Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
I've received two more letters today. Thank Jena they were good news, and not like the letter from Gyles. I'm not certain my heart could have handled another similar missive.
The first is from my younger sister Emaelle. While we've had our sibling spats, I'm unsure how I feel about her leaving the relative safety of our home to venture to Silan, and then perhaps beyond. Obviously, I worry for her. She's written that there is a man in the settlement telling the younger generation about Silan and the hope it holds still for the Matis people.
Her letter is all the more amusing because of the second I received; From Enon. He is the man of whom my sister speaks, I have no doubt.
He is doing well, and anxious to come home. Home. I don't know that I've thought that of anywhere for a long time. Maybe I almost called the island in Shining Lake 'home' inside, but not really. This camp? It certainly is a little bit of home. "Home is where your heart resides," my father would tell me. A little piece of me will always reside in Silan and the spirit of cooperation here.
This line of thought only revives my fears of journeying to the mainland. What a vastly different place it must be. I will soon set the date for my departure from Silan. Ready or not I feel the time is fast approaching. The many voices are right; I cannot stay here forever.
Two more seasons and Enon should be done with his task. I suppose he's lucky he's missing this soggy winter. Far more rain than last winter.
I will have my response letters sent in the morning.
Jeziellia leaned forward, peering out the tent flap. She was renting her usual tent in the Tryker encampment, and though the rain was starting to fall again, a few men sat around the campfire sharing jokes and food. She smiled, sitting back. She took her sister's note and folded it, tucking it into her journal. She did likewise with Enon's letter.
Once the journal was put away, she leaned to the side, allowing herself to fall heavily upon the pillows. She pulled the blanket up over herself and closed her eyes. The soft darkness of sleep enfolded her.
Letter from Emaelle Mara'tyr;
My Dear Sister,
This letter will find you, I trust, and on time, I hope. I am writing from home, but not for long. There has come a Matis man to the settlement, speaking of a ruined Matis city known as Silan; an island apart from the mainland world where the kingdom of our people has finally settled. He tells such wonderful tales! As soon as Mother allows, I will make the journey to Silan myself, just as you did.
Are you still in Silan or are you reading my letter beneath the boughs of the great forest of Yrkanis? For as long as you have been gone, shouldn't you be one of the finest whatevers in the kingdom by now? I jest, Sister, but I know your ambitions. I hope you have sated at least a few of them.
If you yet remain in Silan, perhaps we will see each other again. If you are not, I will - as I always have - catch up to you eventually.
With Sisterly Love,
Ema
Letter from Enon:
Jeziellia,
I hope this letter finds you in a better state than when I left. It was not long before I heard of your collapse, and sought out Sterg in hopes that he would have more information about what had happened. Thankfully, Sterg was able to tell me that you were being well taken care of, even if he was unsure what had caused it. He explained that you were in the capable hands of Jena, by means of a Tryker guardian and attendant. *grins* It would just have be a Tryker, wouldn't it?
Regardless of any persuasive attempts, I was unable to convince Sterg that I should be allowed to see you, even if for only a moment, before I left. I understand that you were unconscious when I left, however, confirming that you were on the path of recovery would have eased my mind. Instead, he did offer to make sure that you would receive any correspondence I sent along with a refugee on their way to the island.
Furthermore, Sterg was adamant that I continue on my journey to complete his task, and that he would be most unpleasant should I try to postpone this trip. I tried to convince him that a few days would not make a difference; just long enough to make sure that your recovery went smoothly. Instead, I met his most unpleasant side, as he quickly grew impatient with any dialogue I tried to continue with him on that subject. Somehow he managed to twist the world into a knot until staying on the island for your recovery would be demonstrating a lack of faith in Jena... I vehemently disagreed with him, but unfortunately he is well versed in a sly sort of rhetoric that subsumed my own rather effortlessly.
I imagine that Silan is being positively spoiled under your care. I have been talking about you and what you have done for the island to those here who are considering making the journey. I think Sterg was wise to send me, or at least someone, back here to talk in greater detail about Silan. It seems that these stories of you, and the stories of the guidance and care that you offer to refugees new to the island, has spurred on many of those here who were previously unsure of themselves to make the journey. I could not say if more were inspired by the descriptions of some of the views that we shared of the island, or enthralled with the idea of sharing such sights with the Matis woman who has tamed Silan.
My thoughts are constantly centered on you, and my desire to return to Silan is readily apparent to more than a few here. I suppose that this longing may be misinterpreted as one for Silan, which may be more beneficial to my purpose here anyhow.
Sterg has also extended the offer to have any correspondence that is left for me on Silan to be sent over here when the possibility arises. I hope that you find a moment to write a letter and let me know how you are faring back home. Have you taken over the island marketplace yet? *grins*. I imagine the itch for the mainland may be getting to you, despite the fears that we expressed to one another. Tell me, have you made any plans for your journey as of yet?
