#osh's plot

Ludovick --

Will be absent for a time. Uncertain when I will be back. Leaving word in case you return before I do. Walk in the Light’s blessings, Brother. I pray for your safety.

The note was left pinned to the alchemy table, held in place by a phial too heavy to be overturned by Pam’s nonsense. The home was locked; Kargain was bribed with a heavy bottle of whiskey and an armclasp. There was nothing left to be done but to leave.

If you walk away now, you’ll be safe.

That was what Lilim had said, or something to that effect; in one damned moment, she had made her choice. Ludovick would understand, she felt -- if she’d been able to tell him, anyway. In one damned moment, she’d turned away from a life uncomplicated by Ereleth Tremaine and the pocketwatch and the Light-damned demon. One choice, and she’d cast aside any hope she might have had for normalcy, a life where she might have kept watch over the chickens in Ludovick’s absence, might have searched for some sort of… peace.

She could have had simplicity.

Knowing that Ereleth was still alive, that things were still in motion, she could have walked away and contended only with those dangers she chose for herself, could have dealt with only what any paladin might have felt was their duty. To serve the Light, to act as the Light’s vessel, to join the war or retired to train up new knights for the front, to search for the dead, to light candles for them every night as she prayed.

And yet, she’d followed Lilim, only hesitating for a moment before tossing it all aside. For what?

Like a damned fool, like an idiot, she had bowed her head and stepped forward, because if she didn’t, who would? Lilim was familiar in a way that was entirely too uncomfortable. She recognized the woman’s wariness as a twin of her own, and it struck a discordant note within her, to see that damage done to someone else. Whatever might happen, Lilim would no longer be left to contend with it alone, she decided.

She’d given up, once. She’d failed them all, too many times to count, and she’d given up after a time, unable to move forward.

Years. She’d spent years regretting her failures.

Now, at long last, she had a chance to make it right.

Ludovick would have understood if she’d been able to tell him. But she couldn’t. And he didn’t need to know. It didn’t matter, what anyone else would have thought of it; they were dead or gone, and she was alone, now. It was to her to make the choice, and she’d made it.