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cafenauda · 1 year

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Làm việc để... làm gì?

LỜI NÓI ĐẦU

Chào mọi người, chúng ta lại gặp nhau vào những ngày dịp cuối năm và bài viết hôm nay mình sẽ không mang đến nội dung chia sẻ kiến thức - kinh nghiệm mà là một bài viết chém gió sự đời nhân dịp nhìn lại một năm vừa qua. Với những ai chưa biết thì các bài viết của mình sẽ xoay quanh chủ đề liên quan đến các lĩnh vực Backend, Blockchain cũng như DevOps, hi vọng thông qua việc chia sẻ kiến thức đến cộng đồng mình cũng sẽ nhận về các ý kiến đóng góp để cải thiện kỹ năng và nâng cao trình độ trong lĩnh vực chuyên môn, cũng như là các bài viết tâm sự chuyện nghề chuyện đời dưới góc nhìn cá nhân.

Làm việc để làm gì?

Khoảng thời gian cuối năm luôn là dịp thích hợp để mỗi người chúng ta nhìn lại công việc trong năm vừa rồi, từ đó để có các bước chuẩn bị phù hợp cho công việc trong năm mới. Đặc biệt là với các Developer, khi mà đây cũng thường là khoảng thời gian các công ty tổ chức đợt Review Performance. Và không chỉ nhân viên Fulltime, dù là bạn đang làm việc với vai trò Freelancer hay đã quản trị doanh nghiệp của riêng mình, có bao giờ chúng ta đã thực sự trả lời cho câu hỏi:

"Làm việc để làm gì?"

Thực sự, dù là sinh viên mới ra trường hay đã đi làm được đôi chục năm chúng ta hầu hết đều dành trung bình 12 năm học phổ thông, 4 năm đại học, có thể 2-3 năm cao học và suốt mấy chục năm sau đó không ngừng làm việc, học tập và nghiên cứu. Vậy có phải con người được lập trình sinh ra để theo một chu kỳ vòng lặp: ăn uống để sống, sống để học tập - làm việc và... làm việc để kiếm sống?

Như vậy, liệu thực sự chúng ta có đang sống hay chỉ đang tồn tại khi không thể xác định cho mình mục tiêu của việc đi làm, khi mà việc đi làm chiếm hầu như 2/3 thời gian trong suốt cuộc đời này?

Tới đây, mọi người hãy dừng lại suy ngẫm một chút và tự trả lời với bản thân mình. Vì mình tin rằng mỗi chúng ta đều có một mục tiêu, lý tưởng và lẽ sống cho riêng mình, và những giá trị ấy sẽ gắn liền với thế giới quan, kinh nghiệm cá nhân và tư duy nhìn nhận vấn đề của mỗi người chúng ta. Đến đây, nếu bạn vẫn chưa xác định và trả lời được câu hỏi này, mình xin nêu lên góc nhìn cá nhân và hi vọng có thể giúp bạn tự tìm cho mình câu trả lời chính xác đối với bản thân.

Đối với mình, mục tiêu của làm việc giúp mình đi tìm đích đến của sự hạnh phúc và mình sẽ có thể cảm nhận hạnh phúc trong suốt quá trình làm việc. Và thước đo của hạnh phúc trong công việc giúp mình có thể xác định gắn bó với một công việc nào đó, dựa vào việc thoả mãn tối thiểu 2/3 đỉnh nhu cầu trong bộ ba "tam giác bất khả thi" dưới đây.

Tam giác bất khả thi

Tam giác bất khả thi là một khái niệm đề cập đến 3 đỉnh yếu tố của một vấn đề mà ở đó chúng ta phải đánh đổi giữa các yếu tố để đạt được sự cân bằng, việc đáp ứng đồng thời cả 3 yếu tố dường như bất khả thi. Mô hình này chúng ta có thể bắt gặp trong kinh tế học hoặc ngay trong Blockchain cũng tồn tại một tam giác "bộ ba bất khả thi" (Tính mở rộng - Tính bảo mật - Tính phân tán) ngăn cản Blockchain trở nên khả thi và dễ sử dụng hơn trong các use-case thực tế. Nếu có hứng thú với khái niệm này trong Blockchain, mình xin phép sẽ gửi đến các bạn bài viết học thuật sẽ đi sâu vào kỹ thuật khi đề cập đến "Blockchain Layers and Scalability " trong các bài viết tiếp theo.

