Name: shadowsong26
Story: Seeking Counsel
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Paprika #6. Every other day I crossed the line., Plant Party #49. Corymbia
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Halftime: Lillith Faire Village Stage), photography, eraser (Keta AU), acrylic, oils, stain, novelty beads ("There's no reasons, no excuses/There's no secondhand alibis." - 20 Years, the Civil Wars)
Word Count: 296
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Keta
Warnings: References to previous character/family death, references to the general situation/anti-mage bias in Feredar.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. So I wrote in this AU last year for a self-insert challenge and decided Actual Good Guy Keta needed to be a Thing for more than a one-shot.


Keta didn't spend much time visiting her husband's grave. Even now, after all these years, the loss was still too painful. But she needed...she needed his closeness, and the illusion of his counsel.

It wasn't that she regretted her choice. She couldn't. Reta was an innocent child, one she loved. Protecting her was not wrong, despite what she was. Keta knew that, and a part of her was a little ashamed of herself, that it had taken getting to know a--a mage personally for her to come to that conclusion.

So, no, she didn't regret it. Except...

Her husband, who she had loved, had been a very good man. He had been kind, and decent, and upright, and moral, and had never, to her knowledge, broken even the slightest law.

What would he think of her now? Would he see the goodness in what she was trying to do, the--the wrongness in the law she broke? Or would he only see--would he only see the crime?

So, here she was, sitting at her husband's grave, missing him and waiting for some sign that he--that he would still love her, would have still loved her, even if he didn't approve of what she'd done.

She didn't get a sign, not in any real sense. The skies didn't open up in sunshine or in storms, the flowers didn't bloom, the grass didn't wither and die.

But she felt--calm. At peace. And she and her beloved had never been demonstrative. Surely, after an hour of sitting here by him, the guilt would have crushed her if he disapproved.

She kissed her fingertips and rested them lightly on the carving of his name, then rose and walked away, to decide what she should do next.