Noone's favorite person.

Over the following days, I unraveled in small, painful increments.

There was no singular collapse. No dramatic moment where everything broke apart at once. Instead, it happened quietly, piece by piece, until I found myself standing amid the wreckage of a mind in a life I could no longer reliably navigate.

Sleep, when it came at all, was brief and unkind. Most nights I drifted between exhaustion and wakefulness, trapped in that miserable space where the body begs for rest while the mind refuses to grant it. The memories I had unearthed lingered behind my eyes whenever I closed them. Faces, too many of them. Blood. Voices. The realization of who I had been. What I had done. What I was.

Gale scarcely left my side.

Under different circumstances, I would have cherished it entirely. I have loved few things more in my life than waking to find him beside me, a book forgotten in his lap because he had fallen asleep waiting for me to rest. Yet worry changes people, it narrows their world. Every time I looked up, I found his gaze already on me, filled with concern so profound it bordered on fear.

I loved him for it.

Gods help me, I loved him for it.

But eventually even love becomes heavy when it is mixed with helplessness.

I could see him searching for solutions that did not exist. Watching me constantly for signs that I was improving, hoping every morning would be the one where I woke up more myself than the day before.

And each morning, I disappointed him.

Not intentionally, though. Simply by continuing to fall apart.

Alcohol became my most reliable companion during that time. Wine, mead, even whiskey—whatever happened to be within reach. If I drank enough, the edges softened. The memories grew distant. Sleep became possible. On nights when drink failed me, Halsin quietly offered remedies strong enough to force rest upon me.

I took those, too. Not because I wanted to sleep, quite the opposite.

I wanted desperately to remain awake.

Sleep meant dreams.

Dreams meant remembering.

And remembering had become unbearable.

Of course, none of them were fooled.

I noticed the glances. The silent conversations conducted across rooms when they believed I was not paying attention. I noticed Gale's growing concern every time I reached for another bottle. I noticed Halsin gently redirecting conversations whenever the subject wandered too close to my drinking.

Most of all, I noticed the way he occasionally restrained Gale from speaking.

A hand on his arm. A look. The slightest shake of his head.

As though reminding him that some battles could not be won through argument. As though reminding him that pushing too hard would only drive me further away.

I saw all of it. I simply lacked the strength to address it.

Yet for all the misery of that period, for all the sleepless nights and self-inflicted wounds disguised as coping mechanisms, there was another story unfolding beneath it.

Rachel used to tell me that where there is shadow, there is light.

At the time, I often found the sentiment irritating. Years later, I have been forced to admit she was right more often than I cared to acknowledge, because while I was busy losing my mind, something beautiful was happening directly in front of me.

Halsin and Soren were falling in love and neither of them seemed aware of it.

That was the truly remarkable part.

Everyone else noticed.

Everyone.

Gale and Jenn certainly did and even I, in my ruined state, noticed. We were placing wagers by the end of the second week.

Yet the two men involved appeared blissfully oblivious. Or perhaps merely unwilling to acknowledge what was becoming increasingly obvious.

It began with glances, small things, the sort of moments most people overlook: a smile lingering a second too long, eyes seeking one another across crowded rooms, or the unconscious softening of expression that occurs only in the presence of someone deeply cherished.

Soren began finding reasons to accompany Halsin wherever he went. Halsin, despite being a man with more responsibilities than seemed remotely fair, somehow always found time to accompany Soren in return.

When Gale required something from the market, Soren invariably volunteered before anyone else could. Halsin would then discover a sudden and urgent need to visit the market as well.

Entirely coincidental, I am sure.

More than once, I walked into the kitchen only to discover both standing there, engaged in conversation so engrossing they had forgotten whatever task originally brought them there.

The bread remained unbaked, the tea went cold, the vegetables sat untouched and neither seemed to notice, while they simply talked. Sometimes for hours.

Watching them became my favorite pastime, not because it was amusing—though it often was—but because it was normal.

Wonderfully, beautifully normal.

While my world was being torn apart by revelations about murder, blood, destiny, and all the horrors attached to my father's name, two people I cared for were slowly, inevitably finding their way towards one another.

There was something profoundly comforting about that.

Love continued to exist. Life continued to move forward. People still smiled at one another across rooms. They still found excuses to spend time together. Still forgot themselves in conversation. Still fell in love.

And somehow, during one of the darkest periods of my life, that simple truth kept me afloat.

I could not save myself then, I was far too lost for that, but I could watch them.

I could cheer silently from the sidelines. I could delight in every shared smile and stolen glance. And in doing so, I was reminded that despite everything I had remembered about myself, despite every terrible thing lurking in my past, the world remained capable of producing gentle things.

For a little while, watching two people fall in love became the thread that kept me tethered to the person I wanted to be.

At first glance, Nimriel has a very happy-go-lucky personality. And it's generally true to her character. During the events of BG3, she experiences real companionship and positive social interactions for the first time. So, she meets most situations with genuine optimism and warmth.

That said, if her attempts to resolve conflicts peacefully keep failing, she can quickly spiral into despair - or even aggression.

Nim can also be a bit goofy and occasionally misreads social cues, a result of her almost entirely solitary "upbringing."

What brings you character joy?

Being accepted. Nim grew up in near-isolation in the forest of Mir, raised by a human foster father. She never truly belonged anywhere - humans were wary of her, and drow would never take her back.

Thus, the acceptance she finds among the party and allies means everything to her. They see past her being a drow - and that, to her, is everything.

What does your character strongly dislike?

I wouldn't say there's anything that Nimriel strongly dislikes (well, excluding the obvious situations like enemy encounters, being tadpoled, etc.). She's very curious about the world, so seeing things unfold one way or the other genuinely intrigues her.

Is your OC scared of anything?

Of being used and betrayed, which happened to her before, unfortunately (if you know - you know, it's too spoiler-y). And also centipedes. Don't ask x).

What is their alignment?

Chaotic good. She's got a soft heart and strong morals, even if her methods (and bounty hunter past) add some sharp edges.