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Gray, barren, littered with piles of old sticks, still reeking of rotten fish and decaying fruit at the edges. But it was home—the one we have made together—even as actual trash floated on the river, right where Halsin liked to procure the fish for dinner. Where Minsc and Minthara bickered over Boo, where Jaheira and Karlach told tales by the crackling fire, and Gale’s redolent books—scented with ink and worn paper—filled the night. It was more home than any I had known for as long as I could remember; as much a home as those earlier camps we had made many a tenday ago.
I stared at their face, knowing I should say something—anything to keep the pressure from building and breaking like a dam, ever since they had said those words at their Father’s temple. But what to say besides acknowledging the desperation that bubbled at the surface’s edge much like the piles of garbage met the edge of the building and the Chionthar river?
“Bhaal himself has sentenced you to an eternity of madness, to be consumed by your Urge.”
Images of my time in the kennels came to mind, of Cazador and my siblings, where all hope seemed lost and the image of my unsuspecting saviors showing up in the form of mind flayers—but that all seemed too far away now and the imminent dangers of taking in a mad god so close to home. Much too close. And it was coming closer still.
“You'll never be free, will you? He is going to take over...”
My hand reached in the pale glow of radiant sunlight toward their face. Their beautiful, unmarred face, still resembling the person who helped me—helped me become who I am and who I was meant to be all along. And all I could think about was the fact that there was nothing I could do to return that help. I would forever be indebted and forever was much too long when you were a cursed creature of the night. Well, at least I could walk in the daytime for the time being, so I still had that. What did they still have? And for how long? I could so vividly picture them as I was—a rabid creature submerged to their urges—their slayer form as gruesome to others as mine was beautiful yet just as deadly.
“I've had periods where I was so hungry, I was all but robbed of speech and reason. If you become as I fear... feral, scrabbling, all but a carrion-creature... I don't think I'll be able to look at you. It will remind me too much of my worst self.”
I admitted that despite the voice in my mind telling me to stop and grip the dagger already. I had done that already once before. It was so easy to do it all over again. One slash against their throat, watch the life drain from their eyes. Maybe they wouldn’t even resist this time. But their Father wouldn’t like that very much; of that I was certain, at least.
They were quiet—too quiet; as dangerously quiet as those nights when their Father took them over and I believed those to be my final moments with them. I couldn’t deny I understood their reasoning and the appeal of submitting to someone powerful. Perhaps fear. Perhaps submission disguised as quiet power. Or perhaps just foolish. Whatever the reason—
Their still warm hand caressed my cheek and all that I’ve been trying to deny myself came flooding back in. Was this love? Pity? Empathy? Who could say? All I knew was that despite all these dangers, I still gripped the hilt of the dagger I kept close to my hip, my arm tensing all the way to my fingers, which had begun to shake. I could stop them from becoming what they had chosen to become. But they were the one to choose. I never did. But they did. We were not the same despite being perhaps closest to what I was.
I pulled the dagger and held it against the gossamer skin of their throat, pressing hard enough that I could see the blood flowing and hear the steady rhythm of their heart beginning to slow against the metal. The metal, honeysuckle, mesmerizing dark liquid still dripped on the blade; still as mouthwatering as it always had been, if tainted by the malodorous decay of the slayer inside them. They smiled. Smiled as though they knew I couldn’t press any harder. Or perhaps they hoped I would. I would if I could. But I couldn’t.
“If that is to be your fate, I will enjoy our time together while it lasts. But soon enough we'll have to say our goodbyes.”
They nodded once, their lips, still tainted with the gore of their slayer form, the blood of their sibling marring their soft, warm skin pressed against mine, still warming me to my very core. The taste of bloodshed they left in their Father’s house—a violent slaughter that went back to many generations, so deeply ingrained in their body, perhaps even their spirit. Who could say how deep these things went with the gods?
The dagger dropped to the ground with a loud clank, bouncing back from the impact and settling against the edge of my boot. Their fingers brushed against my hair, the fingertips trailing patterns only known by them against my scalp. I closed my eyes, letting them envelop me as I did them in a crushing embrace. Perhaps the last; perhaps penultimate; perhaps the very first in whatever this new thing between us was becoming.
Our tent stood just as it did before we left for Bhaal’s temple, the laundry still fluttering against the wind above us like ripples of water. Our companions’ screams had subsided once we reached camp and they had enough decency to grant us the privacy of our tent.
“The time we have together now is so precious,” I said in a voice that didn’t sound like my own.
“I know.”
We moved as one monster, perfectly in sync. Our bodies collided like waves—crashing, retreating, drawn back again—with words we hadn’t yet spoken and maybe never would. My dead, unbeating heart was silent against the frantic thrashing inside theirs. Perfect opposites, yet somehow the same. I couldn’t imagine a world where I existed and they did not. And how perfect was it, that where my prayers had gone unanswered, theirs—unuttered—were answered in kind?
Still-warm body against icy one, melting with each thrust of desperate hips, breath clashing against a tender face—sweat, blood, and gore thickening the air. I sank my teeth into their still-familiar skin. My hunger, once a ravenous beast, now lay nearly dormant, contrasted disharmoniously with my other needs; my need of them, my need for a future, a need where all the other needs were needless if they were not there to help sate it.
But despite it all, we sated the need of each other for the time being. I wasn’t certain of anything, much less of the time I had left with them, but I wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity, knowing it would be all I would have left after they were gone. Bhaal would take them from me, much like everything I ever cherished had been taken from me and I would need to learn to exist without them. I couldn’t end them. I wished I could. There was nothing I wanted more—nothing I feared more—than to end their suffering myself but it was their choice in the end and who I be if I were to take the choice away of another one, even a monster?
They settled against me in the aftermath—of sweat and blood, of unspoken truths and tangled lies. Our scents mingled where our bodies touched, and the thought struck me, quiet but sudden. I used to think of bergamot and brandy as mine—biting, heady, the kind of scent that left a mark on skin and memory. But if I were to make something for them, something just theirs to mask the rot of their curse—much like mine hid the stench of undeath—it would smell of smoke and fig and lavender. Something wild. Something warm. Something that lingered long after they were gone, like a promise... or a curse. A curse to follow me. Or one I’d chase, if ever I caught its trail again.
“In a thousand years, when I've all but forgotten how to love yet again, you'll flit back into my heart, and I'll weep wondering what happened to my mad love.”
Their tear-bright eyes and mournful smile mirrored my own—an expression I’d recognize without being able to look into a mirror. We kissed once more like it was both the first and the last time; but perhaps we still had a few more and if we did not, I would make sure every kiss we would share since now would be as if it were the last and I’d make them all count.