Jeziellia woke with a start, gasping for air. Heat seemed to burn her throat at first, but the feeling soon faded, nothing more than a dream phantom. Her sudden movement startled a cluster of three young crays that were sleeping outside her tent. They clicked and clacked their legs together anxiously, watching her. She smoothed her hair back from her face and slowly looked around, reorienting herself.
She was on the island in Shining Lake, in her tent. It was morning. The air was still cool and moist, and a mist was coming in from the lake. The cray were scuttling off to find themselves breakfast.
She finally took a deep breath and exhaled, falling back onto her makeshift pillow. "Another dream," she murmured, rolling over. She pulled her journal from its place in her pack.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Moderators: The Soothsayer, Lanist, Xaphon Zessen
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
Hayashibara said goodbye last night. No, that is not accurate. We will meet again. This island, the longer one stays here, seems to grow smaller and smaller until you feel trapped. I'm beginning to understand what drives so many homins to make the journey before they may be ready.
The newer refugees clamour for anyone who has an answer, and the questions are always the same. It tries the patience of those who've struggled through their trials in silence, but we all had questions once. And, for me, there was someone there to answer them. This is how they will learn, this is how they will grow, and this is how they will help populate this new world, to rebuild our empires. I strive to help them to help themselves.
I do admit I was sad to see him go. It is true that he would bring me some of the finest kirosta parts for armoring, but that is not half so important as something I cannot place my finger upon, as it were. I think, perhaps he wanted me to ask him to stay. Maybe I should have, but it would not have been fair to hold him back from his potential. If there is any lesson I value highly from my parents, it is this; Potential is limitless, and should not be discouraged.
He took me to a formation I've taken to calling the Spire. It overlooks the Blight, and a large portion of the forest surrounding Silan's ruins. It really is a beautiful. I should have encouraged him to stay and see it in the autumn as he said he might like. Hindsight does me no good, now.
I hope he found a welcome among his people, and others that would help him in his journey to Yrankis.
I found an eager young harvester last night, all to happy to tend nodes while I worked. Erubus will be a very good forager, if he stays with it. How many more will I teach? Are my lessons really valuable? Anyone could share what I do, I know it. I'm not special, in that, by any means. There's so much even I don't know.
I'm still exhausted, though I slept the night. My throat is dry and my mouth tastes of sand. Probably a trick of the cray.
I must begin working hard, so that I am ready when the time comes to make my own journey to Yrkanis.
Hayashibara said goodbye last night. No, that is not accurate. We will meet again. This island, the longer one stays here, seems to grow smaller and smaller until you feel trapped. I'm beginning to understand what drives so many homins to make the journey before they may be ready.
The newer refugees clamour for anyone who has an answer, and the questions are always the same. It tries the patience of those who've struggled through their trials in silence, but we all had questions once. And, for me, there was someone there to answer them. This is how they will learn, this is how they will grow, and this is how they will help populate this new world, to rebuild our empires. I strive to help them to help themselves.
I do admit I was sad to see him go. It is true that he would bring me some of the finest kirosta parts for armoring, but that is not half so important as something I cannot place my finger upon, as it were. I think, perhaps he wanted me to ask him to stay. Maybe I should have, but it would not have been fair to hold him back from his potential. If there is any lesson I value highly from my parents, it is this; Potential is limitless, and should not be discouraged.
He took me to a formation I've taken to calling the Spire. It overlooks the Blight, and a large portion of the forest surrounding Silan's ruins. It really is a beautiful. I should have encouraged him to stay and see it in the autumn as he said he might like. Hindsight does me no good, now.
I hope he found a welcome among his people, and others that would help him in his journey to Yrankis.
I found an eager young harvester last night, all to happy to tend nodes while I worked. Erubus will be a very good forager, if he stays with it. How many more will I teach? Are my lessons really valuable? Anyone could share what I do, I know it. I'm not special, in that, by any means. There's so much even I don't know.
I'm still exhausted, though I slept the night. My throat is dry and my mouth tastes of sand. Probably a trick of the cray.
I must begin working hard, so that I am ready when the time comes to make my own journey to Yrkanis.
