Laska lay in her bed, too caught in her thoughts to fall asleep. She and her lover bathed in the moonlight coming in through the relatively large portholes on the side of the Swiftwind, but Rose had been sleeping peacefully all night. She had been feeling better since yesterday, but still wasn't completely healthy, so Laska tried not to wake her up.

Frequently, Laska's mind travelled back to the terrible row she had with Imoen after dinner. She didn't like to think back upon the incident, for things had been said that shouldn't been said. Imoen had once again blamed her for being uncaring... and it was killing her slowly inside. The elf feared that things would never be the same between them and did not even know what she was being blamed for. The thoughts crept through her mind like worms burying through her skull into her brain, and she felt more torn up every second.

She wished she could make love to Rose, to lavish her full attention on another person to forget her own troubles. But Rose was still feeling a bit ill, so she divided her time between her thoughts and gently teasing her lover.

She chuckled softly after tickling Rose' nose and the half-elf tried to bat her arm away as if it was a mosquito. Then, she hugged Rose from behind, snaking her arms around her waist while gently suckling on her lover's earlobe. Rose purred contently for a moment, and Laska decided to softly trace two fingers from Rose's neck to her belly-button, stopping there to playfully tickle the sleeping half-elf. Smiling, she slowly slid her hand up her chest again and tickled Rose's chin. It provoked an unexpected reaction.

Laska suddenly had the wind knocked out of her when the still-sleeping half-elf slammed her elbow into Laska's stomach. With a yelp, the surprised elf shot backwards and rolled right out of bed, only to land on the carpeted floor with a small thud. Taking a moment to rub her painful belly, the elf got up on her feet, wondering briefly where the half-elf had gotten the strength and speed not to only catch her off guard but also knock her clear out of bed.

'Oh, well,' Laska smiled briefly, 'I'd better get back into bed before...'

Immediately, Rose groaned briefly and then started rolling into the duvet, wrapping it completely around her body. Then, she folded herself in a fetal position and hid her head under the blankets.

'... Rose vaccuumpacks herself in the duvet, leaving nothing for the elf to sleep under,' Laska finished with a sigh. It would be a cold night for her...

"Bollocks," Laska whispered to no one in particular.

'*Laska!*' sounded in her head. Apparently, Ipsiya made use of a telepathic link between her and Laska. Perhaps not to wake anyone up. The Swiftwind was on minimal watch tonight, and most of the crew was in peaceful slumber. And, of course, the uppity moonblade had deemed fit to call up in the middle of the night.

"What?" Laska whispered back.

'*Laska, come up on deck for a moment, would you?*'

Sighing, the elf decided she had nothing better to do anyway so she might has well hit the deck. She quickly jumped into her pants and wrapped her vest around her back, not bothering to close it by tying the straps. She looked around for her boots, but only noticed one. She shrugged and walked barefoot outside of the room, feeling the shaggy carpet between her toes. The elf absentmindedly considered that she hadn't even left Ipsiya on deck but in the hold below.

Yawning, the elf opened the door to the deck... and suddenly felt herself in a completely different place entirely. Blinking, she found herself standing on a cliff side overlooking the ocean. Feeling a moment's disorientation as the light of the sun hurt her eyes, she attempted to go back the way she came, but found nothing.

"Bout time you got here," the familiar voice of Ipsiya spoke in a slightly mocking tone. Turning around, Laska saw a small elf standing in front of her, roughly three heads shorter than she was. She had raven hair and deep green piercing eyes, wearing a gown that could have been made from the very light of the moon itself.

"Don't recognize me?" Ipsiya smiled. "Oh, yes, I am your sword."

"Wha..."

"Oh, come on, Laska!" Ipsiya said. "Do you know how much of my inner magical power it takes to create this illusion? Stop imitating a fish and close your mouth, we have work to do..."

"Well, you certainly act like Ipsiya," Laska snorted.

Immediately, the small elf raised her chin in a most haughty fashion. "We are on equal terms now," Ipsiya said. "Remember that I am over 1000 years your elder."

"Cute," Laska said. "But... I always thought you were a singing sword..."

"HAH!" Ipsiya chuckled. "Don't you know anything about the lore of your people?! Moonblades normally contain the spirits of all elves who wielded it, like I wielded the moonblade before you."

"But... what about the other spirits, then?" Laska asked, scratching her head. "Why did you became the talking sword?"