Quay lại bài viết hôm nay, mình xin giới thiệu đến các bạn bộ ba tam giác bất khả thi trong công việc bao gồm:

Salary - Position - Happy

1. Salary

Chắc chắn mục tiêu đầu tiên trong hầu hết chúng ta đặt ra cho việc đi làm là kiếm tiền. Và mình không phủ định tầm quan trọng của việc có nhiều tiền để có được một "điều kiện cần" cho việc mưu cầu hạnh phúc. Nhưng liệu thực sự tiền có là "một điều kiện đủ" để đảm bảo cho một cuộc sống hạnh phúc trọn vẹn? Và bao nhiêu tiền thì là đủ cho chúng ta có thể đạt được sự thoả mãn? Điều này phụ thuộc vào nhu cầu của mỗi người và đối với mình khi có đủ tiền để đáp ứng nhu cầu sống cơ bản (vật chất) và sở thích bản thân (tinh thần), có đủ điều kiện chăm lo cho người thân vả một khoản dự phòng đủ để sống mà không làm việc trong tối thiểu 6 tháng là đã thoả mãn riêng bản thân mình.

2. Position

Sau khi đạt được một điều kiện cơ bản vừa đủ để thoả mãn về tiền bạc rồi chúng ta sẽ có nhu cầu khẳng định và đi tìm vị thế của sự quan trọng của một cá thể đầu đàn - hay có thể gọi một cách hoa mỹ hơn trong xã hội loài người là địa vị xã hội, quyền lực. Và tất cả những mối bận tâm lo nghĩ đó đều quy về một khát khao bản ngã "tôi muốn được người khác chú ý, tôi muốn là người quan trọng, là trung tâm của vũ trụ này" và từ đây mọi vấn đề bắt đầu khởi sinh phiền muộn khi không đạt được như ý muốn - điều mà phụ thuộc hoàn toàn vào yếu tố ngoại cảnh, thứ mà ta không thể điều khiển theo ý muốn.

3. Happy

Riêng đối với bản thân mình đã chế ngự được phần nào cái khát khao để đi tìm một ví trí quan trọng nhận được nhiều sự chú ý. Mình đề cao sự hạnh phúc cho riêng bản thân trong công việc. Thứ mà chúng ta hoàn toàn có thể tự kiểm soát phần nào và dễ dàng đạt được sự thoả mãn hơn hết thẩy trong 3 yếu tố. Vậy thế nào là một công việc mang lại sự hạnh phúc ?

Đi sâu vào phân tích hạnh phúc trong công việc, mình sẽ tiếp cận theo 3 yếu tố sâu hơn bao gồm:

Môi trường làm việc

Career path

Công việc tạo ra giá trị

Là nơi mà bạn được tạo điều kiện để "tập trung" làm việc một cách đơn thuần, các mối quan hệ bình đẳng để thoải mái tranh luận và công bằng trong mối quan hệ "win-win" giữa sếp và nhân viên. Khi mà mối quan hệ "I win - you lose" dường như còn khá phổ biến ở thị trường VN hiện nay, một mối quan hệ có lợi trước mắt nhưng không mang tính lợi ích bền vững về lâu dài.

Đi trên một cuộc hành trình chúng ta đều cần biết và được định hình một con đường rõ ràng, để có thể đi đúng hướng nơi mà lợi ích riêng của cá nhân sẽ phải matching với lợi ích chung của tập thể.

Một công việc khiến bản thân mình trở nên có giá trị và có thể đóng góp những giá trị đó cho cộng đồng, cho xã hội. Khi mà một sản phẩm bạn làm ra có "nhiều người sử dụng" và bạn biết được những hành động của bạn thực sự có sự ảnh hưởng và tác động phần nào đó đến thế giới này dù nhỏ hay lớn.

Lời kết

Các nội dung truyền tải trong bài viết đều là góc nhìn cá nhân sau khi mình nghiệm ra trong suốt quá trình làm việc và không ngừng đi tìm câu trả lời cho mục đích để mình làm việc. Tất nhiên thế giới quan và góc nhìn mỗi người sẽ khác nhau, chúng ta sẽ phải tự đi tìm cho bản thân mình những giá trị mà bản thân tin tưởng là đúng đắn để có thể hành động và đạt được những mục tiêu của riêng mình. Hi vọng bài viết này sẽ cung cấp thêm cho các bạn một góc nhìn khác để giúp mọi người có thể tiếp cận một cách dễ dàng hơn trong việc tìm ra lý tưởng và mục tiêu riêng của mình để mang lại một công việc hạnh phúc dù là nhân viên fulltime, là quản lý hay tự là sếp của chính mình (freelancer) đều sẽ có sự lựa chọn đúng đắn cho hệ giá trị của bản thân.

