After the silence

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[at the Andaleh/Syldithas/N’Vea residence, two days after it was broken into]

Home.

It was supposed to be someplace safe. Somewhere you could go to relax, to be surrounded by your loved ones, to see comfort.

But as Ëlinyr swept up the ashes and shards of metal scattering the basement floor around the printing press, she didn’t feel as safe as she used to in her little house in the Green District. In fact, she felt much the opposite.

The Silence had been here. In her house. They’d destroyed the plates for this month’s issue of the Diamond City Times. (Thank god they didn’t destroy the press itself; Alair would have been devastated.) She didn’t want to think about what could have happened if she were home, or if Alair were. After all, they’d killed Robin, one of the people working with Alair on the paper, because she had a copy of it. Thankfully, she was able to be resurrected, but…

They had been here. In her home. And they could just as easily come back.

At least Alair was safe. Hopefully. He was safe enough to send that coded message, anyway. She hoped the Silence couldn’t find him in Isildar. It was bad enough that he’d decided to stay behind in Isildar after rescuing the Resistance leader. If something happened to him, if she lost him…

Ëlinyr didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t think about that. She pushed the upsetting thought out of her mind and tried to focus on sweeping again.

And then there was that damned mask, showing up in the entryway with that note about Ithuryn not being done yet with being the Magister. That mask gave her the chills to look at. The one time she saw Ithuryn wear it, when he’d received the note blackmailing him about disclosing his identity as the Magister… he looked intimidating. Imposing. Terrifying. Not at all like the sweet, sensitive, quiet man she knew. It was unsettling, seeing him like that. It scared her.

She had watched it burn. She lit the damned thing on fire herself! Yet there it was, on one of Ithuryn’s work benches, covered with a rag to keep it hidden from sight. How in the seven hells did it come back? Its presence puzzled her, frustrated her, worried her.

She finished sweeping the pieces of the broken printing plate and the ashes of the issues of the Times that had been destroyed by the Silence into a small dustpan, then emptied them into the trash can by the stairs leading up to the first floor. The sound of her footsteps on the concrete floor as she walked, of the metal shards clattering into the trash can, echoed around the room. She found the noise somewhat comforting. The house was so quiet lately, too quiet. Neither she nor Ithuryn were comfortable staying at the house that first night – they slept in a back room at the Adventurer’s Guild instead of going home. With everything going on, she didn’t feel safe leaving the sand dragons alone at the house, so she sent them to stay with Moira for the time being. Snowball and Umbra seemed okay with staying with Moira, and were happy to see her, but Junior didn’t want Ëlinyr to leave. It broke her heart, leaving him behind, and she almost took him back home with her, but she couldn’t bear it if anything happened to them.

However, without the sand dragons, and without Alair’s printing press noisily cranking out issues of the Diamond City Times, the house was so quiet. And the silence terrified her. It would be a little better when Ithuryn came back from his errand – she wouldn’t be alone, and there would be someone else in the house, making noise. But right now, with the house being so quiet… it felt like at any moment the Silence would come out of the shadows and attack her. And she couldn’t hum, couldn’t sing to herself, to break the silence. They would hear. They would come.

She wasn’t surprised to find herself crying. She had spent a lot of time crying over the past few days. Taking a shaky breath, she made her way up the stairs to the first floor and set the broom and dustpan down by the back door before heading outside into the garden. Relief washed over her as she heard the sounds of birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze, people out on the streets nearby.

She sat down on the steps outside the back door, took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her eyes. The comforting noises of the outside world reassured her, helped her feel a little better. Maybe she’d sit out here until Ithuryn came home. At least she would have some warning if the Silence showed up, if the world went quiet. She didn’t know what she would do if they did show up, but at least she would have some warning.

In the meantime, Ëlinyr sat and wondered when she’d feel safe in her own home again. When she would stop jumping at shadows, when she would feel comfortable alone in a quiet room. With everything going on – the Silence, the nonsense with the damned Magister mask, everything going on with Ulchabhán and her siblings and the other Feytouched, whatever worrying nonsense Flint had gotten himself into, and all the increasingly strange things happening in the city – she didn’t think she’d ever feel calm again, or feel safe again.

