Ranger Encampment, near fallen Silan
I can't understand the ferverent dislike that Zorai holds for the Karavan, in favor of the Kami. He claims the Goo that infects the area around Silan is the fault of the Karavan, that somehow the Karavan are careless and purposefully destroying Atys and the Kami, and by extension Ma-Duk. That's ridiculous, of course. In my long journey to reach these lands, I did not see the Kami by my side. I did not see the great Ma-Duk bandaging my bleeding feet, nor did I see the Kami offering solace to the families of those that did not survive.
What I saw, and what I learned in our histories, was the Karavan. They sent groups to help us, to guide us to the teleporters, to safety. When the teleporters were destroyed by the Kitin, still the Karavan helped us. They found the way by which the Exodus was made, and that is the only reason many of us survived. Including that ungrateful Zorai, whether he will admit it or not.
I do not dislike the Kami by any means. I find their view narrowminded, at best, and downright destructive in its own way at worst, however. They seek only to destroy the things they do not understand, even if that destruction means wiping out entire areas of wildlife. The Karavan, on the other hand, wish to find a cure. I have heard the words with my own ears. Only the Kami spoke with an underlying threat when I offered my help in exploring the cause of the Goo that plagues this place.
I made it to the encampment near Silan only one short cycle of seasons ago, and I have seen a lot more than I ever expected. Still, even I can only imagine what I will yet see if I decide to make the trek to my peoples' settlements on the mainland. The journey here was difficult, and now I'm trying to learn what has happened since the first of my people - and the other peoples - came to this place.
What is history for the people who've already settled here are new horrors for me. The Matis, damn our vanity and sense of superiority, were the cause of a number of bloody battles, and yet at the same time - . It's too much to absorb. I am not my people, I am only one of them. I cannot right their wrongs, but I think that I try.
I've run until my feet have blistered, finding and helping the homins that have made this journey with me. Most of them I do not know, but we all bleed to find a new home. We are all lonely, and far from home, without a home to which to return. We are all here to forge a new home.
I have made few friends, and I understand that I can be aloof. A legacy of my people, and a curse in wandering these lands. Still there is hope, despite all the tensions between the homin peoples, that I may yet find a place to call home and friends to call family. Until then, I will pay for the sins of my people through reputation, and try to repay those sins by my own good deeds.
I hope that Zorai liked the magic amplifiers I gave to him. And that Gyles liked the earring. I can only do little things, but I hope they amount to much more than the sum of the materials and efforts involved. If Jena smiles upon me, may I continue to see their familiar faces.
The world can seem so lonely without those little moments.
Jeziellia
((This is, of course, Jeziellia's journal and as such her personal thoughts, in no way representing the "truth". No stealing her diary from under her pillow! (ie, using this info ic) Hope folks enjoy reading as much as I do playing and writing. -Jenna))
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Moderators: The Soothsayer, Lanist, Xaphon Zessen
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Last edited by jennaelf on Mon Jul 24, 2006 7:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Jeziellia closed her journal and looked out over the encampment. Tomorrow would be another day, and it would come far too soon. She turned her eyes to the sky. Another storm was coming in, and the wind had grown colder. It would begin to snow soon. Autumn was almost gone. She stood, brushing the dried grass from her bottom. "Time to give up on these intolerable pants", she muttered, casting an annoyed glance toward the Matis encampment, and the man that had insisted these would be best for her. They were her people, but she preferred the company of the Trykers lately. Jeziella waved goodnight to Milles and Yoh, who would spend many more hours greeting and helping the other homin refugees in the camp, and retired to the Tryker campfire to hear a few tales before she found a bed for the night.
Last edited by jennaelf on Wed Jul 26, 2006 6:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
I often say that history is there for us to learn from, not to be scolded for.
History is the tales of deeds and ventures of the old, they have their part in the life of Atys.
Your are a kind and caring Homin my friend, I am honoured to have read your journal. And I hope that we will soon meet.
Thank you
//Drakfot
History is the tales of deeds and ventures of the old, they have their part in the life of Atys.
Your are a kind and caring Homin my friend, I am honoured to have read your journal. And I hope that we will soon meet.