Last edited by jennaelf on Mon Aug 07, 2006 4:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
I received word from Hayashibara from the capital. He had to journey through the Prime Roots to reach the city, and almost did not make it. I was relieved to find his letter awaiting me in the camp when I brought in my bag full of amber. I'm worry that he may have understated the true hardships of the journey so that I would not, in fact, worry. I can't do anything
I worked hard with Ta'Calc, learning how to enhance items while armor crafting. Soon, I will be able to repay Enon for all of his kindness and guidance to me. I still have hard work ahead.
I must send a letter to Hayashibara. Perhaps he can find Senduin. They may have nothing more in common than my acquaintance, but even if the capital is bustling, the Zorai is surely out of place and far from 'home'.
Jeziellia closed the journal, putting it back into her satchel. She shook her head, watching two crays play tug-of-war with her spare blanket. "Give me that!" she strode over and snatched it from between them. They scuttled in opposite directions. She laughed.
It was another beautiful day.
I received word from Hayashibara from the capital. He had to journey through the Prime Roots to reach the city, and almost did not make it. I was relieved to find his letter awaiting me in the camp when I brought in my bag full of amber. I'm worry that he may have understated the true hardships of the journey so that I would not, in fact, worry. I can't do anything
I worked hard with Ta'Calc, learning how to enhance items while armor crafting. Soon, I will be able to repay Enon for all of his kindness and guidance to me. I still have hard work ahead.
I must send a letter to Hayashibara. Perhaps he can find Senduin. They may have nothing more in common than my acquaintance, but even if the capital is bustling, the Zorai is surely out of place and far from 'home'.
Jeziellia closed the journal, putting it back into her satchel. She shook her head, watching two crays play tug-of-war with her spare blanket. "Give me that!" she strode over and snatched it from between them. They scuttled in opposite directions. She laughed.
It was another beautiful day.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
The past days have been a little over-full.
I feel I've neglected Enon, but I cannot seem to figure out why I feel that way. He's going on a trip soon. He'll be gone almost three whole seasons! I don't know if I will still be on Silan when he returns. We've avoided talking about it more than in passing. There are deep waters there, and I think neither of us treads such things very well. It is easier to pretend they don't exist, and just avoid them.
I'm glad, then, that I've finished his armor for him in time.
I don't want to think about this any longer.
Hayashibara sent me word from Pyr. He's learning how to travel the realm, and making deals with the Karavan in order to freely utilize their teleporters. I'm glad he's finding his feet so quickly.
I cannot forever look both forward and backward and hope to get anywhere. Some days I want to throw myself at Chiang's feet and beg him to send me on, away from this refugee camp. Other days, they would have to pry my fingers from the earth and drag me the whole way to the teleporter to make me leave.
The end of the world is coming. Of that I'm certain. Last night, Wan the Insufferable (it is less true than before, but perhaps separation has dulled my impressions), asked me directly for help. This does not happen often. In fact, it is usually me that puts myself in a position and asks if I can help. I was surprised, to say the least.
Gyles is getting better with harvesting. I took him to the jungles. He's progressing so well. I'm proud of him. I look forward too, to his promises to drag me all over the mainland one day. If he continues to progress with his harvesting we may be able to indulge in his little 'harvesting company' idea afterall. I let him work the nodes for a while, since he now wears a set of jewels enchanted to enhance his focus. The earth was softer, with the autumn storms, so a little easier on him.
A particularly strong storm one swept across the island while I was helping young Drasken acquire Kirosta shells and the like for his heavy armor. I have told him that I will make his suit for him, should he provide me with the materials. I do not charge for my services. But the storm; It was beautiful. The clouds were thick and dark. They rolled across the sky like a woolen blanket. The rain fell in sheets of fat and heavy drops. Lightning ripped the sky and the thunder rumbled, causing Atys to hum just slightly beneath my feet. Absolutely stunning to behold.
Tonight I'll spend some time with Enon. I'm sure we can teach each other a thing or two about our respective talents.
She closed the journal, putting it away. The sun already shone on the lake, well into the afternoon hours. Leaning back against the curved trunk of the palm tree, she put her hands behind her head and relaxed. There would be plenty of time for work later. For now, she was going to try a little of Gyles' strategy; not being on the go.
The past days have been a little over-full.
