A Budding Romance – Velania – 12/04/2022

Continues a week after Turning of the Stew

With eternal thanks to Riah and andycd for running my hook so brilliantly

Thanks also to Riah and Beets The Beetle (Feenix) for the RP parts I’ve incorporated

[Content Note: trauma, death, grief, mourning]



For love. For friendship. For the kindness of strangers …

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed to walk from Fort Ettin to Daring Heights. I had to see Coll. Had to.

I had no appetite, no voice. I felt numb. My ears pounded. I put one foot in front of the other, and tried again, and again. That is all I could do. I kept walking.

Somewhere on the way, my hunger got to me. My head span. I felt dull. I sat down beside the road. I don’t know how long I was there.

I felt an arm helping me up. A voice asking questions. I felt myself breathing.

I was sitting in a cart beside an elderly Gnomish man. He smelled of old leather. His clothes were untidy. He held the reins of a donkey. The cart rocked gently.

I was holding an apple. It was old, sharp, tart. I took another bite.

“There you are! Looked like you needed help there, miss.” His eyes crinkled with kindness.

“Thank you. Are you headed to Daring Heights?”

“Is that where you want to be?”

“Yes.”

He glanced ahead. “It looks like Mabel is taking us that way.”

I observed the old Gnome. Scruffy linen repaired with lots of coloured patches. His beard was grey straw. Thick hairs sprouting from his ears. I couldn’t place him. “Do I know you?”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t rightly know who you know, miss.”

I studied him… until I realised I was staring. I watched the donkey flick her ears. “I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s for you to say, I suppose.”

The cart rocked gently.

He crossed his legs next to me on the seat. “You look like you’ve a mind to be speaking about something.”

I frowned and shook my head. “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

“OK,” he said. His head bobbed to the motion of the cart.

I turned the apple in my hand. It was too sharp. I took another bite.

I watched the road.

The cart trundled towards Daring Heights. I screwed my eyes shut and clenched my fists and trembled.

I exhaled raggedly. “I let someone down yesterday.”

“It’s written in your face.” He frowned sympathetically. “Want to tell me?”

I clamped my jaw shut and listened to my breathing. I started sinking into myself again.

The cart rocked.

“If I may, I have a suggestion, miss.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you talk to Mabel? She’s a good listener.”

I hesitated, confused.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the reins at me before I could object.

I took them without thinking. “…OK,” I said.

“She’s a good listener,” he said again.

“OK.”

“Wake me up when we get to Daring Heights.” He hopped to his feet and scrambled back onto the crates. There was a large bundle of bedding on top and he nestled into it, his feet up on a barrel. He closed his eyes contentedly as the motion of the cart gently rocked him.

I looked at the reins in my hand. Looked up at Mabel’s twitching ears. I finished the apple. I started talking to her.


… we tell stories upon stories, that we may know comfort …

The mage Aurelia Archselon had been strict. I was permitted to go out for a picnic with Coll as long as he was under careful supervision. The ancient city of Gadenthor dwelling within his head was a magical and metaphysical concept that nobody yet understood. But it put him in danger. He heard occasional voices, noises, messages from the city. They unnerved him – and more to the point, they unnerved Aurelia, hence her very strict conditions.

Every time he heard a Gadenthorian voice, he would twitch with distraction and stare into space for a fraction of a second. He hid it well. But every time, it made my stomach flutter with fear. I knew he was scared too, but I made a promise not to make a big thing of it. He wanted to enjoy himself, so I would too. For him.

First of our chaperones was my dulcimer-playing friend Dwirhian, the Elf who had always been a great shoulder to cry on. I had embarrassedly spoken to her about Coll many long months ago, as if I were a teenage convent girl again, swooning over some fresh-faced brewer’s lad in the local village. What a different time. Dwirhian and I were able to find the cerebral but always kind wizard extraordinaire Glint, whom I regretted not speaking more to since we’d met at the whole Jackal incident. We also found a laid-back animal lover, Florian, who ambled out from the stables with bits of straw falling off him. I had not met Florian before but he had an easy-going charm which immediately made me feel less stressed. Coll’s friend Beets, a beetle fairy who was tough but big-hearted, and doing her utmost to rustle Coll into readiness, was the last member of our group.