Thank you
//Drakfot
Drakfot
Guild Muse of Evolution, Light Armourer and giver of smiles.
A family, Ryzom Ambiente, Ryzom by night,
Ryzom 5 year anniversary!
Guild Muse of Evolution, Light Armourer and giver of smiles.
A family, Ryzom Ambiente, Ryzom by night,
Ryzom 5 year anniversary!
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Ruined hall, in the Ruins of Silan
The camp was alive tonight with laughter, a sometimes rare sound in the past few years of my life. The first snows are falling, and those seem always to be call for a sense of wonderment. But like the thunderstorms, the fascination will pass and again I will hear in the crowds, "Snowing again?"
Even I can't help but smile at the cycles.
That insufferable Zorai, however, steals my reasons to smile. I haven't condemned him for his devotion to the Kami and Ma-Duk, but because I speak with intelligent thought instead of first falling on my knees and kissing Atys, I am somehow less of a homin to him. If those are the ways of Ma-Duk and the ways of the Kami, then he can keep them himself.
I have no illusions about the darker deeds of which my race, and even the Karavan, are capable. I've read of the purges. I'm not stupid. And I'm not brainwashed, as he seems to be.
I can't even have a pleasant conversation with him in the vicinity. I'm curious to get to know others of my kind, particularly those that might have a more level head than those that know only blind devotion to the Karavan or Kami, like so many. The Zorai's Matis friend interests me. Nevermind that he's rather pleasant to observe, particularly when crafting.
I missed seeing Gyles last evening. I cannot help but to smile a little, wondering if he was out practicing the new, gentler methods of harvesting at some point. I really am looking forward to being able to take him out to the island at the lake.
In an unrelated event, I was contacted by a guild agent; Jelathnia of the Order of the Dragonblades. I cannot express my amazement and excitement at this turn. It would seem a Tryker associate of hers, Lineppey Brerme I believe?, had taken notice of my assistance to the other homin refugees. I will have to carefully consider this opportunity. I have heard of the Order, even out here in Silan, and that means it must be no small matter, doesn't it?
The idea of joining them, and journeying to the mainland causes butterflies in my stomach. I know, if I were to leave, I would greatly miss this ragged little camp and the good I can do here.
But it is late and now is not the hour to be considering such weighty matters. Perhaps tomorrow I will learn how to work with a node cooperatively, with Enon in the jungles. A full set of finely crafted Matis jewels is quite the offer for such services, and it will serve as a learning experience for me. I'm not certain who will gain more from this, to be honest.
His armor fits me very well. I'm pleased with my purchase. Little compares to the luxurious feel of Matis light armors.
Things I should learn more about: Wilke, of the Rangers of Atys. Desenne. Candid and Slyph? Deamla, Sanantia, Phanasa, the Marshalls.
Jeziellia
The camp was alive tonight with laughter, a sometimes rare sound in the past few years of my life. The first snows are falling, and those seem always to be call for a sense of wonderment. But like the thunderstorms, the fascination will pass and again I will hear in the crowds, "Snowing again?"
Even I can't help but smile at the cycles.
That insufferable Zorai, however, steals my reasons to smile. I haven't condemned him for his devotion to the Kami and Ma-Duk, but because I speak with intelligent thought instead of first falling on my knees and kissing Atys, I am somehow less of a homin to him. If those are the ways of Ma-Duk and the ways of the Kami, then he can keep them himself.
I have no illusions about the darker deeds of which my race, and even the Karavan, are capable. I've read of the purges. I'm not stupid. And I'm not brainwashed, as he seems to be.
I can't even have a pleasant conversation with him in the vicinity. I'm curious to get to know others of my kind, particularly those that might have a more level head than those that know only blind devotion to the Karavan or Kami, like so many. The Zorai's Matis friend interests me. Nevermind that he's rather pleasant to observe, particularly when crafting.
I missed seeing Gyles last evening. I cannot help but to smile a little, wondering if he was out practicing the new, gentler methods of harvesting at some point. I really am looking forward to being able to take him out to the island at the lake.