"I did say 'normally', didn't I?" Ipsiya grinned. "Well, I used to be Ipsiyaniul Silverdew, high-priestess of Sehanine Moonbow in fabulous Myth Drannor and I wielded the blade that is now called Ipsiya. When the forces of darkness descended on our fair city, our temple was besieged. We had retreated into the tower, but our enemy would be upon us soon. I looked around me... and all I saw were the children. The young acolytes, too frightened to even pick up a sword... too young to die. I knew what I had to do. In order to get enough magical power to ride the Weave to Evermeet, I released the spirits contained in the Moonblade to transport the view survivors to Evermeet and to safety... but there was a price. My own spirit had to become one with the blade to maintain the spell. Ipsiyaniul Silverdew ceased to exist that day, and Ipsiya was born."

"Bugger," Laska said. "I... I can't imagine giving up my... identity, my self..."

"Try being trapped in a room with children while orcs are banging on the door," Ipsiya grinned sardonically. "You'd do what any elf would do."

"So... all this time you were an annoying, uppity, foul-mouth, ill-gotten complaining, conniving, loud-mouth sword, you were actually an elf?" Laska asked.

"Hey," Ipsiya said, "I've been trapped in the form of a sword for 600 years. I'm allowed some eccentricities."

"So..." Laska asked, trying to make conversation. "How long will you be..."

"Forever," Ipsiya snorted. "Or until Sehanine herself sets me free, whatever comes first."

"So..." Laska gulped. "I wield you, so... my spirit won't be absorbed when I die?"

"Hey," Ipsiya snarled. "There's only room in here for one of us, so I'll be kicking you out on your ass if you even dare to enter my blade! I really don't want to spend eternity with you hanging out on the couch."

Laska let out a breath of relief she didn't knew she was holding. "Good to know."

"Yeah, yeah, you enjoy yourself frolicking in Arvandor," Ipsiya said. "And please pull the straps on your vest a little tighter! You look like a dock-whore."

"Thanks," Laska asked. "So, did you just pull me out of bed for the fun of it, or is this all for some reason."

"Yep," Ipsiya said. "The reason is that you're starting to hate yourself."

"Come again?"

"Don't try to fool me," Ipsiya said. "You think Imoen hates you, so you hate yourself because you think that way. Pretty messed up situation if you ask me. But then again, you never do."

Laska turned away from Ipsiya and walked towards the cliff, sitting down on the edge, letting her legs hang above the depths below. "Sometimes," Laska sighed. "I just feel like it would have been better... if I hadn't been born at all. My friends... I've dragged them all over the Sword Coast for my sake... my selfish sake. Even my Rose... I drag the woman I love along with my adventures... And when will it end? If it will end at all. I am a Bhaalspawn, Ipsiya. I'm not meant to live a long life."

"In your own words... 'Bullocks'," Ipsiya spoke. "Come on, let me show you..."

The world swirled around her and Laska found herself standing in the middle of a circus.

"Alright," Ipsiya said, "we'll do it your way. Let's say that you were never born. Take your time, nobody can see you."

A familiar giggle sounded from the side of the tent, and there entered a strange sight. It was Imoen, pink-haired and all, riding a unicycle while juggling five balls in her hands. Her face was painted white while her lips were a bright red. The children in the tent loved it and cheered loudly. Especially when Imoen 'pretended' to slip off the unicycle and cycled wildly though the tent, until Imoen pretended to fall and landed face-down in a strategically placed pie.

"She looks happy," Laska smiled. "A clown, but happy..."

"She is," Ipsiya said. "She ran away from Candlekeep and joined the circus, making children happy. She enjoys life as a travelling clown. But others are less fortunate."

Immediately, the scene shifted, and Laska found herself standing at a hangman's tree. A familiar figure swung from the tree, her body swaying in the wind. Viconia's dead, lifeless accusing eyes pierced through Laska's spirit. The elf quickly turned away from her dead friend.

"She actually killed her Flaming Fist pursuer without your help," Ipsiya nodded. "Problem is, nobody believed her when she said it was self-defense when the reinforcements turned up later. Of course, you and Imoen weren't there to help her out."

"Get me out of here," Laska choked.

"You sure? You might not like what you see..."

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Laska snarled and lashed out at Ipsiya. Her fist unexpectedly passed right through the smaller elf, causing Laska to yelp, twirled around and ended up lying face-down in the grass.

But when she got up, she was standing in the orange glow of dusk, in a muddy field filled with the stench of death. Laska's sensitive eyes and ears were assaulted with the undeniable spirit of death floating on this field. Dead bodies lay everywhere, left to rot away by their comrades. Here and there, and anguished wail of a single survivor sounded out from the battle-scarred field, while ghouls shuffled around, looking for an easy meal. Well, they had plenty to choose from.