Lời cuối cùng, mình xin chúc cho mọi người một ngày Giáng Sinh an lành, ấm áp và năm mới 2023 thuận lợi, bình an và hạnh phúc đặc biệt là công việc trong năm sắp tới dự kiến sẽ còn nhiều khó khăn và thử thách. Hẹn gặp lại mọi người trong các bài viết thú vị hơn trong tương lai.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR 2023

#thiking #carrer #happy #money

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greyias · 4 months

Note

29. The smell of burning wood

Pairing: Gale x Tav (pre-relationship) Words: ~3600 Notes: Mostly self-indulgent fluff, takes place the first night of the game

The sun had started its descent in the sky by the time they’d found a suitable site for a camp and scrounged enough supplies and crockery among the carnage around the Nautiloid’s crash site. This close to the campfire, the sweet, earthy smoke that wafted her way managed to block out the acrid scent of the smoldering wreckage of the strange, alien ship that had brought them here, or even the lingering sulfurous stench of Avernus that seemed to cling to their clothes.

The crackling fire burned bright, the snaps and pops of the dried wood in the flames a steady percussion, as if measuring the progress of the setting sun. If Aravyn closed her eyes, breathed in deep, she might almost pretend this was any normal night on the road. But every time she did so, that damned tadpole would squirm anew and shatter the illusion before it even really began. Stupid bugger, not even a day in and she was already ready to evict it purely on the grounds for being such an ungrateful little guest. All impending threats of ceremorphosis aside.

After the quiet, terse, yet surprisingly delicious meal their resident wizard had pulled together from their random assortment of fish and dried rations, most of their ragtag group had retreated to their own corners of camp. Instead of withdrawing into momentary fantasy, she eyed the dirtied, abandoned makeshift bowls and plates they’d found amongst the carnage, and the retreating forms of her fellow adventurers with a small frown.

Everyone seemed more intent on setting up their own tents for however long they’d be here — wherever here was. They all had a lot on—and in—their minds at the moment. Much more than daily chores.

Well, not quite everyone. Over by the now emptied cook pot, Gale seemed lost in thought, brow furrowed as he piled discarded fish bones and herb stems on a ragged cloth. He’d spent most of their time in camp preparing their evening meal, and had yet to set up his own area. Mind made up, she set about gathering the dirtied crockery and utensils, making just enough noise to rouse him from that deep contemplation.

“Allow me.” She indicated the bundle he was currently tying up. “You already worked enough magic transforming these rations into a feast. The least I can do is the dishes.”

That summoned the semblance of a smile, his lips quirking up ever so slightly as the frown smoothed away to a friendlier expression. “Oh, trust me, my arcane prowess extends to more impressive feats than conjuring flavor from our meager scrounging. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said lightly. “That meal was a sight more flavorful than any jerky soup I’ve cooked over a campfire.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what, pray tell, is ‘jerky soup’?”

“Well, it’s when you get a pot of water boiling, then throw in a mess of jerky. You can tear it up into pieces if you’re feeling ambitious. Then let soak until soft enough to not break your teeth.”

Gale looked positively horrified at the culinary abomination described. “Do you drink the—I hesitate to call it broth?”

“Of course! Waste not, want not.”

“That sounds like quite the… unique concoction.”

“You can say bad, it’s all right. I think it would violate my oath to inflict that particular delicacy on others.”

He pressed his lips together, either to repress a smile or perhaps in relief that his intestinal fortitude wouldn’t be challenged anytime soon. “It sounds like for the foreseeable future of our journey that I should maintain control of the cook pot.”

“I would not wish to give you more duties,” she hedged, “but perhaps that is wise for now. We probably shouldn't add gastrointestinal distress to the list of things we’re dealing with.”

“Grand adventures do rarely involve epic tales of food poisoning.”

“I wouldn’t say it was that bad — but point taken. Cooking has never really been in my repertoire. That’s probably not going to change much.”

“Come now, there’s always the chance to learn,” Gale insisted, “and I have been known to instruct a wayward student once or twice in my day.”

“Have you now?”

“Granted, my apprentices, if you would call them such, needed tutelage of the more arcane nature, but! I am not a man to who would hoard knowledge from a willing pupil.”