In an unrelated event, I was contacted by a guild agent; Jelathnia of the Order of the Dragonblades. I cannot express my amazement and excitement at this turn. It would seem a Tryker associate of hers, Lineppey Brerme I believe?, had taken notice of my assistance to the other homin refugees. I will have to carefully consider this opportunity. I have heard of the Order, even out here in Silan, and that means it must be no small matter, doesn't it?
The idea of joining them, and journeying to the mainland causes butterflies in my stomach. I know, if I were to leave, I would greatly miss this ragged little camp and the good I can do here.
But it is late and now is not the hour to be considering such weighty matters. Perhaps tomorrow I will learn how to work with a node cooperatively, with Enon in the jungles. A full set of finely crafted Matis jewels is quite the offer for such services, and it will serve as a learning experience for me. I'm not certain who will gain more from this, to be honest.
His armor fits me very well. I'm pleased with my purchase. Little compares to the luxurious feel of Matis light armors.
Things I should learn more about: Wilke, of the Rangers of Atys. Desenne. Candid and Slyph? Deamla, Sanantia, Phanasa, the Marshalls.
Jeziellia
Jeziellia closed her journal, looking out the window of the ruined building in which she took shelter. A group of bandits sat huddled around a campfire, sharing bawdy tales over a bottle of what Jeziellia assumed was some Goo concoction. In the distance, she could hear the gingos howling and the Yelk lowing. A small group of Rendors trotted around the base of the building, looking for a place to bed down for the night. The snow had been falling for a few hours, and would continue through the night.
Jeziellia pulled a blanket from her pack and curled up against the wall. She had climbed onto a second floor remnant; it was unlikely the bandits would imagine she was there. The wood felt warm beneath her. There was stil life in Silan, and for a moment before drifting off to sleep, she wondered if that Matis Cratfing Master in the encampment was right or mad in his desire to rebuild this fallen city.
Jeziellia pulled a blanket from her pack and curled up against the wall. She had climbed onto a second floor remnant; it was unlikely the bandits would imagine she was there. The wood felt warm beneath her. There was stil life in Silan, and for a moment before drifting off to sleep, she wondered if that Matis Cratfing Master in the encampment was right or mad in his desire to rebuild this fallen city.
Ranger Encampment, near fallen Silan
I have to find my center. If relations can get this tense and tumultuous on this isolated island, what must it be like on the mainland where the Kami and Karavan factions engage in open battle?
This evening was better than the past few have been, though I must admit even those were not that bad. The Zorai was looking for a Matis craftsman to fashion him a pair of new sleeves. I couldn't resist the opportunity - both to help, and to feed an often-undernourished side of my vanity.
I estimated his size from memory. Luckily they fit very well. He even liked them. The skins used in their creation gave them a purple cast. The larger shoulders preferred by Matis men managed to fill out his lanky Zorai form very well. Of course after some consideration, he decided he might prefer green.
Graaf joined us, fully armored. He'd commented how I must be disappointed. I wasn't.
We three made the journey to the field of Cratchas to gather materials, and later on to the island. I showed the Zorai a few useful locations for resources and made him a bargain. I would harvest fiber materials for him to use in his own crafting, if he would harvest seeds for me. This way I could give him higher quality threads of fiber for his work; afterall, I can gather the fiber whenever I like. The trade was more than fair.
I even assisted the Zorai, Graaf, and a Fyros woman in a strike against the leader of the bandits in the ruins, known only as Arken. When we were finished, I received word from Enon.
I am pleased he remembered that I had said I would assist him. I'm still not certain, even after it is all done, who benefited more from our arrangement.
Yoh had, of course, taught me how to tend to a node. How to keep it stable, and how to keep the life-force of Atys beating with in it until all the materials were withdrawn, but I had not truly understood until tonight just what it all meant. With my hands elbow deep into the life of the world, and Enon working there in front of me - it was one of the most content moments I have had in some time.
We worked in the jungles. In exchange for two sets of Matis jewels, I tended his nodes while he examined and separated the materials within. It was enjoyable company, a valuable learning experience, as well as materially beneficial. I may have made a friend. Time will tell.
It is far easier to give my assistance, my knowledge, armor, weapons, and jewels. It is not so easy to give more deeply of myself. Time will tell.
The hour is late.
