D&D Drabbles

Lune: Death

 Lune wasn't afraid of death.

It was nothing to fear as many did. Death was inevitable, even the almighty gods were capable of dying. Each creature was capable of death. It was just a part of the natural cycle that kept the world in balance.

It wasn't that Lune enjoyed death. In fact death had taken from the eladrin time and time again. Lune grew up knowing death, the cold touch of it caressing against flushed cheeks.

They had been there for final breaths, for the aftermath, for the grief. Lune understood grief far too well. It was like a permanent echo within their life. Once it faded to a dull throb it would come back like an icy dagger plunging into their very being. Their very soul.

And so Lune vehemently protested against death time and time again. The smooth cut of diamonds dissolving into powder to sink into blood. The first successful time that death had been squandered by Lune, was bringing back Thia's daughter. Seeing the woman's pained look at her dead daughter and seeing Lune's own grief reflected back to her was all they needed to start the spell.

To the people that Lune cared about they would defy the natural order of things. To keep them safe where Lune had failed in times before. At first it was simply draining their own life force to keep others from succumbing from their wounds. That pain was easy for Lune to deal with. It was pain that Lune controlled.

However death seemed to hover around Lune's new companions, their new friends. First Naoise fell in battle, her feathers as scorched as the earth around her. Lune could remember their tears coursing down as they pleaded to the gods for Naoise to return. Thus, she did.

Ricochet and Milan then fell, the panic of not knowing if there would be enough resources to bring them back. Yet for the third and fourth time, Lune was able to bring them back. Each time full of unshed tears and attempting to hide the sheer fear from the rest of the group. Worried that if they let themselves slip then the others would also fall to panic.

Even if things got bad there was that failsafe of having another healer to provide for the group. Up until there wasn't. When Milan left everything seemingly fell onto Lune's shoulders. At least that's what it felt like to them.

So then the day came. The day where they failed, and the once dull throb of grief became a searing cold reality. Tolbert's blood stained Lune's hands as ugly sobs ripped at their throat. They couldn't even face the others, couldn't bear to see disappointment or anger. Any semblance of a togetherness they displayed vanished. All they wanted was to shrivel up and cry.

As their feet lead them through the city thoughts consumed Lune as they were on the precipice of falling into the cold frozen void once more. When reality hit them that they had to be the sole reason to keep people alive.

Lune had let people into their heart once more, and in a way that was more terrifying than any battle they would face. Now they were scared of losing people. Even more scared that they would fail in bringing them back from the brink. So the cold reality washed over them.

Lune was afraid of death.