After a panicked set of preparations, I waited for Coll outside Fort Ettin. When he made his appearance, he floated down from his window to land with a flourish of sparkles. He wore an immaculate black suit, and he looked so dashing and handsome I lost the power of speech for a moment. When I recovered, he offered me his arm and as we walked, our nerves gradually settled.

Evenbloom Hill was everything I had hoped for! The sky was sunny and clear, the trees in full blossom of whites and pinks and purples, the meadows fresh and green with a vibrancy I have only ever dreamed of before. Across the hill grew the celebrated Evenbloom flowers, which had some magic of the Fey realm within them, as this place held a sacred connection between our realm and the Feywild. Coll promised the Evenbloom flowers would bloom at dusk and turn the field into a beautiful glowing carpet of purple. Some of the local pixies waved hellos as they flitted by, on their own playful pursuits.

We set out an afternoon picnic of savoury pies, homemade summer rolls, a selection of cheeses, salads, olives, nuts and fruits, with elderflower wine and delicious vintages from New Hillborrow, and my mini blueberry pies, which I’d decorated with little pastry moons. They were the perfect combination of sweet with a hint of tart, and the fruit burst joyfully on the palate. I owed Maddie O’Sheehan so much gratitude for the recipe. I vowed to find a way to thank her as soon as I could.

As the sun got lower, there was a flourish of activity from the pixies, who announced the arrival of a special visitor from the Court of Harmony. A stunning, opalescent dragon appeared, Qirliria the Bright, on her first ever visit to the Material Plane. Her scales were a symphony of shimmering greens and blues, with a moonstone crest on her forehead. She merrily announced a storytelling competition and invited our group to participate.

I was entranced by her beauty and stared at Coll in amazement. Special guests! And a dragon from the Court! Entertainment I had not expected! Coll was always full of surprises.

He nodded with a smile – it was all part of the plan. He suggested that our chaperones provide the stories, and I readily agreed.

The pixies started the competition with a wonderful tale of bees conquering a dragon, at their own tragic expense. The pixies added magical lights, smoke and sound effects to make it a truly spectacular affair. After this, Florian told a ribald story about Sune, the goddess of beauty, and her conquest of various immortals… including a story I had never heard before about Selûne. Some of my teachers would have raised an eyebrow at the details Florian layered into it, but it was hilarious and I loved it. Beets stood up to tell the tale of how she became Beets the Beetle, enhanced by Glint’s illusory images of beetles fighting fairies, and many other wondrous special effects. It drew from classic tragic storytelling techniques and was well told, although it ended with Beets faltering and walking off-stage in sadness, having evoked something clearly still painful to her. Glint followed, enhancing with magical flames his own extraordinary tale of a young man falling in love with a djinn, thereby saving his town from destruction. These stories were all met with rapturous applause from our companions, the pixies, and Qirliria herself.

Then Coll stood up to tell a story. He smiled at me, reached out, and took me by the hand. My heart was beating as he led me to centre stage to stand by him as he addressed the crowd. He picked up a mug to wipe, which has always been his signature move when he switches into storyteller mode, and it always fills my heart to see him like this. In his element, bringing joy to everyone.

He started telling an irreverent story about High Diviner Rholor, from the Temple of Selûne. As he began talking, he suddenly flinched. A Gadenthorian voice speaking in his mind. He froze on the spot. Hurriedly, I pulled out my Wand of Pyrotechnics and threw bursts of light into the air, filling the awkwardness with a call to rally the crowd. It gave him a moment to gather himself. He shook his head clear, then fondly leaned against me in gratitude, making me shiver with delight. Then he continued…

A shadow passed overhead, with the sound of large wings flapping.

From one moment to the next, Coll was telling a story to the gathered crowd… and then he was gone.


