In a Different Life
((9 August 2008))
The Boomstick Gang forum has a mini-RP challenge to speculate what would happen if one major event in the character's life had happened differently.
As noted in Part IV of Reunion, Calsh's little sister Heacha got sick and very nearly died. She did eventually recover somewhat, although to this day she's still weakened from it.
Calsh's entry speculated on what would have happened if she hadn't survived the illness.
Even Heacha's breathing had become laborious. It sounded to Calsh like she had to focus nearly the entire strength she had remaining just to keep her chest rising and falling; indeed, she'd admitted as much to him on one of the rare occasions she allowed herself to speak. Her covers had long since been pushed off, and even so, her too-loose clothes and the sheets she was resting on top of were damp with sweat. He hadn't even known it was possible for someone as young as his sister to sweat so much, but there was no denying what he saw and felt as he tended to her. She was awake, but it looked like she was struggling to remain so.
She spoke. Her voice was barely audible, but he focused on her as he heard her say "Calsh, take my hand." She managed a very slight smile as she moved the limb in his general direction.
He moved his hand to intercept hers before she exerted too much effort, and clasped her hand between his two. Even when she was healthy she'd been smaller than him; in her current condition, his hand absolutely dwarfed hers. The sweat made it difficult to hold on, but he managed; he felt her give an almost imperceptible squeeze. He squeezed back as she closed her eyes.
Two minutes later, her chest stopped rising.
— Present Day —
Calsh sighed as his cart bumped over the bridge leaving Menethil Harbor. He didn't particularly look forward to the journey -- it felt like the thousandth time he'd run this route -- but it was better than being in Menethil with her. The woman had been friendly enough to begin with, and even more so after a few nights and a few drinks, but as she'd started to become obsessive about him, he'd realized that the relationship was not to be. That didn't stop the gnome, whose name he was trying to avoid even thinking about, from hounding him every time he visited the port town.
And he did have to visit often. There were always shipments to be moved back and forth between Ironforge and the port of Menethil, and the route wasn't very dangerous. Of course, that also meant that there were more than enough others willing to perform the same service, and it wasn't a particularly profitable trip. Sure, he knew that he could make more money with taking jobs through more dangerous areas, but why should he? More money wouldn't get him everything. His lifestyle required mobility, so he effectively lived out of his cart and any available inns as he traveled back and forth between the capital and the port, so it didn't make much sense for him to own many material possessions. He had nobody to support -- none of his family had managed to survive the fall of Gnomeregan. No, this route was safe and paid enough for his purposes; he could put up with a little boredom for his safety.
A tiny vial of ashes swung back and forth under his shirt as his cart bounced down the bumpy road.