I also want to tell you that I miss you, and that you have taught me the difference between what makes someone friendly, and what makes them a friend. I look forward to my return, not to the island, but to see you. I enjoy the time that we spend together, even when we are just getting our hands dirty digging in the ground by the crays on your island. The time that is between now and when I will journey back to the island seems to stretch on into eternity... I wonder if everything else will seem markedly changed by the time I return. I also wonder how you may have changed by the time I return. I hope that you find the time to write me while I am here, and let me know what is going on in your life.
In your honor,
Enon
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Moderators: The Soothsayer, Lanist, Xaphon Zessen
A letter to Jez...
Rolling over the warm dry mats of his pallet, Chelan reaches for pen and paper.
Dear Teacher and Friend,
I was a few days ago this winter simply wondering where you had gotten to. Since then I have been stricken. Unsure as to what the cause is I have allowed the Kami to see after me. I trust neither the Karavan with their not so subtle attempts to *use* the Goo, nor the Zorai with their predilection for slavery.
It must have been the sudden change from our safe hiding places to the ruins here. Adjusting to the seasons has never been easy for this little Tryker, but I am recovering, if slowly.
The main reason I am writing is because I am wondering if you have made it to the MainLand and if so simply to know whether you fare well or not. I know that the fate of the races now on Atys is to be divided, but knowing that you are doing well with your crafting friends would do my heart good as winter hopefully turns to spring outside my tent. And with that knowledge I would leave you in peace, though I will miss your wise counsel and interesting conversation.
Sincerely
Chelan Farsight
Dear Teacher and Friend,
I was a few days ago this winter simply wondering where you had gotten to. Since then I have been stricken. Unsure as to what the cause is I have allowed the Kami to see after me. I trust neither the Karavan with their not so subtle attempts to *use* the Goo, nor the Zorai with their predilection for slavery.
It must have been the sudden change from our safe hiding places to the ruins here. Adjusting to the seasons has never been easy for this little Tryker, but I am recovering, if slowly.
The main reason I am writing is because I am wondering if you have made it to the MainLand and if so simply to know whether you fare well or not. I know that the fate of the races now on Atys is to be divided, but knowing that you are doing well with your crafting friends would do my heart good as winter hopefully turns to spring outside my tent. And with that knowledge I would leave you in peace, though I will miss your wise counsel and interesting conversation.
Sincerely
Chelan Farsight
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
Enon's been sneaking around camp. He's going to get himself, possibly the both of us, in trouble! I've already had to intercept my Tyker guardian to keep him from seeing Enon enjoying leisure time back here in the camp.
In a way I think Sterga knows. That's got to be why he's keeping me here so much lately. He's rescinded his grant of leave to me, and insists that it is in my best interests that I remain under a watchful eye for a few more days. In fact, he intends on sending me to my parents' home back in the old haven for a short time.
"It'll do you good to remember the propriety of family, and an eldest daughter's place," he says. What is that supposed to mean? Though, now that Emaelle is here, my mother is likely at her wits' end. Emaelle has always been her "baby", as the youngest. In a way, I agree with Sterga - I do owe my mother a visit.
More letters! Chelan has written me. I suppose my being sequestered here in the Matis encampment has been noticed, in my absence about the island in general. I will have to write back to him.
Maybe Enon has some kind of strange point about me and Trykers. Most of my friends do seem to be Tryker males. How interesting.
I will put off my journey to Yrkanis on the mainland until after I've visited with my mother. That will allow me to leave home and check on Emaelle on my way. Until then, I will try to learn what else I can here.
And try to keep Emaelle out of trouble.
Jeziellia closed her journal.
"Done writing insults about me in there?" her guardian winked at her with a grin from his station by the door. While she was awake and working, he stood indoors. When she was resting or required privacy otherwise, he stood outside.
Jeziellia smiled. "Yes." She put the journal away, but kept her quill in hand, taking a sheet of parchment from a stack on the desk.
"Dear Chelan,
I am yet on the shores of Silan. I have matters that keep me isolated, largely a concern for my health by Sterga. Insufferable as he may be at times, he seems to have more concern for the Homins here than he cares to admit. I am fine, however he is harder to convince of it.
Many of my Tryker friends find the winter season nearly unbearable. May I recommend weathering the seasons at Shining Lake? The warm spring from the jungle and the cold of the seaon mingle into something somewhat more bearable, and not as stifling as the air of the jungles.
I have plans, once I travel to Yrkanis, to visit the Lakelands. Even when I do depart, or when you do, I am certain we shall meet again. Jena willing, of course.
Hoping you feel better,
Jeziellia Mara'tyr"
Enon's been sneaking around camp. He's going to get himself, possibly the both of us, in trouble! I've already had to intercept my Tyker guardian to keep him from seeing Enon enjoying leisure time back here in the camp.
In a way I think Sterga knows. That's got to be why he's keeping me here so much lately. He's rescinded his grant of leave to me, and insists that it is in my best interests that I remain under a watchful eye for a few more days. In fact, he intends on sending me to my parents' home back in the old haven for a short time.
"It'll do you good to remember the propriety of family, and an eldest daughter's place," he says. What is that supposed to mean? Though, now that Emaelle is here, my mother is likely at her wits' end. Emaelle has always been her "baby", as the youngest. In a way, I agree with Sterga - I do owe my mother a visit.
