Claire heard the knock at the door and rose from reading her book. She turned down the corner of the page, dogearing it without concern and laid it on the table. It didn't shock her that Gilean was her visitor. She had not informed anyone else of her recent home acquisition. The Stones had placed the property up for purchase, though part of the agreement was not to disturb the previous owner's grave in the back garden. Emalia could rest there as long as she needed. Claire had no qualms.
She opened the door, admitting Gilean to the cozy living room. "I wanted to talk to you... about what happened," he began. "You aren't happy with me."
'No. I am not. But that happens in life.'
Well, it means a lot to me that you aren't. I care about your opinion of me.
'I don't have much of an opinion of you, Gilean. I've simply decided I didn't know you very well and so I retract any thought I had of you previously.
It's hard to explain exactly what I felt. But the death pulled to me so heavily.
That frustrated Claire, but she retained her soft voice as she stared at the fireplace. 'If you are attempting to justify what you've done, it will not work. Many in the realms have their lives unjustly taken. Perhaps you'd like to go resurrect all of them as well?'
What if I could? Would that be wrong to do so? Gilean asked.
'I believe you went forward with something that had consequences that you did not even think about, Gilean. Now you have a woman who can't remember anything with a husband who must live with all of that - He can see her, touch her, talk to her, and she doesn't know him. Is that not worse than death? Is that not worse than letting him bury her and live with memories? There are consequences! Would she have been any more dead had you waited to think them through?'
No. I got... caught up, Gilean replied.
'That is what I would consider an understatement.'
She knew Gilean felt bad for what he had done. She could see remorse written on his face. It didn't make her feel superior or pleased - part of her wanted to go to him and offer a hug, but the other part was angry. If he wanted to give an apology, she was not the one to give it to. 'I would suggest,' she said, 'that if you wish to do something, you go ask them. There is nothing here that you can do.'
I will prove myself to you Claire. It's very important to me.
'You've nothing to prove or disprove, Gilean.'
Claire escorted Gilean to the door and closed it slowly behind him. She leaned her head against the door with a sigh. 'Things are as they are and will be as they will,' she repeated. She walked back to the couch and picked up her book once more. She reread the same section over and over again, not seeing the words for seeing the pain etched on Gilean's face at her disapproval.
Shoes
She ate the food and listened to the conversation. She watched the little boy and smiled as politely as she could. She was being compared to some woman that was her but wasn't. Someone else had inhabited this shell before her. She could speak the language, she could understand concepts, she could use a fork and a spoon but in the context of the greater picture, she didn't know this man, this baby, this kitchen, this house, this person. Sanria.
The man - Colin - looked like he was on the verge of tears every time she proclaimed she didn't know or didn't understand or didn't remember. He showed her the other rooms of the house, telling her how much Sanria liked this one or that one, or how much time she spent there. No matter what, though, when she felt like backing away or just going somewhere for a moment to breathe - she was assured that if she only gave it a chance, she'd remember.
Colin showed her to the bedroom, her bedroom supposedly and she stared at the room with a sigh. She didn't know this place, no matter how pretty it was, and didn't feel as though she was supposed to be here. She took the wedding band from her necklace and frowned. When Colin came in to check on her, he slid it back onto her finger. "That's where it belongs," he said with a very slight chuckle. But why? She didn't know this man. She didn't know anyone.
When she sent him off to sleep in the guest room, the man - Colin - looked as if he could cry. He'd been so sick with worry over her (Sanria, she reminded herself) and all he wanted was to be beside her. She hadn't expected him to take her - but he did. She stared at him in shock as he looked down at her, tears in his eyes, begging her - "Please, tell me you remember this. Please."
"I'm... sorry..."
"These were the times were were the closest. I don't want to lose you."
She laid there beside him in the dark, long after he had fallen asleep. She listened to him breathing, listened to the constant yet muffled din of the waterfall outside the balcony, listened to every sound the house made as it cooled off and settled into the darkness of the night. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't be placed in the mold of this woman who, with so many "long sto- ries" couldn't have been happy. To have killed herself... it didn't make sense. What could have possibly happened to make her loathe living so much. Though Colin had said she had been happy most of the time, the shoe just didn't fit. Neither did she.