She tucked her journal into her bag. A few of the Tryker men were still outside her rented tent, singing soft choruses. She couldn't quite make out the words, but the lulling rhythm was enough. Lying down, Jeziellia curled up on her side, watching the flicker of the campfire through the small gap in the tent's flaps. The Tryker songs grew distant to her as sleep crept upon her. That night, she dreamt of fire.
I have to find my center. If relations can get this tense and tumultuous on this isolated island, what must it be like on the mainland where the Kami and Karavan factions engage in open battle?
This evening was better than the past few have been, though I must admit even those were not that bad. The Zorai was looking for a Matis craftsman to fashion him a pair of new sleeves. I couldn't resist the opportunity - both to help, and to feed an often-undernourished side of my vanity.
I estimated his size from memory. Luckily they fit very well. He even liked them. The skins used in their creation gave them a purple cast. The larger shoulders preferred by Matis men managed to fill out his lanky Zorai form very well. Of course after some consideration, he decided he might prefer green.
Graaf joined us, fully armored. He'd commented how I must be disappointed. I wasn't.
We three made the journey to the field of Cratchas to gather materials, and later on to the island. I showed the Zorai a few useful locations for resources and made him a bargain. I would harvest fiber materials for him to use in his own crafting, if he would harvest seeds for me. This way I could give him higher quality threads of fiber for his work; afterall, I can gather the fiber whenever I like. The trade was more than fair.
I even assisted the Zorai, Graaf, and a Fyros woman in a strike against the leader of the bandits in the ruins, known only as Arken. When we were finished, I received word from Enon.
I am pleased he remembered that I had said I would assist him. I'm still not certain, even after it is all done, who benefited more from our arrangement.
Yoh had, of course, taught me how to tend to a node. How to keep it stable, and how to keep the life-force of Atys beating with in it until all the materials were withdrawn, but I had not truly understood until tonight just what it all meant. With my hands elbow deep into the life of the world, and Enon working there in front of me - it was one of the most content moments I have had in some time.
We worked in the jungles. In exchange for two sets of Matis jewels, I tended his nodes while he examined and separated the materials within. It was enjoyable company, a valuable learning experience, as well as materially beneficial. I may have made a friend. Time will tell.
It is far easier to give my assistance, my knowledge, armor, weapons, and jewels. It is not so easy to give more deeply of myself. Time will tell.
The hour is late.
She tucked her journal into her bag. A few of the Tryker men were still outside her rented tent, singing soft choruses. She couldn't quite make out the words, but the lulling rhythm was enough. Lying down, Jeziellia curled up on her side, watching the flicker of the campfire through the small gap in the tent's flaps. The Tryker songs grew distant to her as sleep crept upon her. That night, she dreamt of fire.
Re: Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
I should be asleep, but I cannot seem to find peace enough in my mind to attain it any longer. The sun is rising, and it's beautiful across the water. The scent of flowers is strong in the air, and the newer cray hatchlings are particularly curious and playful.
The past few days have been nothing short of flustering, wonderful, and enlightening in every way imaginable. Last night was particularly so. Many familiar faces, for many of the islands inhabitants become familiar to me when I offer so much of my assistance, set out on their journey to the mainland, and to their respective peoples' cities. More than a few of them did so wearing something fashioned by my hands. I'm a little proud of that; there's nothing wrong with a little pride, I work hard, afterall.
Gyles is still asleep in the tent behind me. If you can call it a tent. It's little more than a particularly sizable torbak hide drapped over one of the protruding roots. It was the only dry spot to be had in the recent storms, and it allowed for a lovely view of the water, along with the peacefulness of isolation from the camp. I've done more simple sitting and just reflecting in the past two days than I have in the past three seasons. I'm thankful to him for that.
I was so flustered by my own promises to help so many in such a small time; Gyles' assistance was nothing less than a godsend. He was patient, where I wanted to scream. He helped me with the nodes I needed, he let me weigh him down with kitin shells and stingers that I couldn't manage while working with so many other materials. And he saved my life no less than twice in the jungles.