I feel I've neglected Enon, but I cannot seem to figure out why I feel that way. He's going on a trip soon. He'll be gone almost three whole seasons! I don't know if I will still be on Silan when he returns. We've avoided talking about it more than in passing. There are deep waters there, and I think neither of us treads such things very well. It is easier to pretend they don't exist, and just avoid them.
I'm glad, then, that I've finished his armor for him in time.
I don't want to think about this any longer.
Hayashibara sent me word from Pyr. He's learning how to travel the realm, and making deals with the Karavan in order to freely utilize their teleporters. I'm glad he's finding his feet so quickly.
I cannot forever look both forward and backward and hope to get anywhere. Some days I want to throw myself at Chiang's feet and beg him to send me on, away from this refugee camp. Other days, they would have to pry my fingers from the earth and drag me the whole way to the teleporter to make me leave.
The end of the world is coming. Of that I'm certain. Last night, Wan the Insufferable (it is less true than before, but perhaps separation has dulled my impressions), asked me directly for help. This does not happen often. In fact, it is usually me that puts myself in a position and asks if I can help. I was surprised, to say the least.
Gyles is getting better with harvesting. I took him to the jungles. He's progressing so well. I'm proud of him. I look forward too, to his promises to drag me all over the mainland one day. If he continues to progress with his harvesting we may be able to indulge in his little 'harvesting company' idea afterall. I let him work the nodes for a while, since he now wears a set of jewels enchanted to enhance his focus. The earth was softer, with the autumn storms, so a little easier on him.
A particularly strong storm one swept across the island while I was helping young Drasken acquire Kirosta shells and the like for his heavy armor. I have told him that I will make his suit for him, should he provide me with the materials. I do not charge for my services. But the storm; It was beautiful. The clouds were thick and dark. They rolled across the sky like a woolen blanket. The rain fell in sheets of fat and heavy drops. Lightning ripped the sky and the thunder rumbled, causing Atys to hum just slightly beneath my feet. Absolutely stunning to behold.
Tonight I'll spend some time with Enon. I'm sure we can teach each other a thing or two about our respective talents.
She closed the journal, putting it away. The sun already shone on the lake, well into the afternoon hours. Leaning back against the curved trunk of the palm tree, she put her hands behind her head and relaxed. There would be plenty of time for work later. For now, she was going to try a little of Gyles' strategy; not being on the go.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
I dreamt of fire again last night. I cannot decide if my mind calls on stories from my childhood of the great fires in the old kingdoms, or of more recent stories of the Karavan purges of blasphemers. It's never clear, just fire and pain.
The camp is beginning to feel too crowded for me. The moments of peace are fleeting. I enjoy helping those that need it. I do not enjoy being asked for help that is not needed, but desired only for selfish, lazy reasons. It begins to grate on my nerves like a pick being raked across hard stone. I could not even find peace in the shadowed area behind Be'Tooly's shop, where Enon and I usually work on our respective tasks.
Everything seems too loud. Even the morning stirrings of the camp feel like too much. I want to run out and just scream for the world to be silent. For there to be no sound, if only for a few moments.
I think my long hours of working are getting to me, yet I can't seem to escape the anxiety, even if I stop working entirely. If I thought I was off balance an uncentered before, I was wrong.
I've had word from a few acquaintances on the mainland. Through their letters and the like, I hope to better prepare myself for what is to come.
Just a few days, now, until Enon goes away on his trip. I will have to find out if there is anything he needs beforehand. I forgot to ask last night, lost in the bustle of the loud and obnoxious.
Tonight, I'll go see the view from the Spire.
Stuffing her journal beneath her pillow, Jeziellia curled up as small as she could, pulling the blanket tight around her. The autumn morning was chill enough to make such a blanket comfortable. She laid like this for some time, watching the shadows that passed her rented tent in the Tryker encampment.
I dreamt of fire again last night. I cannot decide if my mind calls on stories from my childhood of the great fires in the old kingdoms, or of more recent stories of the Karavan purges of blasphemers. It's never clear, just fire and pain.