The man - Colin - looked like he was on the verge of tears every time she proclaimed she didn't know or didn't understand or didn't remember. He showed her the other rooms of the house, telling her how much Sanria liked this one or that one, or how much time she spent there. No matter what, though, when she felt like backing away or just going somewhere for a moment to breathe - she was assured that if she only gave it a chance, she'd remember.
Colin showed her to the bedroom, her bedroom supposedly and she stared at the room with a sigh. She didn't know this place, no matter how pretty it was, and didn't feel as though she was supposed to be here. She took the wedding band from her necklace and frowned. When Colin came in to check on her, he slid it back onto her finger. "That's where it belongs," he said with a very slight chuckle. But why? She didn't know this man. She didn't know anyone.
When she sent him off to sleep in the guest room, the man - Colin - looked as if he could cry. He'd been so sick with worry over her (Sanria, she reminded herself) and all he wanted was to be beside her. She hadn't expected him to take her - but he did. She stared at him in shock as he looked down at her, tears in his eyes, begging her - "Please, tell me you remember this. Please."
"I'm... sorry..."
"These were the times were were the closest. I don't want to lose you."
She laid there beside him in the dark, long after he had fallen asleep. She listened to him breathing, listened to the constant yet muffled din of the waterfall outside the balcony, listened to every sound the house made as it cooled off and settled into the darkness of the night. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't be placed in the mold of this woman who, with so many "long sto- ries" couldn't have been happy. To have killed herself... it didn't make sense. What could have possibly happened to make her loathe living so much. Though Colin had said she had been happy most of the time, the shoe just didn't fit. Neither did she.
Trust
The healer had gone. Gilean, she thought, that's his name. He had said that she should trust this big man. That he was telling her the truth. She did belong here. This was her home. The whole thing seemed absurd. This place was enormous. Who needed a house this big? "This is your home," the big man - Carl... Colin said. "It was your home before we were even married."
"We're married?" The words finally seemed to mean something and she looked at her hand. No ring.
"Yes, I'm your husband." Car... Colin held up his hand revealing a band. "You wear yours on your necklace."
"Why? I mean..." Who wore a wedding ring on their neck and not their finger.
"You recently switched. But that's a long story."
She searched her mind - twinkling lights, black wall - there was nothing. She walked into the library followed not long after by the big - Colin - carrying an small boy with blonde hair. "Sanria... this is our son, Orn."
"No... sorry, I don't have a child that I'm aware of. But he looks like a very nice boy." The small boy - Orn - reached toward her excitedly.
"See... he knows who you are."
"He's a nice boy."
"Yes... he is. You can hold him. Maybe it will help?"
"I think it will let him pull my hair." She chuckled and turned away.
"So have you read all of these?" she asked. She knew what they were, knew what they were for, but why this house had so many was beyond her.
"Oh, no. Not by a long shot. But I think you may have. You loved spending time in here."
"Can't say I remember that... everything seems like a big blank spot. Only thing I remember is waking up just a little bit ago."
"It's ok. It will probably take some time for it to come back. At the worst, you can read all of these books again for the first time."
"If I stay, I guess so."
In the kitchen, her eyes fell on a rose that seemed to shimmer with its own inner brilliance. "Now that is pretty."
"You got that on a recent, but unexpected trip. Another long story, I suppose." There seemed to be a lot of 'long stories.' "I know you're trying to help me, but I really don't remember any of this. You're telling me I'm married with a child and..."
"Yeah. Instant family that you don't remember."
"Is he our only one?"
"Yes. Well... We lost two before they were born. That would be one of the more fortunate things to not remember. The last loss was very recent... and it's been difficult."
"Was that why they found me dead?"
"I don't know for certain... We also lost a close friend. Maybe it was just all too much."
"Maybe so."
"Tell you what. Let me make us something to eat. I've never been brought back from the dead, but it sounds like you could use some sustenance."
"We're married?" The words finally seemed to mean something and she looked at her hand. No ring.
"Yes, I'm your husband." Car... Colin held up his hand revealing a band. "You wear yours on your necklace."
"Why? I mean..." Who wore a wedding ring on their neck and not their finger.
"You recently switched. But that's a long story."
She searched her mind - twinkling lights, black wall - there was nothing. She walked into the library followed not long after by the big - Colin - carrying an small boy with blonde hair. "Sanria... this is our son, Orn."
