Miribelle the Gunslinger - August 12th

Miri's life wasn't a terrible one.  Living in a community of Gnomish thinkers and dreamers, the Enclave of the Stars Path set out to establish not only intellectual and creative freedoms but also to show the world that the diminutive people weren't just wandering gypsies of sylvanic blood.

The early days with her husband were filled with fits of excited discovery.  Stars were mapped, inventive ideas were pulled from the ether and given written theory.  The new pair's place in the enclave was solid, and bright.

There is something to be said about the destructive power of jealousy.  It has a way of bleeding its caustic ink even into the brightest places and blotting them out.

As time wore on, Miri's intellect and diversity in many of the offered fields dwarfed that of her husbands.  While he struggled to present his plans for a unified theory on the effects of the arcane, Miri seemed to effortlessly create reality from any idea that crossed her fancy.  Multi-chambered pistols to replace simple dueling single-shots, non-destructive infusions of the arcane into every day objects and even a theory on the divine gates were presented with glee to her struggling partner.

And the ink began to dim their relationship.

Miri's husband started to resent her.  His loathing of how someone so young, who had never been schooled in anything beyond the best routes for a caravan to travel from Redwall to Emmerien Falls, could not only keep up with his own work, but surpass it on such an impressive level grew day by day.  

The months brought a darker, deeper distance between them.  His words with her growing sharp, then belittling, and finally hateful.

One evening, deep into the quiet hours, after her husband spent a week stuck on a theory, she decided to help.  She could see his rut.  See how it ate at him and left him hungry at the same time.  She re-wrote the broken parts he had strewn across several blackboards, hoping he'd see the revisions and be renewed to take the research to the next level.

Perhaps he'd ask her to work with him again.

It had been so long.

Alas, the ink soaked their page.

His screaming jarred her awake, and brought her running, only to see the furious man glaring at her.  Accusing her of deliberately trying to destroy him.  To ruin him.

She tried to explain.  To make him see that it was only one small mistake, and the path was clear for him to continue into the new advancements.

But her husband made another error, far worse than a fragment of theory that wouldn't fit its larger puzzle.

He struck her.

His fury caused him to storm from their house, leaving her bewildered, shaking.. but strangely enlightened.

The ink dripped.

Every blackboard was cleared.  Every parchment was burned, every bit of her influence was removed.  The lab left as sterling as it was when they first arrived.  Save one note.

"Dearest Husband, perhaps this is a theory you can understand.  The theory of cause and effect.  Its quite simple, even for a mind like yours.  That even just a momentary strike can have far, far rippling effects.  In this case the effect is the loss of a partner, the loss of her every influence on your life.  The loss of all we had.  The smaller mind that sends the larger star hurtling away from him.  Learn to swim, lest your work drown you.  Farewell."

With that, she gathered the few inventions she gave physical form, the pair of chambered pistols, the flick-flame, and strode her way towards Redwall.  An uncertain future, for one of her kind, but if she stay true to herself, one that could be very bright.