“If you’re offering to teach me how to cook,” she threaded a note of teasing into her tone, “I am not sure I would be a talented student—”

“Please, I won’t have you downplaying your own aptitude. You had enough creativity to invent a new genre of soup, regardless of how…” he paused, as if searching his broad vocabulary for the most polite way to phrase it, “—uh, palatable it wound up being. I bet if you used more than two ingredients, perhaps a vegetable, mixed in the concept of spices, then the flavor would expand exponentially.”

“I knew I forgot something.” That elicited a quiet snort. “That’s the kind of feedback that would be helpful in the future.”

“All that and more.”

“Well, in that case, I wouldn’t mind learning from a master.” She gave him a smile. “Especially if it would help ease the burden of cooking.”

“Ah, but is it a burden to feed others?” Gale tapped the side of his nose as he gave her a wink. “Or just good manners?”

“Speaking of good manners,” she deftly grabbed the bundle before he could protest, “as you cooked the meal, it is only appropriate for someone else to clean up.”

“Yes, I guess that is true,” he conceded. “And in truth, I do appreciate the assistance. This has been… well, rather more excitement than I’d prefer for one day.”

“Hard to argue with that.” The clatter of her trying to stack their eclectic assortment of makeshift crockery with the cookware and pot nearly drowned out her murmur of agreement. “Not every day starts with ilithid abductions, crashing nautiloids, with a side trip into hell.”

The stack of cookware tilted dangerously as she tried to arrange it in one hand and reach for the dirtied cookpot with the other, and Gale rushed forward to steady it. “Please, let us not compound the day’s adventure with another crash.”

“I’ve got it,” she insisted with good nature. “Just trying to save on trips.”

“I have already added enough work for you this evening,” he grabbed the dishes that were moments from taking a tumble, “let me offset that by at least helping with transport.”

“Very well,” she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to be accused of breaking Astarion’s new favorite plate.”

“Is it really, though? It’s not like he touched much of his meal earlier. Perhaps it wasn’t to his taste.” Gale added a few more dishes to his own stack for good measure, and gave a side eye to the way she easily hefted the heavy cooking pot to bear. “Are you sure you have that?”

“Oh, this? Yeah, it’s nothing. Really.”

“Are you sure? I nearly threw my back out when I was trying to adjust its position on the fire.”

“You just have to lift with your knees.”

“If you say so,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“My back?”

“No—I mean, it’s your back, you have every right to worry about that, don’t let me stop you—but I was talking about Astarion picking at his food. The meal was delicious. Maybe he just has a weak stomach. As you said, it has been a long and arduous day.”

“Hm, do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?”

“No,” Aravyn insisted, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Well, a lesser person might hold a little grudge for the way he pulled a knife on you.” There was a knowing look in the wizard’s eye that had her snorting out an annoyed breath, especially when he added, “You moved on from that with a surprising amount of grace.”

She tried not to wince at the memory of the knife pressed against her throat, its sharp edge slightly cooler than the one in Gale’s threat to incinerate the pale elf threatening her. “Well, he did eventually put the knife away.”

“Only after you nearly knocked out his teeth with that headbutt—a very nice move, by the way.” The smile she tried to dredge up at the intended compliment may have come out more of a grimace, but he forged on, voice dropping to more of a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s very strange, but I couldn’t help but notice how sharp his canines are. Do you think he files them down?”

“What? No—who would do that?”

“I don’t know… Bhaalists, cannibals, oh, maybe he’s part orc?”

“He doesn’t seem to have the physique for that particular bloodline.” Aravyn set the pot down as they reached the water’s edge, the babbling of the river’s current adding a serene soundtrack to their hushed conversation now they were further away from the hub of the camp. “And a Bhaalist would have just slit my throat.”

“So we’re agreed, then? Definitely a cannibal.”

She quickly turned to Gale, letting out a hushing noise as she grabbed for the set of plates he’d rescued from their ignoble end. “You’re horrible. Stop!”

The strength of her plea was weakened by her half-laugh and wide-eyed look she tossed back towards the subject of their conversation, who could barely be seen past the large outcropping of rocks lining the shore. Gale let out a quiet, almost satisfied chuckle as he delicately set the plates on her outstretched palms.

“And yet you indulge in my salacious speculation.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps it’s my charm.”

She shot him a wry, side-long glance as she knelt into the wet soil of the riverbank, spreading out the cookware and crockery to prepare for her task. “Might I remind you that you just accused one of our party of secretly wanting to eat us?”

Gale let out an affronted huff. “Are you impugning my character?”

“Maybe just a little.” She flashed a smile at him. “Although I should probably factor in that you were gentlemanly enough to help me haul my horde down here.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “This grading system of my character seems to have a lot of complexity to it. Is it a sliding scale?”