Chronicle, game 60

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Ëlinyr sat at the desk in the corner of the room that would eventually become her home’s library, leaning back in her well-worn desk chair, thinking to herself for a moment. The past few days had been so busy, with everything going on at the Adventurer’s Guild, that she hadn’t really had much time to set the library to order. The room wasn’t quite as organized as it could be – there were still piles of boxes everywhere, and the bookshelves were still mostly empty. She and Alair and Ithuryn were still in the process of moving into their new home in the Green District, and given how busy the three of them had been of late, the disarray was understandable. The only place in the house that was in any sort of order at the moment was the basement – Alair’s printing press and other newspaper needs were set up almost immediately once they’d purchased the house, as he needed to get the first issue of The Diamond City Times published. Ëlinyr could hear the faint noises of the printing press at work downstairs – it seemed that the first issue of the newspaper was a success, so much so that Alair was downstairs printing out a second run of the first issue to hand out in Victory Square tomorrow.  

While Alair was busy working on the newspaper downstairs, Ithuryn was busy with his own work. He sat in a plush armchair shoved haphazardly into another corner of the library, a small pile of papers resting in his lap with another pile sitting on a stack of boxes being used as an impromptu table. Ëlinyr guessed they might be notes from the murder investigation they’d been working on – he occasionally paused his reading to scribble notes down in his notebook, or to take a sip of coffee from the mug he’d set down on the stack of boxes, but otherwise he seemed entirely wrapped up in his reading. 

Thankfully, Elinyr’s desk was clear of clutter for the moment; her red journal was opened to a blank page, and she’d unearthed her favorite pen from one of the drawers of her desk. Picking up her pen, she thought for a moment about where to begin her chronicle, then started to write. 

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An unexpected reunion

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Prologue

Many years ago, before the Diamond City returned to hover over the desert, before the Great War of Flame ravaged the Jeweled Cities and the Kishari civil war threw the Ruby City into chaos, a young sun elf scholar named Ëlinyr found herself at the Royal Academy, hoping to finally be free of her mother’s influence and schemes. She was excited to learn all she could about magic, and anything else that struck her fancy. 

During her time at the Royal Academy, Ëlinyr found herself in many classes with a thinblooded elf named Ithuryn. They ended up studying for their classes together, and during that time learned a lot about each other. They both grew up in Isildar, and both shared a love of learning and studying magic. Despite their differences in social standing, they found themselves growing very close to each other, and Ëlinyr developed strong feelings for Ithuryn – which was strange for a sun elf, as they experience emotions far less intensely than the shorter-lived races. Ëlinyr was unsure how to express these feelings, as she had never felt quite like this before. She gave him a small token of her affection, a red sash, in hopes that it would remind him of her whenever he wore it.

Not too long after Ëlinyr gave Ithuryn that token of her affection, he disappeared under strange circumstances. He had been talking about trying to find the Night Market, to see if he could somehow purchase the ability to be a fierce warrior like his mother. Ëlinyr tried to talk him out of it, as she had heard stories about the Night Market – “You may think you are purchasing something,” Ëlinyr said to him, “but will end up receiving it in the most unexpected of ways. I do not trust it.” Ithuryn set out to find the Night Market anyway, and Ëlinyr never saw him again after that. She searched all of Kishar for him, and even arranged for someone to look for him in Isildar in case he had returned there for some reason, but it was as if Ithuryn had disappeared into thin air. Ëlinyr was heartbroken. She didn’t know where he had gone, and to mask the pain of losing him, she fell more deeply into her studies, excluding others from her life to the point of near-total isolation for years.

However, the world works in mysterious ways, and sometimes those we think are lost return to us at the most unexpected times…

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A new adventurer

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[This is a little story that helps introduce a new character I’ll be playing in addition to Ëlinyr in season 9 of Kishar.]

Lin’s Study was a quiet place today — the occasional customer wandered in to check out the selection of books for sale, and a pair of students from the Royal Academy were camped out at a table with cups of coffee and a pile of books. Behind the counter was the cafe’s one employee – also a student of the Royal Academy. She idly read a novel while waiting for people to come up and purchase a book or drink. The shop wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been before the civil war, but business was picking up again slowly as Kishar began to settle into its new normal.

The tiny office behind the cafe’s kitchen was only slightly less populated, at least by people. The office was dominated by a large desk heaped with books, scrolls, and loose papers, almost forming a wall around the desk’s occupant.  The person at the desk was barely visible from the doorway – only the top of their head and their pointed ears could be seen.

Behind the impressive wall of papers and books was Ëlinyr, the owner of Lin’s Study, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. She squinted through her glasses at the hastily scribbled notes on the paper for a moment, trying to decipher what she’d written so she could figure out where to file it.