More letters! Chelan has written me. I suppose my being sequestered here in the Matis encampment has been noticed, in my absence about the island in general. I will have to write back to him.
Maybe Enon has some kind of strange point about me and Trykers. Most of my friends do seem to be Tryker males. How interesting.
I will put off my journey to Yrkanis on the mainland until after I've visited with my mother. That will allow me to leave home and check on Emaelle on my way. Until then, I will try to learn what else I can here.
And try to keep Emaelle out of trouble.
Jeziellia closed her journal.
"Done writing insults about me in there?" her guardian winked at her with a grin from his station by the door. While she was awake and working, he stood indoors. When she was resting or required privacy otherwise, he stood outside.
Jeziellia smiled. "Yes." She put the journal away, but kept her quill in hand, taking a sheet of parchment from a stack on the desk.
"Dear Chelan,
I am yet on the shores of Silan. I have matters that keep me isolated, largely a concern for my health by Sterga. Insufferable as he may be at times, he seems to have more concern for the Homins here than he cares to admit. I am fine, however he is harder to convince of it.
Many of my Tryker friends find the winter season nearly unbearable. May I recommend weathering the seasons at Shining Lake? The warm spring from the jungle and the cold of the seaon mingle into something somewhat more bearable, and not as stifling as the air of the jungles.
I have plans, once I travel to Yrkanis, to visit the Lakelands. Even when I do depart, or when you do, I am certain we shall meet again. Jena willing, of course.
Hoping you feel better,
Jeziellia Mara'tyr"
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
The camp is a-buzz with news that the Lady of Loria and his Majesty Yrkanis will be visiting the Ranger camp. They want to assure that the refugee camp is being run the way it should, I'm sure. I'm nervous. I could get to meet the King! I've read enough about him, but I didn't imagine I'd ever actually meet his Majesty! I can't imagine Sterga will keep me indoors for this!
I'm too excited to write. I need to get to work. I have to have something clean and presentable to wear, just in case. What I have on is stained and worn threadbare at best.
Emaelle has adatped to life here rather quickly. I suspected she would. I may just leave my node map to her when I go.
Jeziellia tucked her journal away and hurried out of the tent. She had many things to gather and not as much time to do it in.
The camp is a-buzz with news that the Lady of Loria and his Majesty Yrkanis will be visiting the Ranger camp. They want to assure that the refugee camp is being run the way it should, I'm sure. I'm nervous. I could get to meet the King! I've read enough about him, but I didn't imagine I'd ever actually meet his Majesty! I can't imagine Sterga will keep me indoors for this!
I'm too excited to write. I need to get to work. I have to have something clean and presentable to wear, just in case. What I have on is stained and worn threadbare at best.
Emaelle has adatped to life here rather quickly. I suspected she would. I may just leave my node map to her when I go.
Jeziellia tucked her journal away and hurried out of the tent. She had many things to gather and not as much time to do it in.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Matis encampment in the Ranger camp, near fallen Silan
I didn't think anything could overshadow the whirlwind that was my mind after meeting the King. I was wrong. Not thinking seems to be my problem. Emaelle would disagree, but it's been easier for her - living a life free of consequence, and never having to prove herself, to earn our parents' approval and love.
King Yrkanis and Lady Governor Ailan Mac'Kean came to the Ranger camp last evening, along with an entourage of guards, and others of the Tryker government. I know one amongst the group was the Deputy Governor, but my gift for remembering names fails me.
I was very excited to meet the King. To be fair, though, it isn't as though we really met. I saw the King. I walked along with him (imagine that! Mother would never believe I walked anywhere near His Majesty) through part of the camp, an helped to guide the way to the ruins of Silan. It doesn't make me special though. Throngs of Homins followed in his wake.
I thought I was going to die when I bumped into him. I was walking, I thought, at his side, but scanning the woodline. Others were watching for gingos and javings, but I was looking, I think, for something far more sinister. Perhaps I was just being paranoid. But then he came to a stop! I didn't notice and well... It was the lightest bump. He probably didn't notice through the armor he wore. I hurried to distance myself. I didn't want to give his guardians any reason to use the pikes they carried.
I certainly didn't need to give them any other excuses, if they took the Tryker Toushirou seriously when he implied I would use the weaned yelk in an attempt on the King's life. How anyone could dream of such a thing, I don't know.
I felt like a wide-eyed school girl in His Majesty's presence, but thank Jena I managed to remember everything I'd learned about being a proper Matis Lady, and I kept my head about me.
Funny then, that I can lose it so easily around someone else.
Emaelle would taunt me relentlessly if I dared to give her the real reason I came back to the tent in tears. I told her, instead that I'd lost a hefty amount of kirosta materials in a freak crafting incident. She was sharing a bottle of Tryker rum with my guardian. She accepted my excuse readily enough. My guardian gave me an odd, almost guilty glance.
When I left the settlement where our home has been for so long, I promised myself that I'd remain closed, keep to myself. That I would never make foolish assumptions, or put myself in a position to be played for the fool again. I've done it so quickly. Am I cursed? Why is it that I cannot seem to know my own heart, or that when I think I do, the hearts of others so easily hide?