“Would you believe I invented it on the spot?”

“I might.”

“Well,” the brightness of her smile faded to something a little softer, “regardless, I think you have been gallant enough for the day. You’ve spent all your time in camp preparing us a fine meal and haven’t seen to your own tent. I’m sure you have plenty yet to unpack and arrange after the day’s chaos.”

Gale opened his mouth as if to continue a polite protest, then shut it again as he mulled over the statement. “I suppose you make a fair point. We need an area for research if we’re to be stranded here for any length of time, and my books! Well, what few I had on my person doesn’t hold a candle to my library back in Waterdeep, but still enough to fill a shelf or two. That I’ll need to construct somehow, come to think of it.”

“It seems like you have your hands full, then.” She made a shooing motion. “Go on, mine are busy with the dishes.”

As Gale turned to leave, an action she had very much been encouraging, there was just the smallest flicker of disappointment in her chest. Before he could take another step, or her mind could catch up with the compulsion, her hand shot out to catch his sleeve. She reeled the impulse back in just enough so that her fingers just brushed against the fabric, gaining a bit of a startled look back in her direction.

“Wait, I…” As he glanced down at her quizzically, she could feel her cheeks flushing and the tips of her ears burning, but she didn’t avert her gaze. “I just wanted to say. About earlier, when Astarion pulled the knife. You threatened to incinerate him.”

“Ah. Right. Not my finest moment.”

“No, no, what I mean to say is…” Gods, why was this so difficult? “Thank you. You hadn’t known me for even an hour, yet you still made an effort.”

“Well, it’s hardly the act of a gentleman to let some scallywag slit your throat, especially after you so valiantly rescued me from that malfunctioning portal.” The self-deprecating smile that twisted his lips now seemed more genuine than the practiced one that accompanied his more braggadocios statements. Like this was what came to him more naturally. “Not that my efforts amounted to much. You were obviously more than capable of handling the situation on your own.”

“That you tried means something.”

“I suppose that’s a refreshing change of pace,” he mused, almost to himself. At the quizzical tilt of her head, he seemed to remember himself and added. “Worry not. If things continue as they have, I’m sure there will be ample opportunity for me to be successful in returning the favor and save your life.” An awkward beat passed as he considered his words. “Not that I would wish more danger upon us, of course. But we do seem to attract… excitement.”

“Like moth to a flame,” she agreed quietly.

“Well,” Gale cleared his throat, clasping his arms behind his back, “I do have those books to organize. I suppose I shall leave you to it.”

At her nod, he quickly retreated towards the camp, and she let out a frustrated breath that threatened to become a sigh. Without even really thinking, she started to methodically work through the dishes and get them clean. Or as clean as they could get with the limited supplies they were working with. They needed some soap—and something rough enough to really scrub out this pot. For now, elbow grease would have to do. If she focused more on the rag in her hands, then there would be less of her mind to try to sort out her lingering disappointment.

She didn’t even know what she was disappointed about. If she thought about it at any length, bringing up the earlier incident was probably not very appropriate. She wasn’t even sure why'd done so, it was almost as if it had burst forth from her as if from its own accord. It had just made things awkward — and she hadn’t been trying to imply that Gale had failed in any way. She had just wanted… gods, she didn’t know that either.

The problem with losing oneself in a task was that each one had a finite end point. By the time she stacked the last dish inside the cook pot, the sun had shrunk behind the horizon, bleeding vivid hues across the sky in its wake. Absently she shook out the bundle of cooking scraps into the flowing water, watching them disappear into the deeper currents of the river.

They’d reached the end of the first day. Of seven if the more learned members of their ragtag group were to be believed. Seven days until the thing in their heads burst forth, ripping through their skin, burning up their souls and—

She shoved herself to her feet with an unnecessarily violent movement. No. No. She hadn’t finished with her task yet.

She carefully stacked the dishes inside of the large pot, taking time to inspect the structural integrity before hefting it to bear. She could count the steps back to the center of camp individually, rolling her feet so that the crockery didn’t clink too loudly on the trip, before setting it down in its appropriate spot near the campfire. Unfortunately, even if she dragged her feet, it only stretched out her distraction for another minute or so.

That was fine, everyone else was busy getting their own spaces prepared. She should do so as well. She'd already laid out her meager belongings in her little lean-to, but perhaps a little more organization wouldn’t hurt. The tenets of her oath had been placed carefully upon the bedroll that still needed to be unfurled for the night, and the slender neck of a lute peeked from behind where she’d stacked her armor, tabard, and shield for the evening.