“Hey, Ëlinyr?” Moira, Ëlinyr’s assistant, called from the kitchen. “There’s a rabbit hiwani here looking for some really specific folklore books, and I have no idea where to find what she’s looking for or if we even have it…” Moira poked her head into the office doorway. “Do you think you could help her? I hate to bother you about it, but you know what books we’ve got better than I do.”

Ëlinyr let out a small sigh and set down her notes — she’d figured out what project they belonged to and made a mental note to bring them back with her to the Diamond City — and went to meet this rabbit hiwani. This will hopefully be quick, and then I can get back to organizing my notes, she thought to herself as she made her way to the front counter. A short, black-and-white furred rabbit hiwani wearing clothes in various shades of blue was waiting there for Ëlinyr.

“Moira said you were looking for some specific folklore books?” Ëlinyr smiled at the rabbit hiwani, noticing her nervousness. There weren’t often hiwani at Lin’s Study aside from the members of House Lacewing, and the rabbit looked as if she felt out of place.

“Um, yes – do you happen to have any folklore that focuses on hiwani from the Sun Peaks?” the rabbit asked, her voice quiet. “I’m trying to find a book that my grandmother used to read to me when I was a child. It was full of stories about a rabbit who lived in the mountains and went on adventures.”

Ëlinyr thought for a moment, trying to remember if she’d gotten that book recently – it certainly sounded familiar… “Let me look in the collection of books yet to be processed – I think I just might have it. The Tales of the Brave Mountain Rabbit, right?”

The rabbit hiwani’s face lit up with a smile. “Yes, that’s it! I couldn’t remember the name, just what the stories were about.”

“I’m almost certain I found a copy of it recently – let me go check.” Ëlinyr hurried back to her office and made for a pile of books in a corner – the “collection” of books yet to be processed – and dug through the volumes haphazardly stacked there. She found what she was looking for almost at the bottom of the pile – a well-worn copy of The Tales of the Brave Mountain Rabbit.

“I was right!” Ëlinyr called out as she headed back out to the front of the shop, book in hand. The rabbit let out a little gasp and bounced up and down with excitement.

“Oh, thank you so much!” she said, reaching out for the book. Ëlinyr handed it to her with a smile, and the rabbit flipped through the pages, occasionally stopping to look at an illustration. “It’s just as I remember Grandmama’s copy – even the pictures are the same!”

Ëlinyr couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad I had it in stock.”

“How much do I owe you for it?” the rabbit hiwani asked, then rummaged around in her bag for a moment.

“It’s yours – consider it a gift,” Ëlinyr said. “As an adventurer myself, seeing someone’s excitement over tales of adventure always makes me smile, and I can clearly see how much this book means to you.”

“Wait, you’re an adventurer?” the rabbit said, pausing her search through her bag to look up at Ëlinyr.

“Oh yes,” Ëlinyr said with a laugh.  “Not necessarily a very good one, mind you, but I’m a member of the Adventurers Guild. My name’s Ëlinyr.”

The hiwani’s eyes went wide as Ëlinyr introduced herself. “I’ve heard of you! Scholar Ëlinyr, who helped defeat the Flame Lord! A friend of mine took some of your classes at the Royal Academy and told me all about you!”

Ëlinyr turned a little red in embarrassment. “Depending on how long ago that friend took that class of mine, they may have experienced a very different version of me,” she said with a grimace. She didn’t like to think of how she was before that trip to the Night Market shortly after she began adventuring.

“Oh, they told me about how you became thinblooded, too.” Ëlinyr turned even redder as the rabbit hiwani talked. Did she somehow have fans out there? “Anyhow, I’m Santoki, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” The rabbit hiwani grinned.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Ëlinyr said. “You know, if you’re ever wanting to experience real adventures, you should go visit the Adventurers Guild, and see what we’re all about.”

“Me? An adventurer?” Santoki asked, sounding incredulous at the idea. “I’m just a little rabbit from the mountains. I could never be an adventurer.”

“And yet, the book you hold in your hands is about just that – a mountain rabbit who became an adventurer.” Ëlinyr smiled. “Just think, someday there could be stories about you.”

“You really think so?” Santoki said, thoughtful. “You think I could be an adventurer?”

