Lydia is amenable to an early meeting during her low-point, that might of helped her realize the renewed zest for life that she currently enjoys, so it fits nicely into her history. I would prefer that it not be a one-time, if protracted association; perhaps a deeper friendship that renews on a somewhat regular basis?
That sounds fantastic!
Let me imagine how it happened. She walks into a tavern in a port one day. In the dingy smog from pipes and the fireplace, among the rakes and cutpurses, what catches her attention is the barmaid with eyes that are sad, so sad. Something in those eyes holds her gaze, makes her wonder what could make them so empty of passion and life and joy, a question that distracts her just long enough to walk right into a tavern wench and the dozen tankards of ale she balances on both arms.
She comes back the next day, and the next, finding excuses to talk. And at first she just listens, saying very little. When she does speak it is mostly to ask questions. Lydia, she eventually learns the young woman's name is.
Perhaps she gets asked questions in return. Who are you? I'm a friend of the best goddess ever, she cheekily says. Why do you ask so many questions? I want to know more about you, she innocently says. Why are you such a busybody? Because you look so sad, she blurts out.
She does not ask what happened. Lydia will tell her in good time, if she earns the right to know.
What she does do is try to help the young woman out of her shell. She tells her about the few adventures she's had and the things she's seen, shares the epic poems and songs she heard during her days at the temple. She tries to drag her along to watch the performance of a troupe passing through town on its way across the sea, to go exploring the port city and its many districts. She does so not out of any great wisdom or life experience, for she is too young to have much of either, just a simple faith that there can be joy again after loss, and wildflowers will bloom after the fire, and embracing life does not dishonor the dead.
There's the time when both of them were cornered in an alley by half a dozen thugs looking for easy prey, and staggered out bloodied but alive, fighting back-to-back. There's the time they spent an afternoon exploring the old merchant's quarter and its warren of tiny shops filled with curious wonders from all over the world. She argued heatedly with Lydia over her new boyfriend, and was there to mourn him with her when he was hanged.
Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. And finally there comes a day when she stands at the pier with Lydia, going off on an adventure together. There are no words for how happy she is. It is not the happiness of a job well done, because Lydia did all the the really hard work. It is just the simple joy of seeing a friend you care for living, truly alive, passion and fire in her eyes.
They would part ways from time to time, as the winds of fortune carried them this way and that, but they were always reunited in the end. And when that happened, once again, in the dingy smog from pipes and the fireplace, among the rakes and cutpurses, they would sit together at a table in the amber lantern light. Tell me all about your adventures, she would say with excitement glittering in her eyes, and she would listen, long into the night.
OK, so I got carried away there. Maybe none of that happened. But it's fun to think about how it might have played out. I see Yvaine looking up to the new Lydia in a big sisterly kind of way, since Lydia's the older, wiser, badass one.
By the way, this is the letter that will draw you into the game:
Sounds great! That should get Yvaine to come running.