… we vanquish storm upon storm, that we may know peace …

Before we could do more than blink, two wyverns with Githyanki riders had appeared in the sky and dived at Coll. They snatched him up, and we saw them disappearing into the early evening sky. We scrambled to give chase. Qirliria bore Glint and me aloft, while the others flew of their own accord or by the magic of the pixies.

The details of our pursuit and battle are… too awful for me to think about. I spent most of the time overwhelmed by dread, desperate to get Coll back safely. Thank the Goddess the chaperones were such capable individuals, otherwise the Gith might even have escaped with Coll.

But the price we paid –that Coll paid – was terrible.

A furious maelstrom of ice and lightning, of the arcane and the divine, of eagles and vicious sword-fighting, all hundreds of feet in the air. Coll hung from the claws of one of the wyverns, his wrist chained to its foot. We drove the other wyvern away and saw it fall with its Gith riders, likely crashing to the ground. Then Glint transformed Coll into a swallow, which broke him free of his shackle. But as the last wyvern was dying in the sky, it struck him back into his own form. Before we could stop it, they dropped together. Dwirhian scrambled to grab Coll and missed. I reached for his hand. I missed him. He slipped from my grasp. He plummeted to the ground 500 feet below.

The fall was fatal. We dove as quickly as we could to where Coll had landed. He was horrifically broken. I could barely look at his mangled body. I sank to my knees beside him, my heart pounding, my head swimming with grief.

Florian took immediate charge of a spell to bind Coll’s body back together and call his soul to return. I tried to help as best I could, but I was not really there anymore. I felt kind, strong arms pulling me away from the sight of him. Someone was hugging me. Rocking me gently.

Florian finished the incantation. We waited.

Finally, Coll’s chest rose and fell, and he gasped back to consciousness. Weakly, he opened his mouth to speak…

“It has been 3,956 days since our last update. Please contact an administrator.”

His eyes were different. His voice was mechanical.

This was not Coll.


… and by the giving and taking of words are we lost and found …

Florian was as confused as the rest of us by his revivification spell. The City of Gadenthor seemed to have come alive in Coll’s body. But where was Coll?

We were in shock. Glint had the foresight to message Jenna and Aurelia. They told us to get him back to Evenbloom Hill. They were on their way. We were to guard him – and do a better job of it – until they arrived. Jenna would have to manage Fort Ettin for a while, and Aurelia would teleport Coll immediately to a secure location in Daring Heights for further care.

The trauma of dying and being resurrected does not leave the body so soon. Coll lapsed back into unconsciousness, occasionally sighing in an uneasy slumber. We bore him back to Evenbloom Hill. We did our best to make him comfortable. I sat next to him, hugging my knees, unwilling to talk or disturb him. I watched him rest.

We waited for Aurelia to arrive.

Everyone sat despondently. Watching for signs of danger, huddled together for comfort. Florian summoned a red panda called Gigi, then turned into a bear himself and cuddled up to me. Glint summoned two glittering stags, one who shimmered orange, one pale blue. They knelt low and shared their warmth with us.

I pressed in close to Florian and thanked him for his bear boops. He had mournful eyes. I complimented his story about Sune, and conspiratorially whispered that it wasn’t taught in my temple growing up, but I liked to think the parts about Selûne were true too.

He cheered up a little and pressed his wet nose against my cheek.

A little flurry of feathers nestled onto my shoulder and booped against the side of my face. Glint’s owl Strix snuggled against me. I looked up and stroked his soft head, praising him for being such a handsome owl. I smiled at Glint. “Thanks. Thanks for everything today. What are your stags called?”

Glint shrugged. “They’re Sunset Stags. They don’t have names yet. But you can name them if you want.”

I considered for a moment, but the answers came to me naturally. “The bluish one is Sumrak, and the orangey one is Zorya. That means ‘dusk’ and ‘dawn’ when crudely translated from the Celestial. Since they are a reminder that all time moves on, both night and day. They are the protectors and guides when the day moves into the darkest and most sacred part of the night, and then back to day again.”

Glint glowed with pride and delight. He looked overwhelmed at the names, but extremely happy.

