SPOILERS C3E91
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TURN BACK
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THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF COMFORT!
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Goodnight, Smiley Day
He blinks, and he…. feels the touch of light on his skin.
The warmth of the air around him, he breathes in and he tastes all he has ever wished, oranges and mint and chocolate and water.
Fresh Cut Grass pushes himself to stand and looks around. An idyllic field rolls into the distance, all about him, except for where he currently stands.
A crossroads.
And from it, the paths extend far beyond the horizon, rising into beautiful tresses of the goddess he has only ever seen at a distance.
The Changebringer.
She smiles, and suddenly, she and he are eye to eye, her gentle hand reaching up to caress his cheek.
"I… is this how it always goes?" they ask.
She laughs, gentle yet sad, her eyes surprisingly downcast.
"No… no, it isn't," she states, looking to the sky, and he follows her gaze.
Ruidus bleeds in the sky, scarlet light snapping and biting at the pristine blue, and he can hear… a scream on the wind.
"We live in unfortunate and unusual times." she breathes.
"Yeah… yeah." he agrees, looking up at her after a moment.
"Did I make the right choice?" he asks, clutching for the coin but instead finding her hand.
She gives it a comforting squeeze.
"What do you think?" she asks.
"I…" he pauses.
"Yes." he finally states, and she smiles.
"I don't know what kind of path I'd set them on, but… I'm glad they'll get to keep walking on." he states, "Even if I'm… not there with them."
"Who says you won't be?" the Changebringer asks, gesturing towards the roads winding away from them.
And suddenly he can see his friends.
Ashton, carving a path, grief, and rage shattering stone as his coin, a beacon, clutched tightly in their fist.
Imogen kissing her hand as she lays it on his body, that same hand then tightly grasping her mother's, a road reforged between them, "Thank you, Letters."
Orym, standing firm, bronze armor marked by three blades of grass shimmering defiantly against an oncoming storm, "Together, Grass."
Chetney carving a toy in his likeness to hand to a frightened child, "For a smiley day."
Fearne snatches the coin from Ashton, kissing it and slipping it back, "So we're both with them for tomorrow."
Laudna stands at a crossroads beneath a tree, half livened, half wizened, reaching for the glow even though it burns her hand. There is resolve in her eyes.
Dorian, amidst unfamiliar faces, staring up at the red moon.
"We're fighting for a shiny day."
A confused dwarf looks up at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Something a friend always wanted. A good day." Dorian remarks, tapping the sending stone in his palm.
"I love you, Faithful Caregiver." A soft voice murmurs.
They freeze, turning to see FRIDA standing and looking at him, gently smiling, "I'll see you soon."
"No, you… you take your time," FCG mutters, and to his surprise, tears track down his face.
The Changebringer reaches out and wipes them away before pulling him into a tight embrace.
Huh… so this was a hug.
"Do… do folks always feel most alive at the end?"
"Not always. The end doesn't give the journey meaning; it's the joys you find along the way." The Changebringer returns, squeezing him tighter.
He sees Milo, Dancer, Joe, Deanna and Prism, all trying to make sense of the world and the paths set before them.
"You did good." a gruff voice remarks, the whisper of Eshteross.
"But the journey's just begun." a more jovial voice states, Bertrand.
And there they stand, down the road.
"What… what happens now?" FCG asks, looking to the Changebringer.
"Now, we do what we can from this side." she states, "And see this all to the end of the road."
"Alright… alright." he remarks, smiling as she squeezes his hand once more, "I'm ready."
And he heads on down the road.
Goodbye, Fresh Cut Grass. Your love, your faith, your hope, let it ever be a beacon for those who knew you best.
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Not me thinking about the intimate power of love in this campaign.
Not me thinking about how Imogen’s reaction following the first kiss solidifies that she has likely been pining for Laudna for some time and never thought she’d reciprocate.
Not how these two women fighting being puppets in maniacal mages games look to each other and find stability amongst the ever worsening storm.
Not thinking about Ashton and how he claims he doesn’t give a shit about anything. But he does about them. He *does*. He loves them. Each of them have wormed their way past his worn, barbed exterior and even he is baffled at how much he missed the ones that were gone. One, a thief of many things and a giver of something so hard to steal back, possibly burrowing even deeper than the rest.
Not thinking about the three “unromancable” PCs finding love.
Not thinking about the Murderbot finally finding a true reason to live, and solidifying his faith through another wander lost in the world just like him. That literally took off the mask and showed him the truth lying underneath.
Not thinking about the old wolf who despite how he acts, had it in his heart that he never amounted to much and his future was quickly shortening finding a light, a core light of his life returning to him by the whim of luck and the Gods and seeing him for *all* he is, all he’s been, all he can be and telling him: “I love you.”
Not the hanged woman, the stand-in, the lone witch seeking true connection, finding it in the woman who can see every single part of her, and find none of it wanting. An intimate tether through storm, and death and madness and grief, something to rush back to. A true *home*
And not about our little lone soldier, his love gone, clutching to the memory so tightly it scalds his palm and burns his heart.
And not about how he clutched a certain stone in much the same way.
And not how the Chosen of Death itself returned come hell, high water or screaming torment to save the life of the woman who became his entire world. I don’t think he regrets it.
Love is Transformative. Love Holds Us Together. Love Sets Us Free.
Love is.
So don’t go forgetting it now, ya hear?
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