Once again, Kelsya laid the bow on the violin's strings.

Once again, her ears were beset by a screeching, unpleasant sound.

A couple of her companions turned their heads, and she instinctively lowered hers in shame. A wave of rage roared inside her. It wasn't right. She wished to play her violin, and lose herself in music as she had done so many times.

Music was a lifesaver. A tonic able to alleviate even the most tormented mind, simply by having the listener focus somewhere else for a while and gain the necessary, new perspective to face the problem at hand. Or, on the contrary, delicate enough to help in delving into the issue, thus offering answers and solutions.

Feeling powerless, she stared at the wooden nuances of the instruments. Her violin had never provided her any actual solution to her troubles, but it had indeed given her moments of solace, to her public and by extension to herself.

Now, even the violin had gone silent. Kelsya repressed a sigh. People were difficult, and for the most part a mystery to her. With Scratch and the owlbear she fared better, but still, even they required something of her. Her violin, though, had never betrayed her. She knew how to touch it, how to treat it, how to get her magic from it.

At least she thought she did.

Timidly, Kelsya raised her eyes. In the waning light of the late afternoon, her companions were all busy. Jaheira had gone to the city center to investigate the ritual murders; that meant she was not there to guard her. Or rather, take care of her.

Perhaps the constant scrutiny was blocking her from playing. They meant well, and she could not blame them for being cautious. Still, somehow, their concern only strengthened the bars of the Urge's enclosure.

Perhaps, if she could get away just a little while... play for an unknown crowd...

For the first time since Cazador, a plan started to form in her mind. She could retire inside her tent, feign sleep for some time. The other wouldn't be back until far later. If they thought she was resting, they could not expect her to nab a potion of invisibility and the Mask of the Shapeshifter. They would of course take a look at her tent once in a while, but soon they would also be intent on making dinner.

It was worth a try. Or not? Maybe, if they caught her in the act, they would assume she was off to... Still, at the mere thought of staying at the camp, guarded, yet another night, Kelsya felt a sort of desperation grasping at her.

She had to take a breath of fresh air. And hope, as hard hoping was, that it could mean something to her.

ยงยงยง

It had taken some courage, but it had been easy after all. She had worn her best smile, asked for some soup, and had a brief talk with Gale to keep the appearances up. To make them think that it was safe, that everything was taking a good turn.

A lie, but not for that long, maybe, if she could just give herself a break. If she could silence her dark impulses and the growing loneliness and desperation.

Kelsya made her way into town, showing everyone the more rounded face of a human and the taller appearance of a human thanks to the Mask.

Soon her companions might notice she was gone, so she'd better make good use of her stolen time.

Holding her violin, she chose her placement near the fountain facing the central walls, drew a long, trembling breath, and then with equally trembling hands brushed the bow against the violin's strings. Standing still, her eyes closed, she waited until inspiration took over.

She waited, and waited, then again until she finally realized it was not going to happen.

Only then did she crumble on the near bench, barely able to keep her grip on the instrument.

She hated that feeling of hopelessness, the idea of an imminent catastrophe upon her head like a fucking sword of Damocles. While Baldur's Gate, and possibly the whole world, needed saving there she was, all frozen, unable to act due to a deeper and deeper desperation. She was walking a thin line between the loss of control and the need to feign it, all the while intangible walls of unworthiness menaced to leave her in crumbles. She deserved that, but she hated, hated, hated how her mind had become restless and barely reined after...

Astarion.

Everyone at camp carefully avoided mentioning him, or talk about what had happened in the palace. Did they think that she could forget him, push him into a deep corner of her mind? When, once or twice, her friends had found her sleeping in his tent, on that dirty wooden plank, they had dismantled his sleeping quarters quickly.

And as they did, she could not have helped wondering if he would ever come back, maybe flash everyone a dashing smile and assure them that no, of course, his disappearance was nothing serious.

Kelsya blinked once, staring at the city from behind a watery curtain.

And when the man beside her spoke, she noticed how she hadn't even seen or heard him.

"Who are you hiding from, my nearest and dearest?", Enver Gortash asked her.

Taken utterly by surprise, she turned towards the Archduke. He was wearing a cape, his appearance partially disguised under it. He seemed to be alone, excluding a Steel Sentinel a few meters away.

"I-I needed some time".

The words slipped out of her lips spontaneously, before she could even conceive them. Surprised by herself, she pressed her lips together. Enver Gortash knew her, but she had no memory of their times together. She could not trust him. Just like I can't trust anyone, she thought. Another stray, unexpected thought.

"How did you recognize me?", Kelsya asked instead.

His response was a light, short laugh. "I have my ways. Plus... You loved this game. You loved playing a thousand roles, and you loved camouflaging as another race. And this time you made it easy".

The sound of that carefree, simple laugh, even if for a moment, lightened her dark baggage. It created a stark contrast between the heavy, serious mood at camp and inside her mind and the idea of a world where someone, anyone could afford to be simply happy.

"So..." Gortash went on, "if you want to, I'll listen. I'm a good listener. That's a skill I practiced over time. And I would be glad to be of help for a trustworthy ally."

For a few seconds, Kelsya remained silent. She wasn't sure she wished to speak. She wasn't sure she didn't want to. His voice was gentle, soft. She sensed no fear or judgment.

"Is there... something I used to do when..." she began, taking a long breath, "or if I had difficulties playing? I mean, I guess I did play back then..."

"You did. And I listened to your music more than once", Gortash said. He softly pursed his lips. "There were times... Well, days, when your Father demanded much of you. Enough that even you, while usually in control, needed to subject yourself to a mindless fury. When you did... you felt drained. Drained enough to feel disconnected from your violin."

Kelsya waited. She knew somehow there was more. And even that bit had her mind running. She was in control, once? More than a puppet? She always supposed being a Chosen would mean becoming a mindless killer.

"When that happened, you hummed the song you wanted to play. You let it flow from your lips to your limbs, to your heart and mind until you... felt its harmony, followed its rhythm, Only then you were able to play again, as beautifully as always.

Holding her breath, almost timidly and afraid even that would not work, Kelsya positioned her violin on her shoulder. The bow on the strings. Then, eyes closed, she started to hum a tune. The first one that came to her mind. She could not see him, but she was aware of Gortash's eyes on her. She had an audience, and she needed to deliver. For several moments, she allowed herself to get lost in the music. No unwelcome memory knocked on her door. No Urge. Suddenly, she heard the sound of her own music. Never stopping once, she performed the whole song. Only then she opened her eyes again. Her sight was clear this time.

"You know, I still have your old instrument. Should you feel the need to have it back... Let me know", Enver said, a smile on his lips.

When he held out his hand, she took it, finally standing.