Early morning, sometime after the Party had explored the Church's crypts, and released the lich...
A jaunty tune emanates from behind a closed door, the floorboards creaking in time to the rhythm of the song. Martel, eyes closed and fiddle in hand, glides around the room, thoughtlessly playing a song not yet written. Rain falls against the windows of the tavern bedroom, streaks of it's remnants dancing on the glass panes alongside the Lo Rainard... He had been here for some time, not just in the tavern room, but in this thoughtless dance, likely hours. His entire body working overtime to stave off any and all thoughts; only the music mattered.
Evening, the same day...
Quiet tears leave streaks on Martel's fur, his body motionlessly standing in the middle of the room. The creaking of the floorboards, the music, the distractions, were silenced, gone. His blistered hands hung at his side, gripping the static instruments of the fiddle, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, casting into the future. Predicting the future. A future he knew in his bones would continue to repeat... He just knew it. He snarled, feral and angry, flinging the instrument against the wall, the shattering of it breaking the silence. Sobs began to escape from his maw, frustration and fear bubbling up to overtake him, the days activity having done nothing but delay this inevitable breakdown... 'It isn't fair'. Martel stood this way for some time, the patter of rain only interrupted when dread became too great for his throat to contain. Every loss he'd ever endured creeping at the edges of his mind, his thoughts cast into his future, predicting a trend of grief, and loss, and loneliness...
Morning...
On top of a bed sat the broken pieces of an instrument, it's repair inevitable. It had not chosen to become so broken, but it did have the choice to mend itself... Martel could no longer pretend, could no longer escape from the possibilities of the future. It was not his first choice to care enough to fear, but if the choice was to be alone, or fear the loss of those he loved and care anyways, he needed to try... Again. And again. And again.