That's what I get for trying to show off. I wanted to show him something new, so I took him to the Kirosta's lair. We left it alone, but I wanted him to see it. The kitin are frightening, but still a wonder of Atys that we've had little exposure to, thank Jena. The kipesta were particularly riled. I promised him, before we went on the trip, that he'd come out of it unscathed - as much as possible there, that is - and he did. I took a little more of a roughing up than I'm accustomed to, but it was bound to happen. My armor isn't very heavy at all, and I refuse to put a bucket on my head.
Today is another day. I told Gyles I would stitch together a more proper tent today. Maybe we will camp out more often on the island on clear nights. It's peaceful. I've also planned an expedition into the jungles for myself, to see what nodes I can coax up. I have greatly improved my abilities with armor. Ta'Calc is scolding me for allowing my weaponry crafting skills atrophy.
In other news, Kyrim found his way to this camp. I wasn't sure anyone I'd known from before was still alive. Though we may tease each other mercilessly (and sometimes maliciously, it seems), I'm very glad to see him.
The pressure to head to the mainland is mounting. Is it alright for a Matis to admit she's afraid? Only in these pages for now, and only to someone I trust not to hurt me with that knowledge.
Jeziellia looked over her shoulder to where Gyles lay sleeping. He was mumbling something about stacking Zorai on each others' shoulders. She chuckled quietly. He was still trying to find a way to the land that crisscrossed over their heads. Maybe he would have an answer by the time he awoke. She closed her journal and put it back into her bag. The morning light sparkled on the waters of Shining Lake. A pack of torbaks topped the hill across the water and let out a long howl, which was answered somewhere to the south, near the cratcha field, with a lone call. She couldn't see them, but she could hear the small mektoub herd spook into a run.
Leaning back onto the rising root behind her, she closed her eyes to steal another moment of peace before beginning her day.
I should be asleep, but I cannot seem to find peace enough in my mind to attain it any longer. The sun is rising, and it's beautiful across the water. The scent of flowers is strong in the air, and the newer cray hatchlings are particularly curious and playful.
The past few days have been nothing short of flustering, wonderful, and enlightening in every way imaginable. Last night was particularly so. Many familiar faces, for many of the islands inhabitants become familiar to me when I offer so much of my assistance, set out on their journey to the mainland, and to their respective peoples' cities. More than a few of them did so wearing something fashioned by my hands. I'm a little proud of that; there's nothing wrong with a little pride, I work hard, afterall.
Gyles is still asleep in the tent behind me. If you can call it a tent. It's little more than a particularly sizable torbak hide drapped over one of the protruding roots. It was the only dry spot to be had in the recent storms, and it allowed for a lovely view of the water, along with the peacefulness of isolation from the camp. I've done more simple sitting and just reflecting in the past two days than I have in the past three seasons. I'm thankful to him for that.
I was so flustered by my own promises to help so many in such a small time; Gyles' assistance was nothing less than a godsend. He was patient, where I wanted to scream. He helped me with the nodes I needed, he let me weigh him down with kitin shells and stingers that I couldn't manage while working with so many other materials. And he saved my life no less than twice in the jungles.
That's what I get for trying to show off. I wanted to show him something new, so I took him to the Kirosta's lair. We left it alone, but I wanted him to see it. The kitin are frightening, but still a wonder of Atys that we've had little exposure to, thank Jena. The kipesta were particularly riled. I promised him, before we went on the trip, that he'd come out of it unscathed - as much as possible there, that is - and he did. I took a little more of a roughing up than I'm accustomed to, but it was bound to happen. My armor isn't very heavy at all, and I refuse to put a bucket on my head.
Today is another day. I told Gyles I would stitch together a more proper tent today. Maybe we will camp out more often on the island on clear nights. It's peaceful. I've also planned an expedition into the jungles for myself, to see what nodes I can coax up. I have greatly improved my abilities with armor. Ta'Calc is scolding me for allowing my weaponry crafting skills atrophy.
In other news, Kyrim found his way to this camp. I wasn't sure anyone I'd known from before was still alive. Though we may tease each other mercilessly (and sometimes maliciously, it seems), I'm very glad to see him.
The pressure to head to the mainland is mounting. Is it alright for a Matis to admit she's afraid? Only in these pages for now, and only to someone I trust not to hurt me with that knowledge.