I never meant to hurt him, but I think by simply being, I do exactly that. I don't want to hide behind these walls of propriety and the cool aloofness we all learn so young. I watch the Tryker - they are so free, as if they understand what a gift life is, what a joy each day can be. Yet all I know is to hold back, to bite my tongue, to bear it all with a lifted chin and firmly squared shoulders and dignity. Pride, too.
But he hides. Who am I to deny him that?
Jeziellia closed her journal, sliding it beneath her pillow. A nod to her guardian and he stood, ushering her giggling sister outside. Sterga would be in to check on her in a few minutes, especially now that the King had come and gone. He'd be on edge for a couple of days, Jeziellia was certain. She laid her armor on the bench at the foot of her bed and pulled the light fiber nightgown over her head. She was just pulling back the blankets when Sterga cleared his throat outside the tent entry.
"Come."
"Miss Mara'tyr, I think -" Sterga stopped short, his eye critical. "Your eyes are particularly bright tonight."
Jeziellia turned away to occupy herself with straightening her already straightened pillow. "That is not what you were going to say, sire."
"No, but the exceptional redness does make them stand out. And the puffy eyes of one who's been crying do not become a Matis lady." He spoke with the offhand tone he used when lecturing the younger Homins on their stitching techniques.
"I lost some very fine materials in an inci-"
"No you didn't."
Jeziellia turned to face the leader of the Matis encampment, indignation and embarrassment at having been caught in a lie coloring her cheeks.
Sterga waved a dismissive hand. "I think that you should be well enough to make the journey to the haven in a few days' time. I only came by to let you know that." He turned to go, but paused at the opening. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "I know. And you must learn this is simply the way that it is." He disappeared as the tent flap fell shut behind him.
Jeziellia stood there, staring at the flap for a few moments more, before throwing herself onto the small bed and burying her face into the pillow, muffling her sobs. Nothing was quite as terrible to a young Matis woman as being confused when all their upbringing taught them to always be in control of themselves.
I didn't think anything could overshadow the whirlwind that was my mind after meeting the King. I was wrong. Not thinking seems to be my problem. Emaelle would disagree, but it's been easier for her - living a life free of consequence, and never having to prove herself, to earn our parents' approval and love.
King Yrkanis and Lady Governor Ailan Mac'Kean came to the Ranger camp last evening, along with an entourage of guards, and others of the Tryker government. I know one amongst the group was the Deputy Governor, but my gift for remembering names fails me.
I was very excited to meet the King. To be fair, though, it isn't as though we really met. I saw the King. I walked along with him (imagine that! Mother would never believe I walked anywhere near His Majesty) through part of the camp, an helped to guide the way to the ruins of Silan. It doesn't make me special though. Throngs of Homins followed in his wake.
I thought I was going to die when I bumped into him. I was walking, I thought, at his side, but scanning the woodline. Others were watching for gingos and javings, but I was looking, I think, for something far more sinister. Perhaps I was just being paranoid. But then he came to a stop! I didn't notice and well... It was the lightest bump. He probably didn't notice through the armor he wore. I hurried to distance myself. I didn't want to give his guardians any reason to use the pikes they carried.
I certainly didn't need to give them any other excuses, if they took the Tryker Toushirou seriously when he implied I would use the weaned yelk in an attempt on the King's life. How anyone could dream of such a thing, I don't know.
I felt like a wide-eyed school girl in His Majesty's presence, but thank Jena I managed to remember everything I'd learned about being a proper Matis Lady, and I kept my head about me.
Funny then, that I can lose it so easily around someone else.
Emaelle would taunt me relentlessly if I dared to give her the real reason I came back to the tent in tears. I told her, instead that I'd lost a hefty amount of kirosta materials in a freak crafting incident. She was sharing a bottle of Tryker rum with my guardian. She accepted my excuse readily enough. My guardian gave me an odd, almost guilty glance.
When I left the settlement where our home has been for so long, I promised myself that I'd remain closed, keep to myself. That I would never make foolish assumptions, or put myself in a position to be played for the fool again. I've done it so quickly. Am I cursed? Why is it that I cannot seem to know my own heart, or that when I think I do, the hearts of others so easily hide?
I never meant to hurt him, but I think by simply being, I do exactly that. I don't want to hide behind these walls of propriety and the cool aloofness we all learn so young. I watch the Tryker - they are so free, as if they understand what a gift life is, what a joy each day can be. Yet all I know is to hold back, to bite my tongue, to bear it all with a lifted chin and firmly squared shoulders and dignity. Pride, too.
But he hides. Who am I to deny him that?
Jeziellia closed her journal, sliding it beneath her pillow. A nod to her guardian and he stood, ushering her giggling sister outside. Sterga would be in to check on her in a few minutes, especially now that the King had come and gone. He'd be on edge for a couple of days, Jeziellia was certain. She laid her armor on the bench at the foot of her bed and pulled the light fiber nightgown over her head. She was just pulling back the blankets when Sterga cleared his throat outside the tent entry.