The camp is beginning to feel too crowded for me. The moments of peace are fleeting. I enjoy helping those that need it. I do not enjoy being asked for help that is not needed, but desired only for selfish, lazy reasons. It begins to grate on my nerves like a pick being raked across hard stone. I could not even find peace in the shadowed area behind Be'Tooly's shop, where Enon and I usually work on our respective tasks.
Everything seems too loud. Even the morning stirrings of the camp feel like too much. I want to run out and just scream for the world to be silent. For there to be no sound, if only for a few moments.
I think my long hours of working are getting to me, yet I can't seem to escape the anxiety, even if I stop working entirely. If I thought I was off balance an uncentered before, I was wrong.
I've had word from a few acquaintances on the mainland. Through their letters and the like, I hope to better prepare myself for what is to come.
Just a few days, now, until Enon goes away on his trip. I will have to find out if there is anything he needs beforehand. I forgot to ask last night, lost in the bustle of the loud and obnoxious.
Tonight, I'll go see the view from the Spire.
Stuffing her journal beneath her pillow, Jeziellia curled up as small as she could, pulling the blanket tight around her. The autumn morning was chill enough to make such a blanket comfortable. She laid like this for some time, watching the shadows that passed her rented tent in the Tryker encampment.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
The Spire, overlooking the Blight of Silan
What is it about this Spire that evokes such emotion in me? Down there, on the firm flesh of Atys, I am in control. My face is a placid mirror, reflecting only what I want it to reflect. My words are a blade, woven through the air in just the pattern I desire, to cut where I wish. I am aloof, I am almost untouchable.
Up here, the truths of life come to me. Perhaps it is the quiet, or the air. Or the company. I've shared this view with three people; Hayashibara, Gyles, and Enon.
Hayashibara left in the summer, wishing he could see the forest of Silan in the autumn. Gyles is still on the island, and we watched the trees begin to turn. And with Enon, I saw the beauty of the reds, oranges, and golds of a sunset blanketing the island. A moon shone brightly through the thick autumn clouds. It was a beautiful sight.
Enon rests on the other side of the passage with his back toward me. He alternates between sleeping peacefully and mumbling with a pensive frown marring his Matisian features as he tosses and turns. He will be leaving soon. He fears I will not be here when he returns. He may be right. Three seasons is a long time. But who can say? When the time comes, then the time comes.
He underestimates his value. That is a concern I can understand. If he cannot find use here, then where? Oh, Enon, you are more than just what 'use' may be had of you. Just as each homin is. I pray to Jena that you realize what potential you carry, and then ascend to it.
It is still raining, and the sun has yet to rise. The makeshift tent I fashioned has kept the wind from blowing water in on us, but a small rivulet runs between us in the dirt. Still, it is preferable to sleeping exposed to the elements completely. Especially these autumn storms. Somehow, even those storms seem to contribute to the airy peace of this place.
The serenity of the Spire cannot ease this knot in my stomach, however.
I was working with small links of twisted wire, making an anklet as Ta'Calc had taught me when I felt as though I'd been hit in the stomach. I closed my eyes against it, but then the dizziness came. I excused myself, leaving my work where it lay, unmindful of the valuable amber and seeds with which I'd been working. I did not look back to see what strange looks Enon and the others might've had for me.
The dizziness settled just as I stumbled to sit beside an abandoned, but still-burning, campfire. The pain in my stomach turned into a knot of dread that made me run cold, and I suddenly felt like crying. As if the knot was a void. It sounds oxymoronical to call a void solid, but it was. It was a hard, empty place inside of me.
As suddenly as it came, it was gone. Only this phantom, more memory than truth, stays with me. Was it some reaction to Atys, to the Blight that infects the area nearby, so close? A premonition? And if so, then of what? I hope to never find out. For it to pass and become a memory that I think on and wonder if it were ever true.
I am thankful I did not wake Enon earlier. Or, at least, I assume I did not. I dreamt of darkness. I dreamt I was in this darkness, calling out and there was no one to answer my calls. Not even my own echo. I wept. Where my tears fell into the darkness, sparks of fire flashed. Some died, some grew. There was a great sun in the darkness above me and the fire at my feet. I reached for the sun as the fire licked my feet. I cried out and at last reached the sun. It seared my hand. Suspended in the darkness, I curled into myself, away from the sun, and away from the fire, and then I fell.