Jeziellia looked over her shoulder to where Gyles lay sleeping. He was mumbling something about stacking Zorai on each others' shoulders. She chuckled quietly. He was still trying to find a way to the land that crisscrossed over their heads. Maybe he would have an answer by the time he awoke. She closed her journal and put it back into her bag. The morning light sparkled on the waters of Shining Lake. A pack of torbaks topped the hill across the water and let out a long howl, which was answered somewhere to the south, near the cratcha field, with a lone call. She couldn't see them, but she could hear the small mektoub herd spook into a run.
Leaning back onto the rising root behind her, she closed her eyes to steal another moment of peace before beginning her day.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
Another quiet day. Or was this my first truly quiet day? For the majority, I spent my time on the island, working over familiar nodes. I was a little surprised to turn around and see Gyles working on a nearby hillside. When I first met Gyles, his focus was on his blades. I still remember his tale of pummeling an attacking javing into unconsciousness, with his bare hands when the thing had disarmed him. Yet, when I turned, he was busily working with a vibrant, lively node.
It was something of an unspoken agreement to work in tandem when I noticed his node was becoming unstable and stepped over to calm it down. As I've written before, there's nothing quite like soothing Atys, especially with a partner whose company you enjoy.
We worked together for quite a while, digging our own nodes and alternately caring for them. In the end, we settled into a pattern where I would pull the nodes to the surface and work on extracting their materials while Gyles learned from my techniques, and bettered his own skills in caring for the node.
Eventually he had to depart, to join Wan in the jungles. It was just as well. I was exhausted from all the work. I'm still a little sore today.
I wonder what Kyrim has been up to.
Jeziellia sat with her quill poised for a few minutes more, but the words didn't come. She shook her head and closed the journal. "You don't always have to have something to say," she said aloud, but to herself. A cray next to her clicked-clacked and danced from foot to foot, in seeming sympathy. She smiled, patting it.
She stood up and tossed her satchel over her shoulder. Retrieving her pick from where it rested against the tree, she set off to work on filling a special order.
Another quiet day. Or was this my first truly quiet day? For the majority, I spent my time on the island, working over familiar nodes. I was a little surprised to turn around and see Gyles working on a nearby hillside. When I first met Gyles, his focus was on his blades. I still remember his tale of pummeling an attacking javing into unconsciousness, with his bare hands when the thing had disarmed him. Yet, when I turned, he was busily working with a vibrant, lively node.
It was something of an unspoken agreement to work in tandem when I noticed his node was becoming unstable and stepped over to calm it down. As I've written before, there's nothing quite like soothing Atys, especially with a partner whose company you enjoy.
We worked together for quite a while, digging our own nodes and alternately caring for them. In the end, we settled into a pattern where I would pull the nodes to the surface and work on extracting their materials while Gyles learned from my techniques, and bettered his own skills in caring for the node.
Eventually he had to depart, to join Wan in the jungles. It was just as well. I was exhausted from all the work. I'm still a little sore today.
I wonder what Kyrim has been up to.
Jeziellia sat with her quill poised for a few minutes more, but the words didn't come. She shook her head and closed the journal. "You don't always have to have something to say," she said aloud, but to herself. A cray next to her clicked-clacked and danced from foot to foot, in seeming sympathy. She smiled, patting it.
She stood up and tossed her satchel over her shoulder. Retrieving her pick from where it rested against the tree, she set off to work on filling a special order.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Shining Lake, near fallen Silan
I've been in contact for a while with an agent of the Order of the Dragonblades. As I've written previously, someone took notice of my work out here in Silan with my fellow refugees (though I think most of them no longer see me as their equal, but somehow apart from them). They are interested in me joining their ranks. I'm really very astonished to be noticed among the throngs of refugees, honestly. We are all generally helpful to one another.
I'm also flattered. The opportunity speaks to my Matis vanity, something I have no trouble admitting to myself. I find myself feeling rude, however, for keeping them waiting for an answer so long. I told Jelathnia just this past evening that I still consider the offer very seriously, but would like to wait until I have a chance to see the Order in the context of the world in which it exists - which I imagine to be very different than the isolated world of this island. Likewise, I should like them to have a chance to meet me.