"No... sorry, I don't have a child that I'm aware of. But he looks like a very nice boy." The small boy - Orn - reached toward her excitedly.
"See... he knows who you are."
"He's a nice boy."
"Yes... he is. You can hold him. Maybe it will help?"
"I think it will let him pull my hair." She chuckled and turned away.
"So have you read all of these?" she asked. She knew what they were, knew what they were for, but why this house had so many was beyond her.
"Oh, no. Not by a long shot. But I think you may have. You loved spending time in here."
"Can't say I remember that... everything seems like a big blank spot. Only thing I remember is waking up just a little bit ago."
"It's ok. It will probably take some time for it to come back. At the worst, you can read all of these books again for the first time."
"If I stay, I guess so."
In the kitchen, her eyes fell on a rose that seemed to shimmer with its own inner brilliance. "Now that is pretty."
"You got that on a recent, but unexpected trip. Another long story, I suppose." There seemed to be a lot of 'long stories.' "I know you're trying to help me, but I really don't remember any of this. You're telling me I'm married with a child and..."
"Yeah. Instant family that you don't remember."
"Is he our only one?"
"Yes. Well... We lost two before they were born. That would be one of the more fortunate things to not remember. The last loss was very recent... and it's been difficult."
"Was that why they found me dead?"
"I don't know for certain... We also lost a close friend. Maybe it was just all too much."
"Maybe so."
"Tell you what. Let me make us something to eat. I've never been brought back from the dead, but it sounds like you could use some sustenance."
Lights
It was cold. Very cold. The kind of cold that seeps down through your skin, chilling muscles to the point they ache when asked to move, chilling sinew and tendon to the point the creak when moved, chilling down to the very surface of the bone and into the marrow. The warmth that flooded through her was like a fire, still, she couldn't feel it just yet. By the time her heart began to beat once more, moving sluggish blood into circulation, she was staring up at a myriad of twinkling lights. They were soothing.
She heard voices but her mind couldn't quite grasp what they were saying - the meanings just weren't there yet. The lights were so soothing. A large man came into view, he was stroking her hair. "Oh Sanria, what happened?" Who in the heck was this? "You're ok now. Everything is ok. Why Sanria... why did you do it?" The man looked like he was about to cry. Why?
"What are you talking about?"
The man's face was confused - that much she knew but she wasn't sure why.
"I'm sorry... who are you?"
"I'm Colin. Your husband."
The words didn't quite register or make sense. She tried to stand up but her legs were simply not strong enough to support her weight. She had to sit back down. The big man was helping her. "You said your name was Carlin?"
"Colin. It's me, Colin."
She searched her memory... it was a big blank. Nothing there but twinkling lights from moments before. Something had to be there, but all that greeted her was a solid black wall of emptiness. "I'm sorry, I don't know a Colin."
"You've been through an ordeal. You just can't remember right now. But it's ok. I'll take care of you. You're among friends."
Friends... she looked around. The big man, the woman laying on the floor with long silver hair, a man with silvery hair... Something didn't quite feel right. She didn't know these people, she didn't know herself. "I don't know who all of you are, but I don't think I'm in the right place."
"No, you are. This is your home."
It didn't feel like home. None of this was right, but there was nothing to fall back on. The black wall in her mind was solid, impenetrable, and gave her nothing. The healer had done this to her, but what? Brought her back to life. The questions were mounting, the feeling of dread growing, "I think I should probably go... Carlin, can you help me to town?"
"No, no. This is your home. Sanria, your son, Orn, is inside. Do you remember Orn?"
"I don't have a son, Carlin."
"Colin, dear. Colin."
She heard voices but her mind couldn't quite grasp what they were saying - the meanings just weren't there yet. The lights were so soothing. A large man came into view, he was stroking her hair. "Oh Sanria, what happened?" Who in the heck was this? "You're ok now. Everything is ok. Why Sanria... why did you do it?" The man looked like he was about to cry. Why?
"What are you talking about?"
The man's face was confused - that much she knew but she wasn't sure why.
"I'm sorry... who are you?"
"I'm Colin. Your husband."
The words didn't quite register or make sense. She tried to stand up but her legs were simply not strong enough to support her weight. She had to sit back down. The big man was helping her. "You said your name was Carlin?"
"Colin. It's me, Colin."
