At the sight of the pitying look on the priest's face, she sobbed. "I don't even know where to begin... what to take... what she wore or used or..."
"You just take what feels right to you. You don't have to try to be someone else... you are still the same person."
"I don't need any of this..." she said, her irritation eclipsing her better judgment. "I can just go."
"No, please," Colin said. "Maybe you just need to get out for a while. The woods here are beautiful. Maybe we can just get out and take a walk."
Gilean stayed behind with Orn as she followed Colin out to the stream beside the cavern. It was nice to walk behind him, no eyes upon her expectantly, no questions directed toward her. The musky scent of fallen pine needles forced her to relax and the forest seemed to speak to her in the tones of the babble of water over stone. Her mood lifted considerably and a clarity came into her mind. Nature somehow made everything alright.
They finally sat by the stream and simply chatted. Colin told her about her past husbands, her children, his indiscretion with Arlenia, her planar travels, her relationship with Throm, and even about her granddaughter. The entirety of the life of Sanria sounded foolish - a trial that struck her as absurdly hilarious. Far from being burdened, the twisted spiral forced from her a peal of laughter that had her rolling about on the forest floor holding her sides. "You aren't so bad when you're not taking blame for everything under the sun," she finally managed to chuckle out.
"Thank you for not running away screaming."
"Well, according to that Gilemen fellow, I did do that. Killed myself, too."
She sat up, the debris of the forest clinging to her wavy hair. She didn't notice until she looked up and saw Colin gazing on her. "And that's you... right there," he said with a whisper. They left the side of the stream and went back inside. She would stay at the cavern because for whatever reason, hearing of her past life somehow set her at ease. She may not be able to remember it, but at least she knew about it. The darkness finally didn't seem so formidable.
Packing
She woke up before Colin and walked out onto the balcony. She watched the sun crest over the land to the east, its fingers stretching over the forest as though it were clawing to rise from the ground. She listened as the silence of night vanished beneath the chattering and chirping of the squirrels and birds. She could barely make out some buildings to the west - a city perhaps - but she didn't know. She didn't know anything.
"Oh, there you are," Colin said. "Good morning."
"Good morning..." she managed.
"Um... last night..."
"I think that it was a sign. I should not be here."
"But you do... I know you can't remember. But this is where you belong."
"No. Sanria belongs here. I don't know who I am, but I'm not Sanria."
Colin seemed desperate, but no matter what he said, she didn't listen. She simply couldn't stay and be expected to behave like this woman who was nowhere to be found. It frustrated her just how much the man wanted to accept blame - as though her choice to go away was his fault. He couldn't understand what it was like to come "home" to a place that remembered you as someone else - a someone you never had met and never knew.
She walked into the bedroom, finally gaining agreement that she would stay in the nearby town, and readied to pack. It hit her suddenly and with brutally crushing swiftness that she had no idea what to take. She had no idea where anything was. She was utterly helpless in this life.
Colin offered her a bag and she began throwing things in. Brushes, combs, robes, sashes, bottles of this or that - she had no idea what went into the bag and didn't stop until she heard Gilean's voice at the bedroom door. "Are... you going somewhere?"
"Oh, there you are," Colin said. "Good morning."
"Good morning..." she managed.
"Um... last night..."
"I think that it was a sign. I should not be here."
"But you do... I know you can't remember. But this is where you belong."
"No. Sanria belongs here. I don't know who I am, but I'm not Sanria."
Colin seemed desperate, but no matter what he said, she didn't listen. She simply couldn't stay and be expected to behave like this woman who was nowhere to be found. It frustrated her just how much the man wanted to accept blame - as though her choice to go away was his fault. He couldn't understand what it was like to come "home" to a place that remembered you as someone else - a someone you never had met and never knew.
She walked into the bedroom, finally gaining agreement that she would stay in the nearby town, and readied to pack. It hit her suddenly and with brutally crushing swiftness that she had no idea what to take. She had no idea where anything was. She was utterly helpless in this life.
Colin offered her a bag and she began throwing things in. Brushes, combs, robes, sashes, bottles of this or that - she had no idea what went into the bag and didn't stop until she heard Gilean's voice at the bedroom door. "Are... you going somewhere?"
White Wolf Visited
I can't say what possessed the priest to visit me other than his own guilt. I believe there is a lot of that surrounding this whole wretched situation. In any case, the Lathanderite tracked me to my cave and had the audacity to offer me better accommodations. Hah.
He seemed desperate to help in any case. I told him the story of Sanria and why my situation is a welcome one. To be able to release myself from feeling what Sanria feels, yet still offer her life in repayment for the one I took allows me relief while still upholding the honor of my people and myself.
He tried bringing up Lithanus as if the boy would make me come back from my exile. He didn't seem to understand that Lithanus feels no special emotion for me. In fact, the priest seemed almost shocked to know that I had informed Lithanus of my exile. There is no one out there awaiting my return and in that I feel some measure of comfort. When none rely upon you, mistakes lose their power and become as substantial as a breeze through the forest.
No more thinking. The hunt calls and I'd rather hear my stomach over the issues of the past.
He seemed desperate to help in any case. I told him the story of Sanria and why my situation is a welcome one. To be able to release myself from feeling what Sanria feels, yet still offer her life in repayment for the one I took allows me relief while still upholding the honor of my people and myself.
He tried bringing up Lithanus as if the boy would make me come back from my exile. He didn't seem to understand that Lithanus feels no special emotion for me. In fact, the priest seemed almost shocked to know that I had informed Lithanus of my exile. There is no one out there awaiting my return and in that I feel some measure of comfort. When none rely upon you, mistakes lose their power and become as substantial as a breeze through the forest.
No more thinking. The hunt calls and I'd rather hear my stomach over the issues of the past.
Misplaced Apologies
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.
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."
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