When she was younger, Laska had an idealized view of war and combat, just like she had an idealized view of just about anything. But when she started to travel on her own, she found that there was no glory in war, no valor, no honor. There were no winners here, lying in the dirt. Everyone here was a mothers' child... and the only real winners of the Reaper's fest, were the ghouls.

"Where is this?" Laska asked.

"Coast Way," Ipsiya said. "Just south of Beregost. The first place where forces of Amn and Baldur's Gate butted heads. It's only the start of Sarevok's war... but he'll soon be very disappointed that he won't ascend. So, he'll go forth to track down and kill all the Bhaalspawn. He was killed and eaten by a Dragon Bhaalspawn down south, eventually."

"A DRAGON Bhaalspawn?!" Laska gulped. "Wow, I sure hope I won't have to meet that one."

"Look around you," Ipsiya said. "You're the one who prevented this mess in the first place."

"Oh, if it wasn't me, it would have been someone else..."

"Bollocks!" Ipsiya grinned. "In your own words. Face it, Laska, you touch lives, whether you want to or not."

"I'm not..."

"Shut up, you impudent child, and listen to your elders!" Ipsiya replied sharply. "You ARE a worthy elf, Laska. I knew that when you first picked me up under Athkatla. If you weren't worthy I would have been forced to reduce you to ashes like any other Moonblades!"

"Would you really have charred me?"

"Nah," Ipsiya snorted, "I'd been lying there for centuries so I wasn't picky. But that's besides the point, because I know a worthy elf when I sense one. Face it, you change lives. The worst is yet to come."

Suddenly, Laska found herself standing in front of the old building in the Bridge-section Rose rented with her meager income. The entire first floor was hers and contained two rooms. The larger section were her private quarters where she lived and where she met with her female clients. Male clients were usually led into the separate, smaller room away from her private room. Laska remembered that at this point in her life, Rose never let any males in her private circle.

The door to her private quarters, and out came Rose and another woman, and judging from her attire, it was a noblewoman whom had been slumming. Rose had often said her elvish looks had attracted the young noblewomen wanting to experiment. Apparently, these two had had earlier dealings, because Rose grasped her hand and kissed her cheek before waving goodbye. Laska grimaced as the green-eyed monster took its position, but then she realized that she and Rose had apparently never met in this reality.

And it seemed that Rose was not finished for the night. She took her usual position near the Five Flagon's Inn and waited for a new customer.

Filled with loathing, Laska noticed a particularly nasty-looking sailor approach the woman she loved. With satisfaction, she saw through Rose's fake smile and noticed the barely veiled contempt for the sailor. The two negotiated and apparently, the man only wanted 'a quick one' in the alley. With bile rising up in her throat, she saw the two slip into the alley near Rose's old home and turned away.

"Rose is still a prostitute," Ipsiya said. "You were never there to give her a reason or the opportunity to leave the business. She never bought the Midrest and never helped her friends get a real job and a real life either."

"I've seen enough," Laska snarled. "Take me back where I belong."

"Not yet," Ipsiya said solemnly, as if there was a heavy weight on her shoulder.

"No kissing!" Laska heard Rose shout from the alley. Turning around, she noticed Rose and the man were struggling. "I told you, no kissing!" Rose countered again, apparently against the man's wishes.

"I ain't good enough for ya, bitch?!" the man shouted, and to Laska's horror, a silver flash shined through the alley. An anguished wail escaped Laska's mouth as the man walked away as casually as always while a moaning Rose sank to the ground clutching her chest.

Imoen slept alone today, still recovering from her row with Laska. She did not even dare to sleep next to Viconia today, though the Drow did offer her support. Instead, she slept on a surprisingly soft bag of grain in the hold. The hold was pitch-dark, but Imoen did not mind. In the past few months, darkness had become her friend instead of her enemy. At least should could not see danger approaching in the danger... She considered it strange how things could change. For years, she could only sleep with a nightlight on if she was alone, and she always believed that Laska could protect her and chase all the ghosts away.

Imoen?

Imoen was instantly wide awake. Did she heard that strange voice correctly?

Suddenly the room was filled with a bright light, and in the middle of it all stood a tall elf wearing hunting gear and a bow slung over her shoulder. A ready smile played on her lips as she gazed upon the stunned human girl in front of her.

"No, no, no, no," Laska wailed, while she rushed to Rose, "this isn't happening, this isn't real!"

She quickly examined the wound and found it be an extremely nasty chest-wound close to her heart, done with a serrated knife. Rose appeared to be near delirium as blood trickled from her mouth. Something had to be done soon or she would die within the next few minutes.

