Today’s snippet, titled “We Ride, pt. 2”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Rhiallis felt a degree of amazement at the eagerness of her voice as past-Rhiallis began to climb to her feet. Viggo took her hand and pulled her back down to the battered woolen cloak they had used as a blanket.
      “Many, several, and tomorrow, before dawn.” Viggo wet his lips, fumbling in his pocket. He withdrew something that glimmered in the heavy, ruddy light of the early evening. “But before then, I have two questions for you. Healer Corweir, if you will indulge me?”
      Past-Rhiallis looked troubled by his use of a polite title and surname, but Rhiallis’ lips curved in the present and she touched a finger to the hollow at the base of her throat, as if she could still feel the pendant there.
      Viggo – wearing the stoic face of Commander Relane, though his eyes danced as he watched past-Rhiallis – held out a brooch. It was slightly less than two inches long, and quite narrow, but the gleam of true silver was unmistakable.
      “The captains and I have spoken at length, Healer Corweir, and it is my honor to offer you official rank in the Lowland Militia. Will you accept this insignia, and take commission as a First Lieutenant?”
      Past-Rhiallis nodded, “You honor me, Commander Relane. I thank you for this opportunity and I vow, I shall not let you down.”
      Viggo pressed the pin into her palm. “I could never believe you would.”
      “And the second question?”
      “Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat and shifted position, so he was kneeling before her. “I have been meaning to ask you this, for quite some time Rhiallis. Throughout the summer, nothing has weighed more upon my mind, save perhaps the encroaching demonic horde. And now, it seems that perhaps I was foolish to wait so long.
      “Still, just sitting here with you this afternoon has lifted my heart more than I can express. You know me, Rhi, I am no poet. I speak plainly and say only the truth when I do. So you may trust me when I tell you – I love you like no other, and I want you to agree to become my wife.”
      Past-Rhiallis and present-Rhiallis broke out into tears in unison, though in the common room she wept silently and beneath the remembered cedar tree, freely and with laughter.
      “Of course, I shall, of course!”
      Viggo bade her turn around and tied a ribbon about her neck. A pendant hung in the center, resting just at the hollow of her throat. It was a thin golden disk anc was embossed with a longsword and a healer’s knot entwined. The circle was rimmed with a multitude of tiny emerald chips and even now, it took her breath away to see it.
      “I shall spend my every breath, making you as happy as you have made me, my love.”
      Past-Rhiallis kissed him and then drew away, still weeping. “We shall have to see a priest tonight, straight away, I think. For tomorrow, we ride.”
      Her breath caught in her throat in both waking and dreaming world, a strangled sound escaping her lips.
      “Are you all right, Rhiallis?”
      In the darkness, she opened her eyes and saw Lieutenant Graves looming over her. She was late to bed and though a miasma of ale and smoke wafted about her, her worry was sincere and her words unslurred.
      “I am, Graves,” she whispered, and hastily wiped an errant tear from her cheek. “Just a little dream, I suppose.”
      “Yeah. I know too much about dreams these days. And on a night like tonight, I don’t think even I could drink enough to quiet them all.”
      Rhiallis managed a weak smile and watched her friend make her way to her own bed. Despite the tears and the ache in her chest, she knew she should be grateful that she was not plagued by nightmares like those Graves endured.
      My tears are those of sorrow now, but they were born of joy. These dreams, as much as they hurt, I can handle them. I don’t think I am strong enough to take it, not as strong as she must be, to get up each morning and battle evil as we do regardless of the demons haunting her sleep.
      “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. “Tomorrow, we ride.”

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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me