A village got together to make a gift package for Wraithvine and friends. New ever-lasting boots that would be warmer in winter and cooler in summer, new clothing again, warm in winter, cool in summer, and bags of holding enchanted to not only hold.. ... well a lot, but also so foodstuffs could never spoil while within, and drinks could never spill while within. -- The New Guy
The thing about immortality is, even when something is made to last for centuries, those things fall apart. Even granite wears away. Cloth, even charmed cloth made to self-repair and also wear well, will thin and fall apart.
Nothing lasts forever. Even the sun will burn itself up, the stars will fade, and the universe will come to a standstill.
None of that was Wraithvine's concern when, at the end of the battle to save Greenhaven, half his robes had burned to ash and the other half were only held together with hope. Then again, ze'd hardly fared any better. It had been that rough of a fight.
Hir last act before collapsing where ze stood was to take off the remnants of hir hat and clutch it to hir chest. Repair after repair, ze had had it since becoming a wizard. Though there wasn't an original thread left, the soul of the hat remained. It would be repaired again if ze had anything to say about it.
Wraithvine woke up in the village healer's bed, with hir hat on the bedside table where ze could easily find it. Well. That was some good news.
Better news was the child who ran from the room, announcing hir consciousness.
Well-wishers flooded in soon after. People Wraithvine had saved. People bringing scraps of cloth for hir hat. Some bringing fortifying food for hir health. Others bringing useful things. A bag of preservation. A bag of containment. Boots of Durability. Socks of comfort. Self-cleaning underwear. And, nervously adding silver thread to the fabric, one villager urgently adding to the final runes on an Allweather Robe.
"I... didn't know you were artificers," Wraithvine managed. "I wasn't expecting so many rewards."
"You nearly paid your life for our safety," said the sewing villager. They were adding more runes for self-repair into the fabric. "The least we can do is replace most of what you've lost."
"Or give you some dignity," added the one with the underwear. "You've helped us. Let us help you."
Wraithvine sighed in relief and let the help come to hir. It would be a nice holiday.
[Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash]
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