"Come on!" Laska shouted futilely to the passers-by's. "Look over here! Come on!" she panicked. "WHY ISN'T ANYONE HELPING HER?!"

The truth crushed her : these people were just not interested in helping a dying prostitute in a back alley.

"Rose, Rose," Laska said and took her hand, being surprised that she could touch her. Quickly, she pulled the shivering half-elf to her, hoping to share some of her warmth now that she was losing so much blood. "I'm here for you. Keep on fighting! Don't give up!"

One of Rose's eyes cracked open briefly. And to Laska's surprise, a wry chuckle, which came out more like a croak, escaped from Rose's bloodstained lips. "The woman of my dreams..." Rose coughed, "comes to me when I'm dying... Figures..."

"Rose, hold on," Laska said. "I'll bring you to a temple."

"Too late," there was no sense of hope in Rose's voice. "Just... hold me. Please, hold me..."

Knowing not what to do Laska complied and pressed the half-elf to her chest, allowing Rose to lay her head on her shoulder, allowing her to settle comfortably. The half-elf relaxed and closed her eyes, leaning back. "I love you," Laska whispered while tears ran over her cheers.

A last, weak smile appeared on Rose's face before the half-elf let out a last, final sigh. Her head slumped against Laska's shoulder now while her arms went limp.

"I never wanted this," Imoen sniffed as she and the mysterious elf were watching Laska and Ipsiya from a distance. In the background, Laska was weeping softly while she held her dead lover tightly.

"Oh, yes, you did," the elf nodded. "You wanted her to know pain. To suffer as you had suffered. To know what it's like... That's what I heard in your mind."

"I didn't MEAN it!" Imoen shouted. "I... I never wanted anything like this... Not like this... Not Laska... She won't be able to deal with this..."

"It's not real..."

"Real enough for her," Imoen started to cry now as well. "And real enough for me. End this, please."

"I am merely granting your wish."

"UNGRANT IT!" Imoen shouted. "Aren't you goddesses smart enough to keep false and real wishes apart?"

"I can't," the elf spoke. "Sorry, but it'll be good for both of you."

"How can this be good for anything?!" Imoen sniffed. "She'll hate me forever for this!"

"So, you DO care what she thinks about you?"

"She's my sister, dammit!" Imoen shouted. "No matter how much dumb things she does or how mad I am with her, she's my sister and I don't want her to be hurt!"

"Watch..."

"Ipsiya, you BITCH!" Laska shouted, gently carrying the body of Rose in her arms. "When we get back to the ship, I'll throw you in the ocean! You hear me?! You're SHARK-BAIT!"

"It's not real, Laska," Ipsiya said. "Not any of this. Not me, not Rose, only you are real."

"Why?!" Laska shouted. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Don't ask me," Ipsiya said. "I'm just a sword... but if you really must know, it's to prepare you."

"Tell me what and I promise I will wring your neck."

"That's not a very good deal..."

"I haven't told you what I will do to you if you don't tell me."

"Ah, I see," Ipsiya grinned. "Well, do you want to know why Imoen is mad at you?"

A bright light struck Laska, and she was instantly bombarded with a waterfall of images and a torrent of feelings. The intense fear when first arriving at Spellhold. The claustrophobia those first nights in her tiny cell. The slowly dawning realization that she was still a prisoner, her freedom taken away. The intense hope that rescue would come for her soon, that it was just a matter of time. Putting up a brave face to make new friends among the inmate, while on the other hand deeply fearing the instructors. The cold nightmare of one of the acolytes coming into her room one night, his intentions clear. She had managed to kick the acolyte in the right place but was not believed and put away in solitary confinement for a month. A month in a round room with no one to talk to, nothing to do... and ending up being dragged from the room screaming after banging her head into the walls several times. Then, being put back in her cell day after day, all the while hoping for a rescue. Hope turned to doubt and doubt turned to fear as life progressed, soon to be replaced with an all-crushing loneliness... she was completely and utterly alone, waiting for some release from this empty existence. She threw herself on her magic studies in a vain attempt to forget her predicament, but always it returned. She felt lonely and forgotten, her young life would be wasted in this place... her entire life would be between these four walls, never to go outside, never to see trees again, never to see her friends again. She silently screamed her loneliness away every night. Then, suddenly, magic... and sleep. And there was her sister, standing in front of her... not having lifted a finger to rescue her. Her sister had been enjoying herself... WITHOUT HER! WITHOUT HER PRECIOUS LITTLE SISTER! PICKNICKS WHILE SHE WAS WASTING AWAY OF LONELINESS! SO MUCH SHE HAD MISSED WHILE HER SISTER HAD CARRIED ON WITHOUT HER, WITHOUT HER SPECIAL LITTLE SISTER! And even now there was no time for her... her sister's new lover was monopolizing most of her time. Her sister wouldn't even keep her safe at night anymore. She felt sad and lonely, even within the group of people she loved. She felt like she didn't fit in anymore and it was her sister's fault... she had forgotten her.