“Hey, if a clumsy, awkward, thinblooded elf scholar can be an adventurer, I’m sure a little mountain rabbit can be one too.” Ëlinyr grinned. “It doesn’t hurt to try, anyway – er, actually, I take that back, it might hurt a little bit, depending on what sort of adventures you find yourself on,” she said, remembering her own first adventure and her harrowing slide down a rope as she attempted to climb a wall. “Well, it won’t hurt to try so long as you don’t let Flint talk you into a stealth mission,” Ëlinyr clarified with a laugh.

“I think… I think I might go to the Adventurers Guild and check it out,” Santoki said. “Maybe I can be an adventurer.”

A new cloak

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After borrowing Kasi’s purple cloak for the final game of the season of Kishar last year, I knew I needed one of my own… so I found the pattern she used, bought some burgundy cotton duck and matching burgundy satin, and made one. By hand, because I’m crazy. (And I don’t have enough space at home to set up my sewing machine at the moment.) I’m so proud of how it turned out, and can’t wait to wear it at this season’s Kishar games! ~Beth

Chronicle, game 59

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[written the day after the battle with the Flame Lord]

I have been incredibly lax in keeping updated chronicles lately. However, I feel that maybe now is as good a time as any to start writing them regularly, especially since so much has changed in the realm recently.

A lot has happened since my last chronicle – to sum up recent events very, very briefly, someone murdered the Sultan, and as a result, the Jeweled Cities fell into civil war. The Nocturnal Empire took that as an opportunity to attack the Jeweled Cities, making things even worse. However, eventually, the civil war was put to an end – and just in time, too. As that was happening, the Flame Lord made his way to the desert to rain down fiery doom on us all. (I hope you understand now the reasons behind my lack of written updates!)

A few days ago, as the members of the Adventurer’s Guild gathered to prepare for the Flame Lord’s arrival, J’ameishut had each of us write out our wills, as a precaution. Thankfully, they were not needed, but this reinforced the seriousness of the task awaiting us. To be completely honest, it showed me that I wasn’t quite ready to face death. As an adventurer, I knew I would do what needs doing, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified to my very core. I didn’t want to die. (And I still don’t.) That evening, I helped fight a wave of rogue sand dragons that made their way too close to the Outpost for comfort, then climbed into bed for some much-needed rest. After all, we were to meet the Flame Lord and his allies in battle the next day.

The next day, we started by discussing the tactics we would use to trap and defeat the Flame Lord. The members of the Guild were to lure him out towards the Diamond City by engaging his troops in battle, eventually drawing him underneath the city. Once the Flame Lord arrived, we would perform a ritual to essentially phase the Flame Lord out of existence once and for all. I volunteered to help in the ritual, as I know I wouldn’t have stood much of a chance in direct combat against the Flame Lord.

Before undertaking this, Orcus and I (and a few others) went up to the Diamond City to perform a ritual to open the city library. The ritual was successful, and Orcus and I both opened the doors to a library that’s beyond my wildest dreams. It’s so incredibly vast and full of so many books, more than one can read in a lifetime! (And many in languages I don’t know – I must fix that.)

After returning to the Outpost from the Diamond City, I was surprised (and so very pleased) to see Alair! He had stopped by the Outpost to gather interested members of the Guild to share stories and songs to raise morale before the big fight. Thankfully, I had recently found a story to share, so I brought it along and read it to the adventurers. However, my story paled in comparison to Alair’s singing – he even sang a song for me! I didn’t know he could sing, so this was a delightful surprise.

However, it was not the last of Alair’s surprises for me that day. After singing to me, Alair asked me to marry him. Me, the awkward and excitable scholar who could barely put words to paper when it came to telling him about my feelings for him. (I’m nowhere near as good with words as he is.) Of course, I said yes, although I had to try very hard not to cry with happiness when I did. Right when I think I’ve experienced the height of certain emotions, I’m surprised and overwhelmed with new depths of feelings – in this case, love.
After Alair’s proposal, I had a renewed desire to not die in battle with the Flame Lord. I was going to do my very best to survive this terrible battle, as Alair was waiting for me to come home safely. I couldn’t let my love down, and the thought of breaking his heart by not returning from this battle was unbearable.

The rest of the day was spent fighting the efreet forces, trying to keep them from breaking through the walls surrounding the Outpost. I fought very bravely, and ended up injured during the fighting, but not so much so that I couldn’t keep fighting. Sadly, the gnolls took heavy losses during the battle against the efreet. The matriarch of the Lightning Stones tribe was killed, as well as Sharp Ear, a gnoll that Blackshell had helped earlier in the year. We were able to bind their spirit to the necklace Blackshell wears, representing his small clan (of which the fallen gnoll was a member of). B’hari should be able to resurrect them when the fighting finishes.