To be honest with myself, I don't know if I will accept the offer. I think that I would like to assist the Order, regardless of my decision. Enon is not fond of the idea of neutral entities - surely each person must feel strongly for either the Karavan or the Kami - but at least he also says I must do what makes me happy. I don't know that I agree entirely with the way he feels. I certainly wouldn't fight for the Kami, but that does not mean I would kill those that would, in the name of the Karavan.
That is a dangerous thought to commit to paper, but there it is.
No more on that.
Enon has been helping me, again, more than he might imagine. I'd intended on spending my night here on the island in the middle of the lake and simply harvesting. Enon arrived and dragged me off, eventually, to assault the kitins in the jungle. I feel far more secure with my sword when dealing with them, but he encouraged me to practice my magic instead.
One step outside my comfort zone. It wasn't so bad as I imagined, but every time I see a kipesta, my hand still goes for my sword blade. Some reactions are more instinctual than others. A sword is something I can feel, and I can channel my physical strength into. It is palpable. Magic is something entirely different. It feels artificial with the amplifiers I must use in order to adequately shape the power. Maybe in time I will become more comfortable with it.
Other than that, the night was fairly quiet.
More voices, "When are you going to leave?" "Are you staying here forever?" So what if I did? I could do so much good here. I am doing so much good here.
Then I wonder how Senduin is faring. I wonder how Zenon is fitting in with his people, arriving in freshly made Matis armor. I wonder how Janelle and her friend have adapted. I wonder about so many that've made that journey. I see even more preparing themselves to go.
Enon will leave eventually, though he's made no mention of his intents to me. If it is to spare me the pressure of deciding for myself, I'm thankful to him.
Hayashibara will be leaving soon, I can sense it. He's been very generous to me, in the way of materials; a fact for which I'm very grateful. Though Zorai, I don't suspect he will stay in Zora longer than he must. Tonight he wants to show me something. I suspect I know what it is, but it will still be nice to have someone showing me something for a change.
Gyles has been busying himself. I left a letter for him with one of the messengers in the camp. I hope he checks with them. I don't know when he plans to go. I've never asked Wan or Graaf, either. Neither of them is as approachable. The three of them seem to share a bond that would keep all three if even one werent ready to leave.
Each day there are more and more refugees filtering into the camp. They are unsteady on their feet, and many of them need just a little guidance to get started on their way. Others don't understand how yet to stand on their feet. I try to help them understand the need to be self-reliant, but unafraid to ask for help when it is truly needed. I hope I'm succeeding.
I must remember that I have two homins gathering their own materials so that I can make them a suit of armor.
I havent seen Kyrim in a number of days.
I've spent far too much time sitting here writing. The rain is coming again, and the nodes will not harvest themselves.
Jeziellia
Jeziellia closed the journal and looked out across the lake waters. She was still tired, having slept fitfully. Instead of gathering her belongings and starting her day, she tucked the journal beneath her pillow and lay back down. Curled up on her side, let the slow but steady beating of the rain lull her back to sleep.
I've been in contact for a while with an agent of the Order of the Dragonblades. As I've written previously, someone took notice of my work out here in Silan with my fellow refugees (though I think most of them no longer see me as their equal, but somehow apart from them). They are interested in me joining their ranks. I'm really very astonished to be noticed among the throngs of refugees, honestly. We are all generally helpful to one another.
I'm also flattered. The opportunity speaks to my Matis vanity, something I have no trouble admitting to myself. I find myself feeling rude, however, for keeping them waiting for an answer so long. I told Jelathnia just this past evening that I still consider the offer very seriously, but would like to wait until I have a chance to see the Order in the context of the world in which it exists - which I imagine to be very different than the isolated world of this island. Likewise, I should like them to have a chance to meet me.
To be honest with myself, I don't know if I will accept the offer. I think that I would like to assist the Order, regardless of my decision. Enon is not fond of the idea of neutral entities - surely each person must feel strongly for either the Karavan or the Kami - but at least he also says I must do what makes me happy. I don't know that I agree entirely with the way he feels. I certainly wouldn't fight for the Kami, but that does not mean I would kill those that would, in the name of the Karavan.