She searched her memory... it was a big blank. Nothing there but twinkling lights from moments before. Something had to be there, but all that greeted her was a solid black wall of emptiness. "I'm sorry, I don't know a Colin."
"You've been through an ordeal. You just can't remember right now. But it's ok. I'll take care of you. You're among friends."
Friends... she looked around. The big man, the woman laying on the floor with long silver hair, a man with silvery hair... Something didn't quite feel right. She didn't know these people, she didn't know herself. "I don't know who all of you are, but I don't think I'm in the right place."
"No, you are. This is your home."
It didn't feel like home. None of this was right, but there was nothing to fall back on. The black wall in her mind was solid, impenetrable, and gave her nothing. The healer had done this to her, but what? Brought her back to life. The questions were mounting, the feeling of dread growing, "I think I should probably go... Carlin, can you help me to town?"
"No, no. This is your home. Sanria, your son, Orn, is inside. Do you remember Orn?"
"I don't have a son, Carlin."
"Colin, dear. Colin."
White Wolf of Living
Kaliadra didn't know what had happened until she woke up. Fear flooded her elvish senses and she jumped to her feet before collapsing back to the ground. She recognized where she was as Sanria's cavern. She knew Colin, she recognized the purple esper priest and the other with silver hair as the two that came into the realms after Sanria. They spoke and it slowly came to Kaliadra that Gilean had brought them back to life after Sanria had killed herself - and her.
From the conversation it was clear that Sanria had lost her memory, something Kaliadra found as a bit of a blessing. "Throm is dead, isn't he?" she finally asked.
"Yes... how did you...?"
"I could feel it... I could see in her mind at the very end."
Though she couldn't feel any pain from Sanria any longer, Kaliadra felt her own sense of loss. She was still connected, but worlds apart. It was a feeling she didn't want to think about. She turned to Gilean and leveled her gaze. "You are fortunate she remembers nothing... because if she recalled the torment she was going through, she'd probably want to kill you for bringing her back."
Once more, Kaliadra resigned herself to a fate reserved for her people when they had done inconceivable wrong. She shimmered once more into the form of a wolf. Within days, she would begin to forget. Within a month - she'd cease thinking like an elf. Blissful peace in an animal- like existence. "It all felt so wrong...' Gilean said. "I didn't realize that part of that was you."
Kaliadra looked back at the healer, understanding his words and taking them to mean she was an unexpected burden. It struck her deeply, and with a final sigh, she limped on all fours out of the cavern and into the forests beyond.
From the conversation it was clear that Sanria had lost her memory, something Kaliadra found as a bit of a blessing. "Throm is dead, isn't he?" she finally asked.
"Yes... how did you...?"
"I could feel it... I could see in her mind at the very end."
Though she couldn't feel any pain from Sanria any longer, Kaliadra felt her own sense of loss. She was still connected, but worlds apart. It was a feeling she didn't want to think about. She turned to Gilean and leveled her gaze. "You are fortunate she remembers nothing... because if she recalled the torment she was going through, she'd probably want to kill you for bringing her back."
Once more, Kaliadra resigned herself to a fate reserved for her people when they had done inconceivable wrong. She shimmered once more into the form of a wolf. Within days, she would begin to forget. Within a month - she'd cease thinking like an elf. Blissful peace in an animal- like existence. "It all felt so wrong...' Gilean said. "I didn't realize that part of that was you."
Kaliadra looked back at the healer, understanding his words and taking them to mean she was an unexpected burden. It struck her deeply, and with a final sigh, she limped on all fours out of the cavern and into the forests beyond.
Learning Curve
Claire wasn't sure how she could have been so wrong about someone. Just the day before, Gilean had invited her out to lunch and they had a good conversation about Psycho, about their planar travel, about Gilean himself. But now she was faced with a different side of Gilean.
She had been contacted by Gilean to help locate Sanria. Apparently the woman had been missing, and far be it from Claire to avoid lending a hand when it was needed. They, she and Gilean together, had located Sanria. Rather, her body. The woman had stabbed herself and her corpse lay frozen in the snow.
Claire couldn't believe it when Gilean began proclaiming how wrong it was. Had he no sense of history? And when he said the gods shouldn't have allowed it to happen - well what about all the atrocities acted out on those who wanted to live? This woman had taken her life, and while Claire believed there were always better ways, many people were slain, slaughtered, brutalized every day across the world of Toril.
