[13] Tale of Neshka: The Days Between

This is the backstory of my tabletop RPG character. In it, Neshka recounts her tragic past in the world of Pathfinder. Part 13: The Days Between [Intro – spoken, warm and amused] [Gentle lute, soft birdsong] People remember the big adventures. The battles. The treasures. The narrow escapes. Merisiel and I had plenty of those. But when I think about our years together… [Small pause.] I remember a lake. And a very dramatic case of sniffles. [Quiet chuckle.] Among other things. [ively medieval folk-rock, lute, fiddle and light hand percussion] [Verse 1 – bright and playful] We found a lake between the mountains, where a waterfall met the shore. The water cold enough to kill a troll, the sunlight made us stay for more. We meant to stay a single night. We stayed for weeks instead. We swam until our fingers wrinkled, lay in the sun until we burned, and argued over absolutely nothing while the seasons slowly turned. She tried to teach me how to dive. I nearly drowned. She swallowed water laughing. I had to pull her round. [Spoken, dry.] An excellent use of our time. [Chorus – carefree] Oh, the days between the grand affairs, the muddy boots and tangled hair, the sun that warmed the stones we knew, the thousand things we didn't do. No prophecy, no fate to fight, just staying up too late at night. We never knew how good it felt to live a while without a quest. [Verse 2 – mischievous] Then Merisiel caught a little cold. A tragedy beyond compare. Three blankets deep, she groaned, "I'm near my end! I cannot bear!" "My throat! My head! My aching bones! Neshka, I can feel the end!" I checked her pulse and felt her forehead. Then took her hand in mine. [Spoken, trembling with false emotion.] Oh, Merisiel… I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do. You've been so brave. [She forces out a few tears and gives a miserable little sob.] I only wish we had more time. [Pause.] You may not survive the week. [Long pause.] She stared at me. Utterly speechless. For one glorious moment, I saw that she actually believed me. Then I caught her trembling lips— and lost all control. I dissolved into helpless giggles, toppled sideways off the bed, and landed on the floor. Merisiel just stared at me. [Spoken, breathless.] Worth it. [Music bounces back – lively fiddle and lute] I knew the herbs, the signs, the cure. She needed rest and something warm. She glared at me beneath her blankets, then asked me not to leave her alone. [Chorus – playful] Oh, the days between the grand affairs, the sniffles and the wounded stares, the soup she claimed would end her life, the threats to find herself a wife. I sat beside her till she slept, then stole the blanket she had kept. She woke and called me heartless. I called that progress. [Instrumental break – fiddle and lute] [Verse 3 – warm, everyday moments] We spent our mornings in the markets, our evenings sheltering from rain. She bought things she didn't need, then tried to sell them back again. We learned which inns had decent beds, which roads were best avoided, which tavern owners knew her face and which ones she'd annoyed. She mended holes in my old cloak, I fixed the straps upon her gear. She stole the last bite from my plate. I made her deeply regret it. [Spoken, matter-of-fact.] I can be very petty. She called it one of my finer qualities. [Music stops – brief silence] [Sudden shift to slow, melancholic cello and soft piano] [Verse 4 – quiet and fragile] There was one day every year when I tried to disappear. The date never changed. Neither did the weight it carried. I'd find somewhere quiet and let the memories come. Gukdalma. My clan. The faces I could never bring back. [Pause.] That year, I left as usual. I thought I was alone. I sat beside the road, the little wooden wolf clenched in my hand. I don't remember how long I'd been crying. Then I heard footsteps. Merisiel found me there, my face buried in my hands. I tried to wipe the tears away, mumbled that I was fine. She didn't question me. She sat down by my side. [Soft cello interlude] Then she laid her hand over mine, over the little wolf I held. No questions. No promises. No words to make it right. After a while, I leaned against her. She put an arm around my shoulders. We stayed there together until the fading light grew cold. She never asked me to explain. I never had to pretend. [Pause.] Sometimes, that is what love looks like. Not the kind people write songs about. Just knowing when to sit down… …and when to stay. [Final Chorus – gentle, warm and hopeful] [Soft cello and piano, delicate lute joining gradually] Oh, the days between the grand affairs, the quiet comfort of someone there, the hand that reaches, asks for none, the shade we share beneath the sun. No need for answers, words or plans. Just sitting close, just holding hands. We never knew how much we'd keep from all those days that seemed so small. [Outro – spoken, intimate] [Gentle lute and cello] We travelled for years, Merisiel and I. There were grand adventures, certainly. But those aren't the moments I remember most.