I do not turn. I simply do not feel like it. Shadowheart will either leave or come closer, regardless of what I prefer. And what I want, right now, is a mystery to me.
I want her to stay a while, and lift the weight of loneliness for a while.
I want her to leave me knee-deep in my misery, because that is all I can do.
When she takes a seat by my side, I expect her to speak, say her piece, whatever that is. Instead, all that's coming from her is silence. Together, we breathe the night air. Seconds, minutes, then silence again.
Somewhere in the flow of time, I stop wondering what she might seek from me. Whatever use I could be.
"You're not here by chance, are you?" Shadowheart finally asks me.
Ever since she saved her parents, she found a sort of inner peace, a sentiment I can perceive in her words even now. A peace, I realize, I am envious of.
"No", I admit in a whisper. It takes me a bit more time to actually give her a full answer. "I was drawn here. Here where I don't lie in death, and yet at the same time I do."
She nods in agreement, and understanding. even "For me, it was more like... Sleeping. Like I've had slept for my whole life. Never knowing who I was, never being able to understand it. I think... I was lying to myself, telling myself that I was Shar's most
faithful cleric, and that was enough. That was fine."
Shadowheart ceases speaking, and I don't answer.
To my surprise, I'm not sure what I should say. Has her gentleness always been hidden under the abrasive surface she used to show to the world?
Lies. To everyone and myself.
That, I can understand. I finally see how I breathed, dressed, and was made of lies.
"You know, Astarion. You can't lay back in that earth. It's far too late for that", she tells me. And since the start of our conversation, she turns to look at me. "You might have if you had completed the ritual. Now, you don't get that luxury.
You can't remain here, mourning yourself."
"Says who?" I ask, dryly. "I have no master now."
"You don't" she agrees, her voice getting softer. "But she might, without you." Her hands, cupped on one knee, are now trembling. She's afraid. I know fear. "Or she might not. But I don't think you want to take such a risk."
Shadowheart's words hit me like a running horse. Frozen as I am, part of me wants to go straight to camp and mend what was broken. An equally strong me, still, is paralyzed at the mere thought. Unworthy. Undeserving. Useless.
"I-It's not up to me", I manage to blurt out, somehow.
"Why?" she asks me, quietly.
For that, I have no answer I wish to voice. No answer that would be enough.
"I'm not strong", I finally say, fully knowing that I am using the wrong words.
Shadowheart's face is an unreadable mask. "You've been strong enough to leave us when Kelsya denied you her help."
Her expression might be unreadable, but her tone is not. There's something in it. An accusation. A sly irony, even.
"That was not strength!" I say, unable to prevent himself from talking. How dare she to make fun of me, joke on his weakness, make me so desperate?
Just as well as he ends his sentence, her expression softens. "So you do have it in you. And you don't feed yourself lies."
She holds her hand up. "I don't need your answer now. She does need your presence though. Are you strong enough for that?"
Before I even realize it, I find myself shaking my head. "You're mistaken. I messed up. I'm no use now. You do that. You help her."
"Are you not even going to ask why, or what happened?"
"I won't", I say.
As I speak the same words she did in front of a condemned Cazador, it becomes as clear as day. Kelsya wasn't blinking because she was holding back her tears and trying to keep her resolve, even as I was pleading.
Her voice was sweet and gentle, because she knew I was suffering. She was in disbelief, because she didn't expect me to leave her. Her eyes were not shining with a victorious gleam, she was on the verge of tears.
"Fine" Shadowheart says, her gentle voice gone in favor of her cold, steely one. "Then I'll tell you anyway, feel free to stare into the void as I do. Your absence is breaking her. Your cruel farewell cut deep. She has stopped talking altogether, and she only found her voice again when she butchered... some weird, small creature. We're not letting the damn Bhaal claim her, and to do that I'm afraid we need your help. So, like it or not, you're coming with me."
Somehow, the cleric's tale breaks through my thoughts. I find myself listening in an astonished silence. And as I speak, I give voice to my true feelings.
"I never knew I mattered so much to her", I whisper.
"You're the only one then" she replies. "Are you coming back or not?"