"Come."
"Miss Mara'tyr, I think -" Sterga stopped short, his eye critical. "Your eyes are particularly bright tonight."
Jeziellia turned away to occupy herself with straightening her already straightened pillow. "That is not what you were going to say, sire."
"No, but the exceptional redness does make them stand out. And the puffy eyes of one who's been crying do not become a Matis lady." He spoke with the offhand tone he used when lecturing the younger Homins on their stitching techniques.
"I lost some very fine materials in an inci-"
"No you didn't."
Jeziellia turned to face the leader of the Matis encampment, indignation and embarrassment at having been caught in a lie coloring her cheeks.
Sterga waved a dismissive hand. "I think that you should be well enough to make the journey to the haven in a few days' time. I only came by to let you know that." He turned to go, but paused at the opening. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "I know. And you must learn this is simply the way that it is." He disappeared as the tent flap fell shut behind him.
Jeziellia stood there, staring at the flap for a few moments more, before throwing herself onto the small bed and burying her face into the pillow, muffling her sobs. Nothing was quite as terrible to a young Matis woman as being confused when all their upbringing taught them to always be in control of themselves.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
The Spire, near fallen Silan
Her journal was not in her bag. Jeziellia looked around; perhaps a yubo had been through her pack while she slept. Everything seemed untouched. Enon was still asleep. Quietly she stood up and took a look around the ledge. No sign of a yubo or anything else having disturbed their camp.
...she must've left it under her pillow in her tent in the Matis encampment! Snatching up her pack, Jeziellia hurried down the Spire and sprinted toward the camp. Emaelle wouldn't...
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
"Geez Jezi, it's not that big of a deal!"
"I've told you a hundred times -"
"Yeah, I know. Stay outta your stuff. So, where were you last night?"
Jeziellia frowned, but focused on the work in front of her. She was stitching a pocket into the inner layer of her long skirt. "The Spire."
"With him?" Emaelle grinned, propping her feet up on the nearby table.
"We had things to talk about."
"Right, talk. You know, if I was you, Jezi -"
"Thank Jena you aren't." Her thread broke when she pulled too hard.
"- I'd have pulled him off for a romp already."
Jeziellia stabbed herself in the finger with the needle and cursed. "What?"
"What what? You heard me. He's a pretty good looking man, don't you think? Uh huh, thought so. It isn't like you gotta marry him or anything Jezi. Just live a little!"
"I'm quite content with how I'm living my life, thank you."
"Oh yeah, that's exactly what your journal says."
"You can leave."
"Dismissing me now?" Emaelle laughed, taking her feet off the table. "Sure thing, my Lady. Just think about what I said."
Jeziellia didn't say anything, frowning down at her stitching. Emaelle left the tent laughing. The two sisters were as different as night and day, and both seemed to envy the other something. Jeziellia thought Emaelle was too reckless - Emaelle thought Jeziellia was too careful, but each wanted a little of what the other had.
I can't believe my sister would invade my privacy like that and then laugh at me. No, I suppose I can believe it. She's spoiled absolutely rotten. I hope this place teaches her a few things and she can grow up a little.
And Enon? Maybe Emaelle is right, but not in the way she thinks. Some things are complications, and I've already let this get more complicated than I'm prepared to deal with, despite claims to the contrary.
It's fortunate then, that my trip home is so soon. It will give me time to clear my head. Tonight I'll pack my things, and tomorrow I'll be on my way.
Learn to leave well enough alone.
Her journal was not in her bag. Jeziellia looked around; perhaps a yubo had been through her pack while she slept. Everything seemed untouched. Enon was still asleep. Quietly she stood up and took a look around the ledge. No sign of a yubo or anything else having disturbed their camp.
...she must've left it under her pillow in her tent in the Matis encampment! Snatching up her pack, Jeziellia hurried down the Spire and sprinted toward the camp. Emaelle wouldn't...
* * * * * * *
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
"Geez Jezi, it's not that big of a deal!"
"I've told you a hundred times -"
"Yeah, I know. Stay outta your stuff. So, where were you last night?"
Jeziellia frowned, but focused on the work in front of her. She was stitching a pocket into the inner layer of her long skirt. "The Spire."
"With him?" Emaelle grinned, propping her feet up on the nearby table.
"We had things to talk about."
"Right, talk. You know, if I was you, Jezi -"
"Thank Jena you aren't." Her thread broke when she pulled too hard.
"- I'd have pulled him off for a romp already."
Jeziellia stabbed herself in the finger with the needle and cursed. "What?"
"What what? You heard me. He's a pretty good looking man, don't you think? Uh huh, thought so. It isn't like you gotta marry him or anything Jezi. Just live a little!"
"I'm quite content with how I'm living my life, thank you."
"Oh yeah, that's exactly what your journal says."
"You can leave."
"Dismissing me now?" Emaelle laughed, taking her feet off the table. "Sure thing, my Lady. Just think about what I said."