That is a dangerous thought to commit to paper, but there it is.
No more on that.
Enon has been helping me, again, more than he might imagine. I'd intended on spending my night here on the island in the middle of the lake and simply harvesting. Enon arrived and dragged me off, eventually, to assault the kitins in the jungle. I feel far more secure with my sword when dealing with them, but he encouraged me to practice my magic instead.
One step outside my comfort zone. It wasn't so bad as I imagined, but every time I see a kipesta, my hand still goes for my sword blade. Some reactions are more instinctual than others. A sword is something I can feel, and I can channel my physical strength into. It is palpable. Magic is something entirely different. It feels artificial with the amplifiers I must use in order to adequately shape the power. Maybe in time I will become more comfortable with it.
Other than that, the night was fairly quiet.
More voices, "When are you going to leave?" "Are you staying here forever?" So what if I did? I could do so much good here. I am doing so much good here.
Then I wonder how Senduin is faring. I wonder how Zenon is fitting in with his people, arriving in freshly made Matis armor. I wonder how Janelle and her friend have adapted. I wonder about so many that've made that journey. I see even more preparing themselves to go.
Enon will leave eventually, though he's made no mention of his intents to me. If it is to spare me the pressure of deciding for myself, I'm thankful to him.
Hayashibara will be leaving soon, I can sense it. He's been very generous to me, in the way of materials; a fact for which I'm very grateful. Though Zorai, I don't suspect he will stay in Zora longer than he must. Tonight he wants to show me something. I suspect I know what it is, but it will still be nice to have someone showing me something for a change.
Gyles has been busying himself. I left a letter for him with one of the messengers in the camp. I hope he checks with them. I don't know when he plans to go. I've never asked Wan or Graaf, either. Neither of them is as approachable. The three of them seem to share a bond that would keep all three if even one werent ready to leave.
Each day there are more and more refugees filtering into the camp. They are unsteady on their feet, and many of them need just a little guidance to get started on their way. Others don't understand how yet to stand on their feet. I try to help them understand the need to be self-reliant, but unafraid to ask for help when it is truly needed. I hope I'm succeeding.
I must remember that I have two homins gathering their own materials so that I can make them a suit of armor.
I havent seen Kyrim in a number of days.
I've spent far too much time sitting here writing. The rain is coming again, and the nodes will not harvest themselves.
Jeziellia
Jeziellia closed the journal and looked out across the lake waters. She was still tired, having slept fitfully. Instead of gathering her belongings and starting her day, she tucked the journal beneath her pillow and lay back down. Curled up on her side, let the slow but steady beating of the rain lull her back to sleep.
Re: Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
A Zorai lies at the edges of the desert, battered and weary. His armor, once the finest Matis craftsmanship on Silan, is now splintered and broken by the tremendously heavy blows suffered on his trip. His injuries, physical and spiritual, seem to be grave.
Time and again he has thrown himself at the lines of the beasts that guard the entrance into Matis territory, and time and again he has lay dying from some horrible wound.
"Why have I come so far to fail?" he asks himself, thinking of the sadness in her eyes when he told her of his plans to leave. He cannot cry in the desert heat, his moisture long since gone, but in his heart he feels he has failed her and himself.
From out of the sands, a Fyros man and Matis woman appear. Wordlessly, they pick him up by each arm and help him to walk to his final destination: Yrkanis. Here he will await the arrival of the woman he has traveled so far for. Here he will prove his worth to the Matis despite stereotypes. Here, his life begins anew.
Time and again he has thrown himself at the lines of the beasts that guard the entrance into Matis territory, and time and again he has lay dying from some horrible wound.
"Why have I come so far to fail?" he asks himself, thinking of the sadness in her eyes when he told her of his plans to leave. He cannot cry in the desert heat, his moisture long since gone, but in his heart he feels he has failed her and himself.
From out of the sands, a Fyros man and Matis woman appear. Wordlessly, they pick him up by each arm and help him to walk to his final destination: Yrkanis. Here he will await the arrival of the woman he has traveled so far for. Here he will prove his worth to the Matis despite stereotypes. Here, his life begins anew.