Today’s snippet, titled “Ever, Waiting”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Edvic stopped half-way up the path, placed his left hand on his hip and fanned himself with his right. Lyuba shook her head. Little Klara just gaped. It was difficult, but somehow, Rilla managed to repress a smug little smile.
      Watching her friends from The Frothing Otter come up through the garden path, she smoothed down the front of her dress, tucked a loose curl behind her ear, and then waved.
      “Rilla,” Praskoviya said, stomping up to the front porch. “This is what you left us for? This- this- …cottage?”
      The way the word rolled off her tongue, it was apparent that Kovi was not impressed by the place. Perhaps she thinks nothing short of a stone manse on the isle is good enough for her, but I think I shall be quite content here! Rilla opened the door to let her friends in.
      “Kovi, you make it sound like a betrayal. I am simply-”
      “A whore.”
      Her spine stiffened, but she did not rise to the prick. “No more than any of you. Gavriil chose me, and he cares for my comfort. I could not have asked for a finer man as a lover and anyway, you’re just jealous, Kovi. I know you coveted several of the little houses on this block.”
      Klara giggled. “That’s true! I remember when you thought that the Colonel was going to buy you a house, you chose the one just there with the blue door!”
      Praskoviya’s glower silenced the girl. Rilla wanted to admonish her, but today was a day to enjoy and if she lead off their afternoon by telling Kovi to shut her stupid, loud mouth it would turn into a big mess. She bit her tongue, but when she hugged Klara in greeting, Rilla made sure to hold the girl close a moment longer than necessary – a quiet gesture of support. She hoped Klara picked up on the subtlety.
      Though Gavriil had provided amply for her upkeep, Rilla knew she was not the type of woman to keep her own house. She took it upon herself to dole out a small percentage of her savings to employ a young handmaiden and a part-time housekeeper; Lai-Lai was Klara’s age and innocent as new snow whereas Mrs. Cavaec was a saucy old widow with no end of stories that could make Rilla’s cheeks go scarlet.
      Today, Lai-Lai eavesdropped on the wild tales Rilla’s friends from the Frothing Otter recounted with relish. Even when not actively refilling tea cups or serving iced wine, the girl kept obnoxiously close, hovering either over Rilla’s shoulder or in the closest doorway. Mrs. Cavaec clattered pots and pans about in the kitchen, singing some bawdy bar song under her breath.
      Rilla was pleased at their reaction. Even Praskoviya seemed impressed by the beautifully appointed little house, the elegant attire Rilla wore, and the servants rushing about at Rilla’s bidding. Still, no matter how gay the conversation and how pleased she was to see her friends, there was a sadness in her heart. She missed Gavriil.
      Don’t be silly, she told herself. He is not your one true love, if there is any such thing. Gavriil is your benefactor, your lover, and maybe even your friend. But he’s not going to marry you, Rilla. He will visit when he can – a few times a year, but no more – and when he has found some small breasted noblewoman to give him sons, he’ll put you out to pasture like a favorite cow.
      “…don’t you think? Rilla?”
      “What?” She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
      Edvic smirked. He knew her better than she cared to think and Rilla was fairly certain he could read her mind at times. His tone was catty as he sipped his tea and re-directed his question to her. “I said, dear girl, that the food is already improving at the Otter, and I hear there haven’t been any further burnings around. How funny that it all happened just as your patron’s troupe returned from the North, don’t you think?”
      Rilla swallowed thickly. Gavriil hadn’t spoken too much of their work in the North, but she had the distinct impression than they had in fact been the heroes of the day. There were still shortages, and some people worried that there would be starvation come winter, but the trouble had been quashed, it seemed. She managed a wan smile.
      “Coincidence, I suppose. Oh! Klara, why don’t you tell everyone what you saw the other day when we met in the market? That’s a strange story.”
      The girl seized the opportunity to be center of attention for awhile with both hands and leapt to her feet to better act out the anecdote.
      Rilla set her tea cup aside and glanced out the window. Gavriil and his comrades have such a dangerous job. I wonder, if he falls in battle, will I ever even know of it? Or will I just sit here, smiling a false smile and pretending, waiting…

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Note: Image is “Chelsea” by trubluboy from SXC.hu