I fell, curled as a babe in the womb, for what felt like forever. A barren ground formed below me and I landed hard, knocking the wind from my form. It is that landing that woke me with a gasp.
Jeziellia sighed and looked over toward Enon. His blanket draped over his hips, covering just his legs. His arm lay along his side, his hand disappearing down in front of him. His breathing came slow and steady. He hadn't moved or mumbled in some time. Jeziellia smiled to herself, hoping he was having pleasant dreams.
Laying her journal upon her pillow, she leaned back against the tunnel wall, drawing her knees up and folding her arms across her torso. She turned her head to watch the moon set.
What is it about this Spire that evokes such emotion in me? Down there, on the firm flesh of Atys, I am in control. My face is a placid mirror, reflecting only what I want it to reflect. My words are a blade, woven through the air in just the pattern I desire, to cut where I wish. I am aloof, I am almost untouchable.
Up here, the truths of life come to me. Perhaps it is the quiet, or the air. Or the company. I've shared this view with three people; Hayashibara, Gyles, and Enon.
Hayashibara left in the summer, wishing he could see the forest of Silan in the autumn. Gyles is still on the island, and we watched the trees begin to turn. And with Enon, I saw the beauty of the reds, oranges, and golds of a sunset blanketing the island. A moon shone brightly through the thick autumn clouds. It was a beautiful sight.
Enon rests on the other side of the passage with his back toward me. He alternates between sleeping peacefully and mumbling with a pensive frown marring his Matisian features as he tosses and turns. He will be leaving soon. He fears I will not be here when he returns. He may be right. Three seasons is a long time. But who can say? When the time comes, then the time comes.
He underestimates his value. That is a concern I can understand. If he cannot find use here, then where? Oh, Enon, you are more than just what 'use' may be had of you. Just as each homin is. I pray to Jena that you realize what potential you carry, and then ascend to it.
It is still raining, and the sun has yet to rise. The makeshift tent I fashioned has kept the wind from blowing water in on us, but a small rivulet runs between us in the dirt. Still, it is preferable to sleeping exposed to the elements completely. Especially these autumn storms. Somehow, even those storms seem to contribute to the airy peace of this place.
The serenity of the Spire cannot ease this knot in my stomach, however.
I was working with small links of twisted wire, making an anklet as Ta'Calc had taught me when I felt as though I'd been hit in the stomach. I closed my eyes against it, but then the dizziness came. I excused myself, leaving my work where it lay, unmindful of the valuable amber and seeds with which I'd been working. I did not look back to see what strange looks Enon and the others might've had for me.
The dizziness settled just as I stumbled to sit beside an abandoned, but still-burning, campfire. The pain in my stomach turned into a knot of dread that made me run cold, and I suddenly felt like crying. As if the knot was a void. It sounds oxymoronical to call a void solid, but it was. It was a hard, empty place inside of me.
As suddenly as it came, it was gone. Only this phantom, more memory than truth, stays with me. Was it some reaction to Atys, to the Blight that infects the area nearby, so close? A premonition? And if so, then of what? I hope to never find out. For it to pass and become a memory that I think on and wonder if it were ever true.
I am thankful I did not wake Enon earlier. Or, at least, I assume I did not. I dreamt of darkness. I dreamt I was in this darkness, calling out and there was no one to answer my calls. Not even my own echo. I wept. Where my tears fell into the darkness, sparks of fire flashed. Some died, some grew. There was a great sun in the darkness above me and the fire at my feet. I reached for the sun as the fire licked my feet. I cried out and at last reached the sun. It seared my hand. Suspended in the darkness, I curled into myself, away from the sun, and away from the fire, and then I fell.
I fell, curled as a babe in the womb, for what felt like forever. A barren ground formed below me and I landed hard, knocking the wind from my form. It is that landing that woke me with a gasp.
Jeziellia sighed and looked over toward Enon. His blanket draped over his hips, covering just his legs. His arm lay along his side, his hand disappearing down in front of him. His breathing came slow and steady. He hadn't moved or mumbled in some time. Jeziellia smiled to herself, hoping he was having pleasant dreams.