After evening fell, the Flame Lord finally arrived at the Diamond City. Myself and other Guild members poured our magical efforts into the ritual that, with the help of the machines under the city, would phase the Flame Lord out of existence. My fellow adventurers fought to distract him until the ritual was ready. I was so very terrified that he would wipe us all out of existence before we could visit that very fate on him – but we did it! The engines worked – and made me feel quite weird indeed as the fabric of reality was torn, and the Flame Lord sucked through it – and he was gone.

After that, there was much rejoicing, and also much exhaustion on my part. Opening the grand libraries of the Diamond City, fighting the Efreet forces, banishing the Flame Lord, and getting engaged – all in one day – made me one very exhausted adventurer-scholar. And so I fell into my bed, exhausted, but ever so happy to be alive.

Today was a much calmer day, yet no less exciting. We found some constructs patrolling the city, likely awakened by a power surge from last nights’ ritual. Given that they hadn’t been activated since the last time the city had been raised from the sands of the desert, they saw us as intruders. We had to deactivate them until we can determine how to reprogram them. I’m hoping I can find more information about these constructs in the library. There has to be some documentation somewhere; it’d be silly to create something like that and not leave behind some information on how to work with them later on. That’s just asking for trouble, if you ask me.

Speaking of the library – now that things are calmer in general, I can’t wait to get into the library again and explore what’s in there! I doubt my first few trips into the stacks will be terribly productive, aside from just mapping out what’s in there. (Even that might be a tricky task, as I’m pretty sure some parts of the Diamond City’s library don’t exist in our reality). I don’t care, though, as I’ll be surrounded by books. I can’t tell you the last time I had the chance to sit down and be around books. I am so incredibly relieved that the war is over, both the civil war and the war against the Flame Lord. (I missed my books!)

Now I have to figure out what to do with myself in the immediate future. Many of the faculty members of the Royal Academy vacated the city during the civil war, taking the most precious books of the library with them. Some are in the Diamond City, but not all. I think it might be quite some time until the Royal Academy is ready to resume classes again. It is tempting to see if there is any interest in starting a school in the Diamond City and volunteer my services there. The city will soon be full of new inhabitants, and I’m sure they’ll be interested in learning more about their new home. At the very least, I can reach out to those in charge of the city and see if they require a researcher to help gather information about the city. (After all, researching is something I excel at!)

Until I know more about what I should be doing, I suppose I’ll wander the library, researching those constructs, and daydreaming of my upcoming wedding. After all, someday soon, I’ll be Ëlinyr Syldithas, scholar of the Royal Academy and adventurer, married to Alair Syldithas, poet of the Liminal Circle. (Ëlinyr Syldithas has a nice ring to it, I think – much better than Ëlinyr Andaleh…)

A portrait of the adventurer

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For Halloween, I went to a party at J and Kasi’s dressed as Ëlinyr, and at one point ended up borrowing a cloak from J’s costume closet because I was freezing cold. J took some photos of me in the cloak, and I loved how they turned out – and ended up inspired to do a portrait of Ëlinyr wearing the cloak with her usual “stealth” dress. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. ~Beth
ElinyrPortraitFinal.png

Feelings

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[Excerpt from Ëlinyr’s journal]

I’m not sure I’ll ever become entirely used to having feelings.  For roughly 90 years of my life, I was able to control them to the point of not feeling anything, and now I’m almost overwhelmed with emotions. Happiness from seeing how excited Junior is to see me when I get home from a day of teaching, anger when I hear of some injustice happening in the world that I wish I could fix, fear at the fact that despite the civil war ending, we still have an incredibly fearsome foe (who I dare not name) to face. How do races other than elves deal with it? How do they not simply go mad?

Then again, I guess they don’t control and suppress their emotions as sun elves do, and are likely quite used to feeling things, so I doubt it’s as much of an issue with them as it is with me at this point. I must ask Alair at some point how he’s dealt with having feelings and emotions.

