Another Covenant Day alone in a world that doesn’t celebrate it. In fact, he may even be wrong. Who knows how long he spends in Cilantro’s realm between being thrown back into Faerûn?! Time is counted differently here and he can’t imagine how Thandi must have felt when she faced the Allerian calendar for the first time. Gods above and below, a “week” here is also called a “tenday”— because guess what? A week is ten days.
So. He doesn’t know when Covenant Day truly is. But he tries to time it with the turn of the year.
His last Covenant Day with Thandi… he didn’t even get to speak his vow to her. He didn’t even get to give her the token he had planned to.
The paper that he wrote his first vow on now sits rolled up in a small keepsake box, his family ring slide onto the roll. I will never let you be lonely. I will be the home you can come back to. I love you and I always will.
A vow unmade is still unbroken. And yet the guilt eats at him for it. Covenant Day is the anniversary of the event. The anniversary of Thandi’s disappearance. The anniversary of upheaval in Alleria, since Ascendance decided to pull their little stunt.
But. Despite the despair. He tries to think positively. Thandi is alive. Cilantro, for all his faults, doesn’t lie about serious things. Rather, the creature relishes delivering news to Charlie when it suits him best.
Rev sleeps in his lap, fat on Covenant peanuts. Charlie’s hand rests on the bird and the box. He still ended up with things he wanted to give Thandi as tokens. And he still put his vows in this little wooden box.
Earrings, small gold studs enchanted with danger detection. She always wore those larger ones, but she isn’t so much a jewelry woman. Still, they look nice on her.
I will protect you to the best of my abilities. I will find you and make up for a lost year. I will free you from your obligations.
A comb made with soft bristles, the body lacquered finally and painted with a gorgeous peony. Not enchanted, but useful. After all, his clothes had still not worn out, and his accessories were entirely tokens from her. Her ring on his left hand, her pins in his hair, and… the exception, the ring that still hangs round his neck that matches the one on his left hand.
I will find you no matter how long it takes. I will grow strong for you. I will hone my skills so that when we meet again, you can be proud of who I am.
His cravat pin, which she picked out all those years ago, snapped. It was well worn and well-loved, and though he hesitated at first to combine two tokens into one, he commissioned a skilled thaumaturgic jeweler into attaching the tiny emerald to the earrings from the first anniversary. It would dangle from one ear prettily, and he relished the idea of her pushing some loose hair back and revealing the beautiful work.
I love you, and I will continue to love you. Our love may grow and change like the gifts I have procured for you, but it won’t change the fact that I dedicate my entire being to you. I will cherish you, my dearest Thandi.
His silken handkerchief, long worn out by many nights of tears, becomes part of a silk scarf for her hair. The embroidered CV sits at one end, accompanied by a second embroidered TV above it. The latest in the collection.
Thandi, my greatest love, I will not die until long after we have achieved our goals. I will follow you wherever you dare to tread. I will always be by your side once we are reunited. I love you.
It goes into the box.
How many more tokens? How many more vows? How many more years? His patience has grown but it does not make him ache any less. All he’s done in Faerûn is study her world. Study bits of the life she mentioned. Study the pieces of the incomplete puzzle his dear wife is.
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