“Glint, can you do me one more favour? Send my regards to Root and ask how he is… even though we’ve never met. But I do hope I can meet him soon.”

Glint turned away a moment, then turned back again and said “Done,” with a kind smile.

Waiting for Aurelia was rending my heart. I was grateful for these distractions.

I thanked Beets for her help and said how nice it had been to meet her.

Through her sadness, Beets replied with a brave face of enthusiasm. “Coll was always so warm and welcoming to everyone that came to the Fort. He always made time for you… He helped me with my act, you know? The first time I performed at the Fort.” A small sad smile formed as she watched him resting. “He deserves to have someone as lovely as you.”

I smiled gratefully. “It would be lovely to get together again on a… less complicated day. If you ever want to talk about the story you told, I am happy to listen.”

Beets’ hands fingered nervously at a strip of her battle-worn, tattered dress. She looked away from my eyes. “It’s not something I’ve fully told to anyone here… let alone performed as a play in front of an audience… let alone a buggin’ dragon… It… It was a really bad idea…” She bit her lip.

I sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry to hear about your father. I could feel how much you miss him while you were speaking about it. You were very open and honest, and you were incredibly brave to explore your feelings anyway, whether in front of an audience or not. I think that takes more courage than facing any foe, so please… never regret that you did it.”

I reached for Beets’ hand to give it a squeeze. “Can you do something for me? Tell me a happy memory of him? Just one, no matter how small. I would like to hear one.”

Beets thought for a moment and then replied. “There is one thing… Papa always used to hum a tune… If I was ever sad, he would pick me up in his arms and hum it to me till I often fell asleep. It’s something I always hear when I think about him..”

She began to hum, her voice rough and raw but full of emotion. I held her hand throughout, a light breeze blowing through the evening air, rustling through the glowing Everblooms.

When the melody ended, I tightened my grip on her hand. In the silence afterwards, I sat and listened to the silence, letting the notes fly away on the breeze. I turned to Beets. I did not speak, but looked to the space around her and nodded once, as if to acknowledge her papa. Then I held Beets’ gaze.

I didn’t know how or why, but I felt stronger, brighter.

I felt tears rolling down my face, but my smile was one of gratitude.


Qirliria sat with us to lend her vigilance. Before it was our time to leave, I walked over to speak with her. Despite feeling weighed down by lead, I slipped with ease into a familiar role of formality, in the manner one should always use when addressing a being as magnificent as a dragon. It brought me a strange form of comfort. “It was the greatest honour to meet you, Qirliria the Bright. The gem whose beauty you express so wondrously – the moonstone – has from birth been a blessing for me too, in my own little way.” I indicated my eyes. Even though they were surely bloodshot, my irises are a bright pale green, like certain types of moonstone. A gift from Seyen, the celestial whose ancestry I bear. “Though it pales in every way, compared to your radiance.”

I inhaled to steady myself. “I confess I have never met a dragon before, and I only wish I could have had this privilege on a happier day. Thank you deeply for your help, and for flying me to Coll. He’s very special to me…” I gestured to the others as they curled up together, surrounding one another with love and comfort. “Well, he is much loved by everyone, as you can see. Perhaps when he is better, he can finish his story for you?”

“That would be delightful if he did,” Qirliria said. Although she understood the gravity of the moment, there was a glimmer of youthful excitement in her voice at the prospect of a future night of storytelling and entertainment. She reined it in. “When he is ready though. The story will be all the sweeter when the teller is fully recovered.”

She studied me closely, looking closely at the faint silvery-blue aura I often possess, although it had clearly faded this evening. “Moonstones come in a variety of colours, and though blue is beautiful in its own way, silver is… hmm…” Her eyes shone brighter in thought. “He is a very lucky man to have such a rare and precious companionship as he does with you, Velania.”

I blushed, and for a moment, I felt my face soften as my mind whirled with the giddy excitement of the day. “You are so kind to say so, though I rather think I am the lucky one, Qirliria. Coll did tell me that this was one of the most beautiful places in the land.”