Again Laska found herself screaming, not being able to deal with the imagery and emotions soaring through her spirit. She found herself sitting on her knees back at the cliff side. Opening her eyes, she was she was kneeling in front of Imoen, who was looking at her with a questioning look.

"Hey, Las?" Imoen asked carefully. "Are you okay?"

Tears ran over Laska's cheeks like waterfalls. "I'm sorry!" Laska wailed while she crushed Imoen in a fierce embrace. "I'm so very sorry!" she sobbed.

"I'm sorry too," Imoen started to cry again. "I never wanted you to be hurt. I swear I never wanted you to be hurt."

"How did you manage?" Laska sobbed. "You're so strong... You were never broken. I... I experienced what you experienced and I... I didn't want to live anymore halfway through..."

"You elves go mad without your freedom," Imoen sobbed. "But I never stopped believing you'd come for me... until I got home and found you there."

"I would have come for you, Imoen," Laska sobbed. "But I was... afraid of Irenicus... I wanted to be very strong to beat him but it was just an excuse..."

"When I first got home... nothing was the same anymore," Imoen sniffed, "I just felt so... useless."

"You're not useless," Laska said. "You'd never be useless. It's me that's useless. I'm just a coward... Gods, I left you in that hell-hole..."

"You're no coward, Big-Ears," Imoen managed a warm smile. "You're one of the bravest women I know, but you do need a good kick in the ass sometimes."

"I missed you," Laska said, clutching to her sister. "Oh, gods, I missed you so."

"Hey," Imoen smiled, slightly pulling on Laska's braid. "What do you say to us acting like sisters again?"

"Bury the hatchet?"

"I wouldn't recommend doing that on a boat," Imoen giggled. "Though I'm sure Jan has a story handy about it."

Suddenly, Laska and Imoen, still embracing, found themselves on the deck of the Swiftwind, the starts shining brightly above their heads.

"Oh, look!" Imoen pointed to the sky. "A shooting star! Quick, make a wish!"

The two sisters fell silent for a few moments. "Did you wish the same as I did?" Laska asked.

"Uh-huh," Imoen said and briefly swatted Laska's shoulder.

"Love?" the tired voice of Rose came up from the bow. Sure enough, Rose, wearing a bathrobe, stepped on deck. "Why'd you leave the bed?"

But Laska did not answer. Instead, the extremely happy elf took the hapless half-elf in an extremely tight embrace.

"OOOFFF," Rose exclaimed as the elf lifted her off the deck. "Okay, there is now officially no more air in my lungs..."

"Sorry," Laska said sheepishly. "But you have no idea how happy I am to see you!"

"ROSIE!" Imoen shouted and hugged her from behind, while Rose gave them a 'have you both gone mad?!'-look.

"Hey," Laska told Imoen playfully. "Get your own lover!"

"I intend to, in time," Imoen smiled.

Rose smiled for a moment. "I take it, you are doing better?"

"Imoen and I still have a lot of talking to do," Laska spoke.

"But we'll work things out."

Viconia came up from the lower decks to take her position at the Helm and was confronted with a strange sight : Imoen and Laska, laying on a blanket next to each other watching the stars together.

"You dumbass!"

"No, you're a dumbass!"

"No, you're a dumbass!"

"No, you're a dumbass!"

"You're a real dumbass!"

"No, you're a real dumbass! One of those really fancy store-bought dumbasses!"

"Oh, yeah?! Well, double-dumbass on you!"

"Double-dumbass to infinity for you!"

"Double-dumbass to infinity plus one!"

"Doub... Oh, dammit!" Laska cursed, while Imoen giggled.

Viconia shook her head and went back below decks.

"That was like, mega-cool, Sehanine!" Sharess giggled as all the goddesses were gathered around the scrying-bowl.

"Can we expect support from the Seldarine, now?" Tymora asked hopefully.

"Sadly, no," Sehanine said. "Crafting that illusion was stretching the rules, and it could only be done because she is a moon-elf and moon-elves belong to my portfolio. Corellon has decided that we should wait and see how the situation develops further before we involve ourselves in this mainly human affair."

"Hey, that really was a good one," Sune spoke. "Do you really think they will be alright?"

Tymora gazed upon the two sisters giggling and chatting about generally inane things. "Oh, yes," she smiled. "They will be fine."