Laying her journal upon her pillow, she leaned back against the tunnel wall, drawing her knees up and folding her arms across her torso. She turned her head to watch the moon set.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
I'm confined to bed rest. Sterga will, from time to time, request permission to enter to be sure I'm still here, and still resting. He frowns, but even he can't disguise his concern.
I'm still not certain what happened.
I remember returning from the island with Enon. I was going to work on a few more items, and he was going to find something to eat. He left and I turned back to focus on my work. Then, as if someone had extinguished the sun, everything went black and I felt myself falling.
When I awoke, I was lying on a rather comfortable cot and there was a Tryker man sitting beside me. He wore the garb of the Karavan. The world was hazy, but he was speaking to someone near my feet, "She'll be fine. Jena has seen her through. She must rest." With that the man stood and left my side. I turned my head to see who else was in the tent with me. It was Sterga.
I insisted on leaving when I could sit up, but the Tryker had been stationed outside my tent to ensure I didn't.
I fear I've missed Enon's departure.
Jeziellia fell back heavily on the lush Matis pillows, overtaken by a sudden weakness. She sighed and closed her eyes. She turned onto her side, sliding the journal beneath the pillows. "I'm sorry Enon," she murmured, hoping he didn't worry too much about her absence, and that his trip went well. Her eyes closed. She did not dream.
I'm confined to bed rest. Sterga will, from time to time, request permission to enter to be sure I'm still here, and still resting. He frowns, but even he can't disguise his concern.
I'm still not certain what happened.
I remember returning from the island with Enon. I was going to work on a few more items, and he was going to find something to eat. He left and I turned back to focus on my work. Then, as if someone had extinguished the sun, everything went black and I felt myself falling.
When I awoke, I was lying on a rather comfortable cot and there was a Tryker man sitting beside me. He wore the garb of the Karavan. The world was hazy, but he was speaking to someone near my feet, "She'll be fine. Jena has seen her through. She must rest." With that the man stood and left my side. I turned my head to see who else was in the tent with me. It was Sterga.
I insisted on leaving when I could sit up, but the Tryker had been stationed outside my tent to ensure I didn't.
I fear I've missed Enon's departure.
Jeziellia fell back heavily on the lush Matis pillows, overtaken by a sudden weakness. She sighed and closed her eyes. She turned onto her side, sliding the journal beneath the pillows. "I'm sorry Enon," she murmured, hoping he didn't worry too much about her absence, and that his trip went well. Her eyes closed. She did not dream.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
I felt surprisingly good when I awoke last evening. Sterga and the Karavan guardian agreed that I should be fine, but made me promise to return here to rest for the night.
I went out and decided to begin mapping the nodes (as best I could) within the Hunting Grounds. I have not finished anything north of the Ragus lair, but I did a fair amount. I discovered a wood I had never seen before; Eyota wood. It seems very strong. I found one node that offered very fine specimens. I gave them to Be'Tooly and told her to sell them to any aspiring crafters for fairly low cost - I dabble with higher quality materials now.
I helped more than a few Homins, and felt very good about it. I did a little harvesting of my own on the island, and returned to the Matis encampment as I had promised. Sterga insists that I rest today, and into the evening. I think he is worried because there is yet no known cause for my collapse. I am not too worried, as whatever it was seems to have passed.
Jeziellia closed the journal and set it aside. She adjusted the small tray that sat across her lap before pouring a small pouch of amber onto it. A matching pouch was withdrawn from her pack, sitting nearby, and seeds spilled onto the tray to mingle with the amber. She took a wire spool from the table next to her cot, and removed her case of jeweling tools from the front pocket of her pack. At least she could work on this while she rested.
I felt surprisingly good when I awoke last evening. Sterga and the Karavan guardian agreed that I should be fine, but made me promise to return here to rest for the night.
I went out and decided to begin mapping the nodes (as best I could) within the Hunting Grounds. I have not finished anything north of the Ragus lair, but I did a fair amount. I discovered a wood I had never seen before; Eyota wood. It seems very strong. I found one node that offered very fine specimens. I gave them to Be'Tooly and told her to sell them to any aspiring crafters for fairly low cost - I dabble with higher quality materials now.