Jeziellia didn't say anything, frowning down at her stitching. Emaelle left the tent laughing. The two sisters were as different as night and day, and both seemed to envy the other something. Jeziellia thought Emaelle was too reckless - Emaelle thought Jeziellia was too careful, but each wanted a little of what the other had.
I can't believe my sister would invade my privacy like that and then laugh at me. No, I suppose I can believe it. She's spoiled absolutely rotten. I hope this place teaches her a few things and she can grow up a little.
And Enon? Maybe Emaelle is right, but not in the way she thinks. Some things are complications, and I've already let this get more complicated than I'm prepared to deal with, despite claims to the contrary.
It's fortunate then, that my trip home is so soon. It will give me time to clear my head. Tonight I'll pack my things, and tomorrow I'll be on my way.
Learn to leave well enough alone.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Mara'tyr "Estate"
I finally made it home, after a very delayed journey. Not too long after leaving Silan and setting out on solid ground again, we were beset by a terrible storm and lost all but one of our Mektoubs. The packers always have seemed more docile than the ones aclimatized for riding.
Mother misses Emaelle, and I think resents that I'm even here. Father is glad to see me at least. My other siblings may not have even noticed, for all I can tell. I always have been a little on the outskirts of what the family has expected of me.
Nevertheless, there are some things here I can help with for a few more days, and I will. So far away, it is hard to imagine what it will be like when I return to the island and can begin my journey to Yrkanis.
Jeziellia looked up from her writing. A light breeze was blowing through the trees, and it teased the hem of her skirt. She smiled, letting her legs dangle from the branch upon which she was sitting. Soon enough it would be time to go inside and make dinner.
I finally made it home, after a very delayed journey. Not too long after leaving Silan and setting out on solid ground again, we were beset by a terrible storm and lost all but one of our Mektoubs. The packers always have seemed more docile than the ones aclimatized for riding.
Mother misses Emaelle, and I think resents that I'm even here. Father is glad to see me at least. My other siblings may not have even noticed, for all I can tell. I always have been a little on the outskirts of what the family has expected of me.
Nevertheless, there are some things here I can help with for a few more days, and I will. So far away, it is hard to imagine what it will be like when I return to the island and can begin my journey to Yrkanis.
Jeziellia looked up from her writing. A light breeze was blowing through the trees, and it teased the hem of her skirt. She smiled, letting her legs dangle from the branch upon which she was sitting. Soon enough it would be time to go inside and make dinner.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Village of Natae, Majestic Gardens of Verdant Heights
It's been some time since I've taken a moment to sit and write. It's been some time since I have had more than a moment alone with my own thoughts. Yrkanis is bustling. Guards, merchants, people coming and going. It isn't the same as the Ranger camp, though. It feels impersonal. A sprawl of people all set on their own goals. I have had so many offers of help, though, that I'm almost at my wit's end with them.
I'm not ungrateful. It is more of a case that I do not know what to do with all the help being laid before me. Maybe it's ironic. Maybe not.
I've seen things that if I tried to commit them to words, I'd sound as far from sane as I ever have. Therefore, I'll decline from attempting to write of them, the same as I've declined to speak of them. Jelathnia introduced me to a High Officer of the Order, Souvec, and the two of them took me on quite a trip. We reached the Karavan outpost near the Upper Bog, and then they showed me a beautiful grotto in the Trove, of the Fleeting Gardens. It was truly stunning.
I'm glad Enon made the journey here to the mainland with me. I'm also glad his friend Kas made the trip. For all the help, I think I'd be lonely with out them. Even if we are often at opposite ends of the city from one another most of the time.
Enon and Kas have run off to do something "for the boys" tonight. I went out to find some ammunition casing materials for Enon. Looking at this pile, however, I may use them myself and simply tell him where he can find more. Then, of course, help him gather some for himself.
The two of us gathered resources at a place called Towerbridge Way. It was interesting, but frustrating. I'm the small fish again. All the skills and abilities that made me so useful in Silan are nothing here. Enon has tried to be supporting, but well. Even he far outstrips me. I cannot even pull most of the nodes we find to the surface. It's very frustrating.
I will keep it to myself though. I know that I need to find my feet here, and then I'll be alright.
Jeziella closed her journal. The capryni at her feet looked up from its nap and she patted its head. "Time for me to go, little one." Returning the journal to her pack, she stood. Perhaps it was time to visit the other two villages.
It's been some time since I've taken a moment to sit and write. It's been some time since I have had more than a moment alone with my own thoughts. Yrkanis is bustling. Guards, merchants, people coming and going. It isn't the same as the Ranger camp, though. It feels impersonal. A sprawl of people all set on their own goals. I have had so many offers of help, though, that I'm almost at my wit's end with them.
I'm not ungrateful. It is more of a case that I do not know what to do with all the help being laid before me. Maybe it's ironic. Maybe not.
I've seen things that if I tried to commit them to words, I'd sound as far from sane as I ever have. Therefore, I'll decline from attempting to write of them, the same as I've declined to speak of them. Jelathnia introduced me to a High Officer of the Order, Souvec, and the two of them took me on quite a trip. We reached the Karavan outpost near the Upper Bog, and then they showed me a beautiful grotto in the Trove, of the Fleeting Gardens. It was truly stunning.
