Well, hell, here we are, sitting like a merry group, drinking heartily and regaling each other with humorous anecdotes of deeds long passed. My eyes travel from face to face, I watch them all with a pleased little smile pasted on my lips. And despite I know them, each and every face is so familiar to me, I search throughoutly, looking for something to hold on. There is one person, I do not look upon. I cannot look upon, unless I want to feel desire mixed with guilt and short stabs of pain. Unrequited love. Gods, how I hate the word, unrequited. It is the most disgusting, humiliating word ever existed, filled with such bitterness and despair that even thinking it arouses this terrible taste in my mouth.
I tune back in, I cannot fall out of focus. This night is a night of mirth and I have a face to uphold. Imoen the cheerful. That's me.
'So, tell me, master Sarevok, how does it feel to alive - again?' as he speaks those words, his face is full of badly concealed smugness. Edwin Odesseiron, the greatest wizard yet to become, will never die and never ask to be brought back to life.
'Mind your own issues, enchanter.' Sarevok is huge, every part of him is buldging muscles and hard bones underneath a dark skin. His face is permanently grim. The dim light of the inn's lamps reflects on his bald head.
'Men. Always so eager to compete, either by a weapon or by the size of their organ. Aren't they pathetic?' Viconia's eyes narrow, her smirk is all but slight. I always watch her compelled, for she is a wonder, with fair hair and smoldering dark skin of a drow. She holds herself proud and straight. Her blood red dress underlines the beauty of her form. I smile at her.
'Well, indeed.' I answer with false mirth. I dare not to look on myself, so instead my eyes slides upon Coran, who's handsome face is split by a broad grin.
'And the ladies, so fair but so cruel to judge!' he exclaims 'Laura, aren't we a team so spectacular that one might collapse simply from laughing too much?'
He speaks the forbidden name and my world comes crumbling down. I force myself not to look, but my instincts - oh my masochism, may the gods curse me for weakness! - take hold and so I stare at the miracle I am seeing.
The miracle who also happens to be my sister.
I grew up with her. I always treated her like a sister - a fact I knew not of at this time - and she meant all the world to me. Little did I know, that Gorion's death and then the race against Sarevok would bond us even further and that upon our departure, we would be abducted by thugs hired by a evil mage, which is another factor that led me into falling in love with her!
My heart races, my hands sweat profusely and my brain starts swirling around. The world turns gray and fades away, the only bright form is Her. By gods, how lovely can one be without being struck down by some jealous force?
Her hair is deep red, the color of wine mixes delicately with rich brown, and those crimson curls fall heavily upon her shoulders and below, barely above her shoulder blades, their smoothness causes light to slide and glitter. Her skin is porcelain white, scars which cover her arms are invisible - only sharp light uncovers them. Her eyes are dark green, shaped like almonds and surrounded by the thickest and longest eyelashes I have ever seen, pure charcoal that contrasts with her pearl skin. And her nose, straight and small, her lips, the fullest, reddest lips on Toril, lips that twitch and quiver gently, lips marked with irony that twists their corners (oh she always looks as if she was smirking, maybe she is, nobody knows what is going on in Laura's head), lips made to be claimed and lips that can bring over the edge. She is all iron, tall and slender, agile and deadly, playful and insane, corageous and full of malice, vicious but gentle, loyal but remorseless, graceful but monstrous...
Imoen, snap back. I slap myself mentally over the face. She throws me a look, her eyebrow gently rises (oh those eyebrows, eyebrows sculpted to strike with irony and frown with anger); for an instant, she seems to be worried, and then the moment is gone. Her eyes lock with Coran's.
'I guess many have already perished in our wake.' she says with the smallest of smiles 'I suppose it's all Volo's work.'
'Ah yes, surprising though,' he winks at her, their friendship so obvious and so firm 'I always believed it had to do with Alaundo.'
'Might say so' she laughs 'as for such a pamphlet has never been seen before.'
They all laugh, even Viconia shares their joy.
It had been hard, those previous months brought upon us anguish and exhaustion. We emerged scarred and weary, but finally successful. Now had the days of easy everyday life arrived. So instead of heading for D'Arnise Keep, where Laura was the lady, we ended up in Copper Coronet, every now and then making plans for things to do in a distant future. Today one was of those days, as strange gossips had already begun to spread. Whispered word carried the news of assembling armies and strange omens appearing in remote places - but to be honest, we payed no heed to them, busy with drinking and taking leisure time.
There are six of us at the moment, Laura, yours humble myself, Sarevok, Viconia, Edwin and Coran. More friends were about to arrive any day soon, we were eager to meet them and share tales of adventure and silliness.
'So, did y'all hear of the bleeding virgin?' Coran asks, playing with mug.
'Oh many times, ya know, it happens to every single one every month.' my sister answers casually.
Another outburst of laughter.
'Nay' he says in mock serious tone 'This one apeared on the sky.'
'No, really?' Laura pushes her hair off her face 'That's random. What did she do? Moan and hold her womb?'
'Uh-oh, as for the blood came from her eyes.'
'Disgusting! Wouldn't that be a common plague-to-come apparition? Edwin?'
'Uh! The Red Wizards do not bother with such nonsense as omens!' mage barks sharply and tugs on his robe.
'Pity, it provides so much fun. Remember the cows that developed iron hooves and breathed fire? Oh, now this heat thing made me thirsty.' Laura launches herself upwards, all her movements are extremely fast and heavenly fluid, it's like watching a cat or flames. 'Anyone, anything?'
'It would seem that the ale's ran out.' Sarevok looks into his mug and shakes his head.
'Ah, so that would make a next round?' Laura smiles at him and then, suddenly, all the joy from her face vanishes, her features sharpen. We all turn.
A corpse pale woman clad in black leather hovers towards us.
A vampire.