I helped more than a few Homins, and felt very good about it. I did a little harvesting of my own on the island, and returned to the Matis encampment as I had promised. Sterga insists that I rest today, and into the evening. I think he is worried because there is yet no known cause for my collapse. I am not too worried, as whatever it was seems to have passed.
Jeziellia closed the journal and set it aside. She adjusted the small tray that sat across her lap before pouring a small pouch of amber onto it. A matching pouch was withdrawn from her pack, sitting nearby, and seeds spilled onto the tray to mingle with the amber. She took a wire spool from the table next to her cot, and removed her case of jeweling tools from the front pocket of her pack. At least she could work on this while she rested.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
[Backdated entry, to align with August 12, 2006]
Morning
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
Sterga says I can go on my way today. The Karavan attendant has given me leave. Whatever it was seems to have passed entirely. I am to report back if I have any similar spells of course. Gyles should be about this evening. I'm looking forward to seeing how he may have progressed with his abilities.
Evening
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
I know, now, the cause of my maladies the last few days. Gyles has left. Not for the mainland, and the Lakelands of his people, but for destinations unknown.
Premonitions.
Jeziellia pulled the letter from between the later pages of her journal, staring at it. She'd found it tacked to the root where she and Gyles camped many nights, on the shores of the island. "He didn't even stay to say goodbye..." The tears welled fresh in her eyes, the blue shimmering like the waters of the lake in the setting sun. But Jeziellia knew that this way was the best way. There was no sense in tearful goodbyes; it would only have made it harder on the both of them.
She folded the letter carefully and tucked it between the pages of her journal. "I wish you the best, my friend. May Jena lead our paths to cross in the future," she whispered. She lowered her head and sat quietly at the shore's edge. Her tears mingled with the waters of the lake.
Letter from Gyles:
Jeziellia,
I hate for this to be so sudden, but I have become stricken with a particularly strong case of wanderlust. How I wish you could come with me, to wherever it is I end up, however I couldn't take you away from here when you're not ready to leave. It wouldn't be fair to either of us.
I've no idea where I am going, or what life will be like when I get there. I hope to find many a great sight along the way though. And hey, maybe I'll find the way up onto those overhead roots!
I am unsure if I will ever see you again Jez, however I can honestly say, I hope so. Maybe someday, on down the line, our paths will cross again. But for now I hope you can at least understand my need to leave. And I hope you'll not be upset with me. Remember, no matter where I am, and where you are, we're still the best of friends.
-Gyles Gordon
Morning
Matis encampment in the Ranger Camp, near fallen Silan
Sterga says I can go on my way today. The Karavan attendant has given me leave. Whatever it was seems to have passed entirely. I am to report back if I have any similar spells of course. Gyles should be about this evening. I'm looking forward to seeing how he may have progressed with his abilities.
Evening
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
I know, now, the cause of my maladies the last few days. Gyles has left. Not for the mainland, and the Lakelands of his people, but for destinations unknown.
Premonitions.
Jeziellia pulled the letter from between the later pages of her journal, staring at it. She'd found it tacked to the root where she and Gyles camped many nights, on the shores of the island. "He didn't even stay to say goodbye..." The tears welled fresh in her eyes, the blue shimmering like the waters of the lake in the setting sun. But Jeziellia knew that this way was the best way. There was no sense in tearful goodbyes; it would only have made it harder on the both of them.
She folded the letter carefully and tucked it between the pages of her journal. "I wish you the best, my friend. May Jena lead our paths to cross in the future," she whispered. She lowered her head and sat quietly at the shore's edge. Her tears mingled with the waters of the lake.
Letter from Gyles:
Jeziellia,
I hate for this to be so sudden, but I have become stricken with a particularly strong case of wanderlust. How I wish you could come with me, to wherever it is I end up, however I couldn't take you away from here when you're not ready to leave. It wouldn't be fair to either of us.
I've no idea where I am going, or what life will be like when I get there. I hope to find many a great sight along the way though. And hey, maybe I'll find the way up onto those overhead roots!
I am unsure if I will ever see you again Jez, however I can honestly say, I hope so. Maybe someday, on down the line, our paths will cross again. But for now I hope you can at least understand my need to leave. And I hope you'll not be upset with me. Remember, no matter where I am, and where you are, we're still the best of friends.
-Gyles Gordon