I'm glad Enon made the journey here to the mainland with me. I'm also glad his friend Kas made the trip. For all the help, I think I'd be lonely with out them. Even if we are often at opposite ends of the city from one another most of the time.
Enon and Kas have run off to do something "for the boys" tonight. I went out to find some ammunition casing materials for Enon. Looking at this pile, however, I may use them myself and simply tell him where he can find more. Then, of course, help him gather some for himself.
The two of us gathered resources at a place called Towerbridge Way. It was interesting, but frustrating. I'm the small fish again. All the skills and abilities that made me so useful in Silan are nothing here. Enon has tried to be supporting, but well. Even he far outstrips me. I cannot even pull most of the nodes we find to the surface. It's very frustrating.
I will keep it to myself though. I know that I need to find my feet here, and then I'll be alright.
Jeziella closed her journal. The capryni at her feet looked up from its nap and she patted its head. "Time for me to go, little one." Returning the journal to her pack, she stood. Perhaps it was time to visit the other two villages.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Northern Under Spring
I've fainted again. I woke up this morning to a tuft of something feathery tickling my nose. I was lying in a small bed of plants, somewhere in the Prime Roots. I remember running across the desert, from Pyr to Dryon and then on into this portal. Uliaryn, a Fyros woman of great skill, had taken myself and a young Atysian Paladin down to help careplan for her. It was a good learning experience. I hope they did not worry too much. At least it seems they left me somewhere safe when I could not be roused.
I fainted the night before as well. I should have known better than to push myself so hard again, so soon. I had made the trek to Pyre with Valko, Jelathnia, Alieriea, Narael, and Anzhye (I must learn to spell names correctly when recording them). We stopped at the bath house, but I returned to Yrkanis. I was looking for Enon when the spell hit me. I remember my legs feeling weak, and then the world went dark.
I awoke under the care of barkeep Trivaldo. He said I was walking past, toward the market when I swooned. I would have had a nasty bump on my head, if the young Corporal Antonni Beni had not been nearby. He swept me up, at a loss, when Trivaldo told him to bring me inside. A healer was brought in, could find nothing wrong of course, and that was more or less it. I must remember to thank the Corporal next time I see him. I offered to provide services for Trivaldo, but instead he told me to go see a prospecting friend of his near the Green Seed settlement.
That is a whole different story, besides. She gave me a pendant that caught the light of the sun in a way that it showed me a special location for resources. She requested some samples, a test of my abilities I suppose, and when I provided them I was given an amber cube of knowledge! It was about Majestic Gardens. Sicha Pelli then taught me a little better how to focus on my nodes and better work them. Very enlightening.
Now I'm in the area called Under Spring, through a portal to the far north east of the Fyros lands. I may as well use my time wisely here and see what can be found and safely explored here. I may return to Pyr and learn something of their crafts. It would be a shame to waste the trip. Unfortunately I think I will have to use my ticket to return there. I know there are great and hungry kitins just beyond the portal in the desert. I'm not so confident that I could skirt them.
I've been in contact with Haldir, of the Dragonblades, and may be able to have a wonderful suit or two of armor designed. He's capable of mixed race designs, and this would be delightful. I must decide what I want, though. I will find a way to repay all the kindnesses done for me. I don't know that I'd feel right otherwise.
When I return to Yrkanis, I must look into sending a letter back to Silan, for Ema. I have not heard from her yet. Nor Hayashibara, in a while. Nor Senduin, since before my visit to my parents'. I wonder, too, how Kyrim is doing, and if Gyles' wanderlust is being sated. So many things occupy my mind.
I must work harder.
Jeziellia sat against the wall of the cavern for a few more minutes, watching the ghostly mektoubs play amongst the strange plantlife. It was peaceful here, but she was still aware of the danger of the Prime Roots. In the further distance, she could make out the shapes of tyrancha on a small hill.
I've fainted again. I woke up this morning to a tuft of something feathery tickling my nose. I was lying in a small bed of plants, somewhere in the Prime Roots. I remember running across the desert, from Pyr to Dryon and then on into this portal. Uliaryn, a Fyros woman of great skill, had taken myself and a young Atysian Paladin down to help careplan for her. It was a good learning experience. I hope they did not worry too much. At least it seems they left me somewhere safe when I could not be roused.
I fainted the night before as well. I should have known better than to push myself so hard again, so soon. I had made the trek to Pyre with Valko, Jelathnia, Alieriea, Narael, and Anzhye (I must learn to spell names correctly when recording them). We stopped at the bath house, but I returned to Yrkanis. I was looking for Enon when the spell hit me. I remember my legs feeling weak, and then the world went dark.
I awoke under the care of barkeep Trivaldo. He said I was walking past, toward the market when I swooned. I would have had a nasty bump on my head, if the young Corporal Antonni Beni had not been nearby. He swept me up, at a loss, when Trivaldo told him to bring me inside. A healer was brought in, could find nothing wrong of course, and that was more or less it. I must remember to thank the Corporal next time I see him. I offered to provide services for Trivaldo, but instead he told me to go see a prospecting friend of his near the Green Seed settlement.
