The Curse of Cal'Riel

Family Reunion

17 Claeg '22

Home, but not really

"I think you're wrong," Charcyrl said easily, gaze fixed on the road ahead.

During our journey back to the Tarville instance of The Lucky Clam, the monk tried to talk me into staying.

"I think you're afraid and you're confused." She peeled a layer off. "Which doesn't make you any different from the rest of us."

The afternoon sun break warmed our trek once we left the forest behind. The road cut through expansive farmlands, golden and lush and ready for harvest. I stealthily glanced at her new exposure, her defined collarbone a now glistening charcoaled lavender. If there was anyone that could convince me to stay, it would be Charcyrl. And it wasn't just because of her fine-ass build. She had a genuine concern that made her impossible to brush off, no matter how made up my mind was.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," I said, catching her eye. "But you're not the one with a god that reps everything you're not."

We were walking side by side, the rest of the party split in front of and behind us. Everyone was in earshot of our conversation, which was fine. I wanted to be an open book for them. It was the least I could do before leaving.

Back at Bud's, I hadn't addressed the elephant in the room, rather waited until morning. I didn't want to make the moment about me and my bullshit when it was Eiris's birthday. Instead I went quiet, retreated into this space to record it all while it was fresh. I paused my scrawling only when Eiris had given the scroll to Erevel instead of using it for herself.

"Your sword is really sick," she'd said to him. "I want you to have the weapon upgrade."

"I can't accept it," Erevel said, humbled. "Please, use it on your bow."

"My hatchday wish," she insisted, "is for you to take this."

He couldn't refuse her. That's why his sword now glowed with a bizarre light, visible even through the cracks in his leather scabbard. I watched it move with the rhythm of Moxie's walking stride. It was strapped to his back while he led us down the road's tedious hours.

"You have no idea which god has chosen me," Charcyrl continued. She wasn't letting up. "Because I don't even know yet. She could be Dola for all I know, the knowledge goddess, and I am," she laughed, "not knowledgeable."

I found it odd that she used Dola as an example. She was the object of my alleged god's affection, according to Tempist. It was an awkward and intriguing parallel for her to make, and it made me wonder, had I made my attraction that obvious? Was she, perhaps, acknowledging that?

"I think you're more knowledgeable than you let on," I suggested.

"Is that so?" she said. "Well, if you think I'm so smart, then maybe you'll take to heart what I'm trying to tell you."

I sighed. "I know what you're saying. But, you don't get it. And there's no way you can get it without being a fire genasi: I hate water. It's built into me to hate water. It hurts like needles when I touch it. It burns like pepper when I drink it. There's no way this god, this Tethys, would have chosen me unless he's some kind of sadist."

"He's not a sadist," Tempist spoke up from behind. She was walking next to Astra who was still being really quiet.

"Thank you for backing me up," I said over my shoulder.

"I'm not backing you up," the kid argued. "Just saying. Tethys is really nice. I think you should give him a chance."

"Are you even listening to me?" I argued back. "How would you like it if, I don't know, the god of animal suffering picked you as his champion?"