Disclaimer: I do not own Dice, Camera, Action or Dungeons and Dragons. Takes place after episode 86.
Useless
Paultin wasn't sure how long he played. The healing song had started a bit frantic and unfocused, but as the body of Simon remained a motionless, burnt husk, it grew heavier, more desperate, his fingers turning red and raw as they plucked the strings of his mandolin with increasing force.
No. No, not again. He'll be fine. They'll both be fine. I won't go through this again. Everything's fine.
Barely even paying attention to the melodies he was creating, his eyes remained fixed to the little wooden puppet, silently begging it to show any change, any signs of life. A twitch of a finger, the jingle of a bell, a terrible pun about to spring from the charred remains of his newly acquired mouth - anything. But time seemed to drag on, and still he lay there, black as charcoal without even the weakest spark of life.
No, no, no! This time is going to be different! This time I can help! First I'll save him, and then I'll save her, just like I did last time. I won't let them - I won't let it just end like this. I won't be useless. I won't -
But he was already useless. Mere moments ago he'd stood by and watched, watched as his comrades fought to save each other from the horrid creature. He'd watched as Diath lunged to save Strix, and Strix in turn flew off to save Evelyn. He'd watched as Evelyn was spirited away, further up into the fissure to be ripped apart and tossed aside like a broken, unwanted toy. He'd watched as Strix's fireball came hurtling back toward them, engulfing Simon and leaving him to smolder.
Diath had caught Strix as she tumbled down. Diath had put out the flames on Simon. Diath had yelled at him, panicked, begging him to save Evelyn.
He had done nothing. Frozen in place, watching everything fall to pieces around him faster than his body could react, Paultin had simply stared at the chaos and destruction, his hesitation claiming one person after another.
I'm not useless. I have to help. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. This is my fault. I have to fix this. Please let me fix this. Why can't I just fix this?
" -tin. Paultin! Paultin, please!"
How long had Diath been calling his name? Sore fingers stopped their vigorous movements, and his music died abruptly, soft echoes ringing back at him through the cave like ghostly whispers, mocking his ineffectiveness. His eyes never left the blackened corpse before him.
"We need to get to safety. We can't stay here. The Death Curse is gone - I know you can feel it too. If we can go somewhere and rest, Strix will wake up, and we can work together to finally leave this place. But we can't stay out in the open like this, not in our current condition."
Paultin looked down at his hands. He had been so caught up in his playing, willing his magic to work, that he hadn't noticed the reopened scars of forgotten battles closing again, leaving his skin clear and whole once more. The pain of his recent scrapes and burns, however, remained, seeming to throb with a steady, accusing rhythm of failure and incompetence.
A grunt, a rustle of fabric, and approaching footsteps warned of the rogue's approach, but even as Diath placed Strix on the ground next to him, Paultin refused to face him, returning his gaze instead back to Simon.
"Please, Paultin. I need your help."
He'd stood by and watched his companions die. He'd flown up recklessly when none were left to attack, nearly killing himself and causing even more problems. He'd neglected his son who was at least still in one piece in favor of reflecting upon the loss of Evelyn, clutching her clearly lifeless head in grief and denial. And now he'd wasted his only healing spell on the dead and gone, leaving himself unable to help Strix.
Don't. Don't ask for my help. Everyone around me dies. Trusting me is a mistake. I can't help anyone.
The rush from the sudden battle and its aftermath had ended, leaving him a hollow shell, overwhelmed and crushed by the reality of the situation surrounding him. More time passed in a haze as Diath silently moved around him, gathering up pieces of Evelyn's broken body. Memories of the two he'd come to trust and depend on the most whirled in Paultin's head, weighing down his limbs, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to drown himself in alcohol, numb the pain, but his supply had run out long ago, and so he sat, alone with his condemning thoughts.
After what seemed like an eternity, he felt a hand grip his shoulder.
"We need to get some place safe."
Even with so few of them left, so long as Strix remained unconscious, Paultin had no way to ensure a safe return to the surface. And despite if it had been possible or not, he wasn't sure his arms and legs would function properly anyway. So he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he'd really ever been useful for in the first place. A protective, domed barrier sprung to life around them, shielding them from further harm while trapping them in the depths of the cave, bits of the cruel monster that had tormented them still lying mere feet away.
Diath stayed next to Strix, no further instructions or pleas issuing from his mouth, and a heavy silence hung in the air, suffocating in its persistence. Paultin unsurprisingly found himself unable to sleep, his ears straining, wishing, begging to hear the joy and laughter of the two voices he cherished most, the voices that had brought so much light and purpose into his apathetic world.
He would hear them again. He had to. It didn't matter the cost. If he had to find his way back to Barovia and the Amber Temple, giving his body over to the dark powers that resided there, he would do it or die trying. He was a worthless, selfish drunk, but they - they were important. They were needed. He would not allow his actions to be what took them from this world.
Everyone around me dies. But I won't stop fighting until I bring you back. For Diath. For Strix. I won't let you disappear because of my failures. And if I don't make it, well, that's one less problem for them to deal with.
A/N: This whole arc is going to be the death of me.
As always, critics and grammar police are appreciated!