Dungeons & Drabbles

Runaway - Seth Kreimer

The sounds of the night, along with his fire, are all he hears as Seth smooths out his bedroll, carefully looking around one last time. He was sure he wouldn't encounter any other enemies or monsters, he'd been in this forest many a times before-- though this was the last time, he knew, he might travel through it for a while.

He was leaving Elturel for good this time, to travel somewhere else. To get away from the memories. To get away from what had happened before.

Seth takes a look at his brass ring, his trinket, and tries to imagine what could have been, before it all burned down.

Yes... he would have been happier, had he not been burned away and reduced to ashes before him. He thanked the gods for his agility, but damned them, damned himself, for not saving him.

Athran Akhtar, his one and only.

Somebody he'd become acquainted with, then came to know, and ultimately, love. He was his own friend Mavis' mentor, and was a storyteller, a bard. He traveled about but settled for a little bit back home in a smaller town near Elturel with his sister, Ana.

Seth lived in the town for a while, a season or two, but falling so, so in love with Athran in those two seasons. His last name meant 'star,' and Seth certainly thought it true. Athran was his North Star, his guiding light on the way to becoming a better person.

Athran taught him how to swordfight-- throwing daggers and shooting arrows wouldn't always work. Athran told him tales collected from travels to Waterdeep, to Neverwinter, and from other places far from Elturel. He taught him customs in different cities, about the cultures and many things he'd seen, and heard, and Seth listened to every word that fell from his lips. Oh, and his words. His voice was a deep baritone, had he not been a storyteller Seth would swear he'd fall to his feet to listen to him sing and preform. Soft and sweet, like honey.

Athran was bronzed in complexion, sunlight falling upon his features and highlighting them in one of the most gorgeous of ways. His hands were calloused, but somehow were soft as well, and warm, quite nice to feel and hold. He always wore a multitude of rings on his hands, some gold, some silver, some studded with gemstones some not. Some brass... His eyes were dark brown, like the wood of the trees in the forest, but he could always see the light in them. His hair, too, was dark, as well as curly-- tied up in a low ponytail that fell over his shoulder and onto his chest. His chest-- firm, warm. Seth loved being held by him, resting his head on him, feeling safe. Happy. Content.

He often fantasized about the silly things-- moving to a home in the country, living together. Waking him with kisses, listening to him talk as he prepared a breakfast... Traveling to towns, buying food at markets, staying at taverns... making love to candlelight--

Oh, Gods, he'd never tell a soul about that last one. He shook the thought out of his head, though the embarrassment showing through his flushed features betrayed so.

He was warm, bright like the sun. Always able to make him smile, always able to make him laugh. Seth loved him so much, possibly even too much. Athran Akhtar, his North Star-- but even stars someday have to die, don't they?

It always came back to him in snatches.

The crumbling of wooden framework, the blazing, towering flames. The fearful screams of everyone in town, the masses of scorched cloaks trying to escape past him. The glints he could see of golden hues in the fire's light, the red and violet skin he could see under shrouds, shadowed by the very flames they'd cast. He cursed himself, cursed his own hand, as he ran, fleeing the scene.

He'd beat himself up terribly the moment he returned, even having a tantrum and destroying anything he possibly could back at his own refuge, and crying.

Crying.

Seth's eyes shot open, remembering he was not surrounded by burning buildings and people, but rather the night. The sway of branches, the creaking of crickets, the crackling of the fire...

He took one last look at his ring before curling up on his bedroll and letting sleep take him, fighting off any other semblance of memories he'd rather forget, running into dreams he'd hoped would treat him much, much better... something in him secretly wishing he could see his star again.