I held up one Evenbloom flower that the pixies had permitted me to pick, and closed my eyes as I inhaled its fragrance. An indescribable blend of honeysuckle, violet and enchantment. It was a bittersweet scent that would forever remind me of this joy and this sadness. I would press it into a book and then sew it into something I could wear. When I was ready.

“I’m sure the Feywild has many even more glorious places, but did you enjoy your visit to our plane?”

“I have, for the most part,” Qirliria answered dreamily. “Though, we are in the Prime Material, right? It does look rather Feywildian…”

Around us, we admired the stunning early evening vista of Evenbloom Hill. From the pixie homes in the trees shone small lights, casting a glow like candlelight. Nearby, the pixie and sprite escort that came with Qirliria were crafting an elaborate painting on the trunk of one of the trees. The paints – where did they get paint? – seemed to shimmer in a holographic sort of way, depicting an iridescent fairytale castle.

Qirliria shook her head a little and laughed at herself. “The Queen was right! Where there are natural portals, it is very hard to tell the difference there and here over yonder and under ponder. And I love it.”

Hearing the laughter of a dragon struck a chord in my heart. How could it not? I followed her gaze to watch the pixies and sprites, marvelling at their artistry. Surely only the gods could paint in nature with such clarity and beauty?

As dusk set in, the first hint of the moon appeared on the horizon. A silver light gently kissed the hilltop. For a time, I gazed at the Fey folk as if in a dream.

I blinked and shook myself awake, then smiled softly at the dragon. “Thank you for lifting my spirits, Qirliria. If I can ever return a kindness to you, it would be my honour. I hope to – someday.”

Aurelia would be here soon. A sudden sense of urgency welled up. There was something I needed to do before Coll was taken from me. Something I should have said. But I could still say it now.

I bowed a farewell to Qirliria and walked back to Coll. I knelt down quietly, then carefully took his hand. I lifted it to my lips, then set it down gently.

He lay still, breathing weakly in a restless sleep.

Then I whispered to him. And closed my eyes.


… for even if our destiny is already writ in the heavens, they will shift and shape forever.

I wiped my eyes. I felt lighter. Still sad, but somehow stronger under the weight of it.

The cart trundled around the last hill and Daring Heights came into view.

I heard the Gnome yawn and stretch. Soon after, he climbed back down and hopped into the seat next to me.

“Thank you for driving me to Daring Heights,” I said.

He squinted, then scratched his head. “It’s you who drove me here, as far as I can see.”

“I have a guardian angel,” I told him. “Seyen. My great-great-grandfather, but he’s ageless. A celestial champion of Selûne. I share his blood. He used to come see me in the form of a beautiful, loincloth-clad angel, on a chariot driven by a winged horse. He spoke to me in my dreams… when he had time for it.”

“OK,” the Gnome said, his expression flat.

“I’ve really needed him recently. But it’s you who’s been there for me today.”

“Well, Mabel has,” he said. “Told you she was a good listener.”

The cart passed through the clamour of the Eastern Sprawl and we reached the Swamp Gate on the east side of Daring Heights. Children, livestock and workers milled by. The bustle of the city flowing around us like water.

“We’re here.”

“That we are,” he said.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Mabel did all the work.”

I smiled. “I’ll thank Mabel then.”

“She’d like that.”

The cart stopped. I stepped down and stroked Mabel’s muzzle. She snorted and shook her fuzzy mane at me appreciatively. I looked up at the Gnome. “I’m so sorry. I should have asked your name.”

“I should have given it. When I had time for it.” He grinned from one side of his mouth and brandished his crooked teeth. He gestured north with a stubby finger. “Go on. Go see your man.” He switched his reins, then turned his cart away. They drove southwest into the Dawnmarket district.

I stood watching the back of his cart until he reached the end of the street, turned the corner, and disappeared from view. I stood a moment more.

Then I turned into the crowd and led myself west, up the Swamp Road into the centre of the city, and headed for the Temple of Selûne.



Continues in Bedside Manners