The lute wasn’t hers. Not really. It had been years since her own had been sold off, and this one had been found it amongst the wreckage on the beach. An admittedly useless item for a pack of strangers focusing on survival. While a fairly light instrument, it was still unwise to haul around extra weight that served no real utility. And yet, she couldn’t just abandon it to rot in the sea air, its song forever silenced like the countless bodies littering the shore of the crash site.

She wasn’t actively aware that she had dropped to her knees until her fingers were tracing over the nicks and divots worn into the fretboard from countless years of fingertips pressing strings against it. A few lighter scratches showed newer use — perhaps a child taking lessons, inadvertently adding their own marks.

Or maybe that was just a bit of imagination, or perhaps projection, shining through, she told herself as she struggled to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat. Though in her mind’s eye it was all too easy to see small, chubby fingers being guided along the fretboard by larger, more experienced hands. Perhaps an older relative, or a tutor. Index finger and thumb working in tandem to pluck out familiar chords to a timeless tune.

Its bright notes would be the same, whether plucked out by a small child, or drifting out the open window of a tavern. Her teenage self would have never risked going into one. Even taking just a moment to pause and listen to the full length of a tune would cut into her overly filled schedule. And yet her fingers would keep their own time, drumming atop the large tomes of mathematics and elvish history she lugged between lessons across the Lower City.

Aravyn blinked, out of memory and half-imaginings, back into her dirty, bloody reality on the banks of the Chionthar. There were no tavern musicians or traveling bards with a merry tune to chase away the dark thoughts looming at the edges — just her and the lute that somehow was already cradled into a familiar position. The fading light of the sun seemed to glimmer along the strings, and her thumb was already in motion, plucking the first string, her index finger moving on muscle memory as it picked a corresponding note that sung a crisp, familiar note.

It was brief, but just encouragement enough that her fingertips continued to dance a familiar refrain, weaving a familiar song. She could hear the cheerful tune in her head, but as her fingers continued to work the strings, the notes didn’t match. Discordant and jarring, the thin threads of music tangled together, crashing into an unrecognizable and inharmonious cacophony.

“If that racket does not stop right now,” the voice of an angry githyanki hanging on to their last thread of patience cut through the camp, “I will end both it and whoever is responsible!”

Her fingers felt as heavy and uncoordinated as those sour sounds, and the lute was quickly lowered back to her lap. Of course, some random instrument found in the carnage of the nautiloid’s crash wouldn’t function properly. Only a silly fool would think not only that but also that it would somehow lighten the heavy mood in their camp.

A familiar paternal voice in the back of her mind chastised her for chasing her own comfort and wasting time on such frivolous things, especially when there were far more important matters to tend to. And their impending ceremorphosis certainly wouldn’t be cured even if she could coax a festive song from the lute’s untuned strings.

“It’s time to put away childish things, Aravyn,” that echo from the past reminded her, the reprimand carrying the weight of a lifetime of failed expectations. She exhaled sharply to shake off the familiar, stifling sensation. If there was no time to indulge in frivolities, then there was also no time to indulge in self-pity, either.

Even though her cheeks burned at the thought of the entire camp hearing that wretched sound, Aravyn couldn’t find it in herself to take her frustrations out on the lute. She instead forced herself to glance up. The fading sunlight cast a warm glow over her new companions, all of whom were engrossed in the rhythm of their own tasks. Even renowned musical critic Lae’zel had waited long enough to ensure the return of silence, before resuming the construction on a training dummy that was beginning to resemble a Mindflayer. Had she spent the entire afternoon attaching tentacles to the thing?

She shook her head. What did that matter?

Regardless, if Aravyn’s faux pas wasn’t enough to warrant anything more than a grumbled threat, perhaps she shouldn’t linger on it too long. With one last lingering glance at the lute, she carefully set it away, far, far to the back of her tent. Out of reach, and out of temptation’s range. Her focus right now needed to be on what tune tomorrow’s winds might carry. She gave a wry smile at the thought, hoping a new dawn might bring a little more harmony than today’s chaos.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #gale x tav #(pre-relationship)#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #oc: aravyn #greyfic #in which ari and gale gossip like a bunch of real housewives #and i try to faithfully recreate her embarrassing musical debut #that the game has now patched out of existence :(#now kel #i know you didn't submit this prompt nearly two years ago #thiking you'd wind up with 3600 rambling words of bg3 fic #and yet... here we are

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