Against her desires, not even listening to her, Gilean resurrected not only Sanria, but the elven woman they had met on their trip, Kaliadra. Apparently they had both killed themselves. And for his not listening - Sanria had absolutely no memory.
Claire shook her head in frustration. They should have brought the woman home and let her husband bury her and grieve. That was much more natural than what they - he - had done. As far as she was concerned, Gilean had over- stepped his bounds. He had played at being a God without considering what the possible outcomes were. He had brought back a woman that obviously wanted to be dead when so many who didn't want to be dead remained so. Makou lights lit the streets, did he not think about what made that substance? Did he not think about bringing back those espers?
Claire hung her head and for the first time in nearly a hundred years, warm tears found their way down her slender nose and fell to the floor.
She had been contacted by Gilean to help locate Sanria. Apparently the woman had been missing, and far be it from Claire to avoid lending a hand when it was needed. They, she and Gilean together, had located Sanria. Rather, her body. The woman had stabbed herself and her corpse lay frozen in the snow.
Claire couldn't believe it when Gilean began proclaiming how wrong it was. Had he no sense of history? And when he said the gods shouldn't have allowed it to happen - well what about all the atrocities acted out on those who wanted to live? This woman had taken her life, and while Claire believed there were always better ways, many people were slain, slaughtered, brutalized every day across the world of Toril.
Against her desires, not even listening to her, Gilean resurrected not only Sanria, but the elven woman they had met on their trip, Kaliadra. Apparently they had both killed themselves. And for his not listening - Sanria had absolutely no memory.
Claire shook her head in frustration. They should have brought the woman home and let her husband bury her and grieve. That was much more natural than what they - he - had done. As far as she was concerned, Gilean had over- stepped his bounds. He had played at being a God without considering what the possible outcomes were. He had brought back a woman that obviously wanted to be dead when so many who didn't want to be dead remained so. Makou lights lit the streets, did he not think about what made that substance? Did he not think about bringing back those espers?
Claire hung her head and for the first time in nearly a hundred years, warm tears found their way down her slender nose and fell to the floor.
A Life for a Life
*A white wolf the size of a small pony stalks the forests of Myth Drannor. She pauses, locked on the scent of a small rodent. Her ears prick with the sound of tiny feet in the underbrush. She lowers her body in a crouch, anticipating with a drooling mouth the kill she will savor.
She lays her ears flat, the rodent is close. She cannot contain the saliva that comes flowing into her mouth. In silence she licks her jowls and read- ies to pounce. With a jolt, a pair of green eyes flash into her mind. She shakes her head, as if the image is a mere sneeze she can cast away. It is not.
She sees herself on a beach and hears the laughter. She smells the scents of herbs and the green eyes that smile with warmth. She shakes her head as the taste of tea floods over her tongue. Barely, the wolf has enough time to remember the face - Throm, and understand where the memory is heading. And why.
Crystal blue eyes widen in horror as the piercing pain of blade to heart is felt in her chest. It knocks her onto her side and she releases a deep howl that drifts into a whine. She tries to draw in a breath, but her sides feel as though they are on fire. She shudders, her limbs twitching. She begins choking. She cannot pull in the air - she cannot pull in air - she cannot -
Kaliadra twitches on the ground, an elven woman. Her eyes flare brightly for a moment, then slowly dim.*
She lays her ears flat, the rodent is close. She cannot contain the saliva that comes flowing into her mouth. In silence she licks her jowls and read- ies to pounce. With a jolt, a pair of green eyes flash into her mind. She shakes her head, as if the image is a mere sneeze she can cast away. It is not.
She sees herself on a beach and hears the laughter. She smells the scents of herbs and the green eyes that smile with warmth. She shakes her head as the taste of tea floods over her tongue. Barely, the wolf has enough time to remember the face - Throm, and understand where the memory is heading. And why.
Crystal blue eyes widen in horror as the piercing pain of blade to heart is felt in her chest. It knocks her onto her side and she releases a deep howl that drifts into a whine. She tries to draw in a breath, but her sides feel as though they are on fire. She shudders, her limbs twitching. She begins choking. She cannot pull in the air - she cannot pull in air - she cannot -
Kaliadra twitches on the ground, an elven woman. Her eyes flare brightly for a moment, then slowly dim.*
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