That is a whole different story, besides. She gave me a pendant that caught the light of the sun in a way that it showed me a special location for resources. She requested some samples, a test of my abilities I suppose, and when I provided them I was given an amber cube of knowledge! It was about Majestic Gardens. Sicha Pelli then taught me a little better how to focus on my nodes and better work them. Very enlightening.
Now I'm in the area called Under Spring, through a portal to the far north east of the Fyros lands. I may as well use my time wisely here and see what can be found and safely explored here. I may return to Pyr and learn something of their crafts. It would be a shame to waste the trip. Unfortunately I think I will have to use my ticket to return there. I know there are great and hungry kitins just beyond the portal in the desert. I'm not so confident that I could skirt them.
I've been in contact with Haldir, of the Dragonblades, and may be able to have a wonderful suit or two of armor designed. He's capable of mixed race designs, and this would be delightful. I must decide what I want, though. I will find a way to repay all the kindnesses done for me. I don't know that I'd feel right otherwise.
When I return to Yrkanis, I must look into sending a letter back to Silan, for Ema. I have not heard from her yet. Nor Hayashibara, in a while. Nor Senduin, since before my visit to my parents'. I wonder, too, how Kyrim is doing, and if Gyles' wanderlust is being sated. So many things occupy my mind.
I must work harder.
Jeziellia sat against the wall of the cavern for a few more minutes, watching the ghostly mektoubs play amongst the strange plantlife. It was peaceful here, but she was still aware of the danger of the Prime Roots. In the further distance, she could make out the shapes of tyrancha on a small hill.
Last edited by jennaelf on Wed Sep 27, 2006 1:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
Jeziellia Mara'tyr
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Towerbridge Way, Majestic Gardens of Verdant Heights
The sun is rising and still I have not slept. I don't know what happened, or when, but sometime after I left Pyr and returned to Yrkanis, a strange malaise came over me. I thought to alleviate it by running errands for Corporal Beni, and the Karavan. Nothing seemed to help.
Earlier in the day, Kas and I did a few errands around the desert outside Pyr, going so far as the Oflovak's Oasis, though it truly is not so far when one knows the way. We also attempted to journey to Thesos. That was a little more difficult. Valko met us at the end of the last bridge. He knew where we'd encounter trouble. By any estimations though, he was that trouble. I jest. Valko is a strong Fyros, and has an enjoyable sense of humor. Thus far, I've enjoyed his company. Now, at least, he knows I don't just carry this big sword for show.
So, Kas and I joined the Dragonblades for some training at Thesos. I learned quite a bit from watching the others, as well as from fighting against creatures much faster than those to which I'm accustomed. Kas left early; I fear I put him in a position that made him uncomfortable.
I don't like that it always feels as if there is something Enon wishes to say and holds back. It's almost constant, of late. I open doors of opportunity for him, and still nothing. This has kept me awake, staring over the field where the kinchers wander, watching the strange device flying above the Guard Post.
I should get some sleep before I must set about my tasks for the day.
Jeziellia slipped her journal into her pack. The new varinx-fur lined blanket was already laid out and had been for hours, waiting for her to finally sleep. She crept under the blanket, curling up on her side. Resting her head on the soft pillow (which Gyles had made for her, she remembered, hugging it), she soon succumbed to the embrace of sleep. And, as all her dreams since she was young, her mind was filled with visions of fire.
The sun is rising and still I have not slept. I don't know what happened, or when, but sometime after I left Pyr and returned to Yrkanis, a strange malaise came over me. I thought to alleviate it by running errands for Corporal Beni, and the Karavan. Nothing seemed to help.
Earlier in the day, Kas and I did a few errands around the desert outside Pyr, going so far as the Oflovak's Oasis, though it truly is not so far when one knows the way. We also attempted to journey to Thesos. That was a little more difficult. Valko met us at the end of the last bridge. He knew where we'd encounter trouble. By any estimations though, he was that trouble. I jest. Valko is a strong Fyros, and has an enjoyable sense of humor. Thus far, I've enjoyed his company. Now, at least, he knows I don't just carry this big sword for show.
So, Kas and I joined the Dragonblades for some training at Thesos. I learned quite a bit from watching the others, as well as from fighting against creatures much faster than those to which I'm accustomed. Kas left early; I fear I put him in a position that made him uncomfortable.
I don't like that it always feels as if there is something Enon wishes to say and holds back. It's almost constant, of late. I open doors of opportunity for him, and still nothing. This has kept me awake, staring over the field where the kinchers wander, watching the strange device flying above the Guard Post.
I should get some sleep before I must set about my tasks for the day.
Jeziellia slipped her journal into her pack. The new varinx-fur lined blanket was already laid out and had been for hours, waiting for her to finally sleep. She crept under the blanket, curling up on her side. Resting her head on the soft pillow (which Gyles had made for her, she remembered, hugging it), she soon succumbed to the embrace of sleep. And, as all her dreams since she was young, her mind was filled with visions of fire.