Oh gods, speaking of feelings and Alair…

I’ve had dalliances in the past, but they were typically brief – and never involved feelings.  After all, I was a sun elf, remember?  Even if emotions were involved, they weren’t expressed. (Well, except for that one time with… no, it’s still too painful to talk about.) But now, there are feelings when it comes to Alair. I find myself growing more and more attached to this man, this poet with an amazing gift for words. I often find myself reading through the poetry he sends in his letters (which I’ve collected in a lovely wooden box I found at a shop in the Copper District before all this civil war nonsense broke out). When I receive a letter from him, it’s the highlight of my day – and when our paths cross in person, I delight in every moment we get to spend together. When I’d received a letter from Telovere, telling me Alair had gone missing while trying to retrieve information on Taslima’s forces, the fear and worry that fell upon me almost literally hurt. Alair was in trouble, and if something were to happen to him, I don’t think could bear it.

And of course I went to rescue him. I had to. I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to him because I didn’t act. B’hari and Flint and others in the Guild helped me – after all, I’m  just a thinblooded elf scholar, and while I’ve gotten better at fighting, I can’t take on a large number of enemies myself. When we’d finally broken through the Nocturnal Empire’s forces (who’d imprisoned the members of the Sultan’s Might encamped by House Khazad, as well as Alair and others who the Sultan’s Might had imprisoned), and I caught sight of him, I realized that I would do anything to keep him safe. Even though I’m just a thinblooded elf scholar. And when we rescued him, I felt such overwhelming relief. He was safe, and after undoing his bonds, when I looked into his eyes, for a few moments, it felt like all was right in the world. (Until I remembered that we were in the middle of a civil war, and then all those other emotions came crashing in.)

Is that what love is? Or part of what love is? I have no idea, as I don’t think I’ve ever felt it before.

Good gods, am I in love with Alair?

And if I am, how do I tell him this?

I’ve studied magic for decades. I fight alongside the members of the Adventurers Guild, and can rain down meteors on my enemies. I’ve raised a sand dragon as a pet. I’ve even managed to successfully lead armies into battle against Taslima’s forces. And yet when it comes to love, I’m still as clueless as a first year student in Introduction to Evocations at the Royal Academy. I have no idea how to tell someone I experience intense emotions for them, and quite possibly love them, without being blunt and academic about it. And that’s not romantic at all, I’m sure.  I may not be experienced in love, but from observation, I know what not to do, at least.

If I dwell on this much more, I might cry from frustration. I wish I knew what to do, other than write a note that says simply “I love you, and I hope that doesn’t scare you away”, as I don’t know if he feels the same towards me.

Gods, emotions are the worst at times.  I mean, feeling emotions and being able to express them is still better than being a sun elf and at the mercy of my mother’s whims (and oh gods do I have a story about my mother to write at a later date, suffice it to say that Obeah made my last interaction with her far more bearable than the one where she disowned me), but damn, it is so very rough at times to deal with these feelings. I mean, at one point I was so scared for Alair and so overwhelmed that I almost started crying. In front of the other guild members. Crying. In front of Flint and B’hari and Obeah and everyone else. I was so afraid for Alair, and worried about what might be happening to him at that very moment.

Oh gods.

I think maybe I am in love with Alair.

Another letter to Alair (pre-game 58)

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note: At the point in time when Ëlinyr is writing this letter, the city of Kishar has broken out in civil war and the surrounding Jeweled Cities are also experiencing various stages of unrest. Isildar, the home city of Ëlinyr and her fellow adventurer Flint, has been destroyed, and things are rather unsettled in the realm as of late. Ëlinyr, who has kept up somewhat regular communication with Alair up until the war broke out, writes this letter in hopes that her dear friend is alright.

——-

Alair,
I hope this letter finds you, and finds you well, considering all that is going on in Kishar as of late. I apologize for not having reached out sooner, but given the general unrest in the Jeweled Cities, I’ve had a lot going on. I hope you understand – and I hope you are alright.

I’m sure by now you’ve heard the news about Isildar. I’m unsure if you have family there, but if you do (and if you’re on better terms with them than I am with my own family), I hope they are safe and well. I’m unsure of where my mother is at right now, or if she’s even alive. While she disowned me the last time we saw each other, and while we’ve never had a good relationship, I do wonder if she is alright. She is the only family member I have left, after all. I feel sadder about the destruction of the Pearl City than I do about the potential loss of my mother – I did grow up there, after all, and I’m honestly afraid of what I’d see if I were to return.

I’m unsure if you’ve heard the most recent news about the Docks District – the chapterhouse of the Adventurers’ Guild there was burned down, and one of the members of the guild was captured by Taslima’s forces. She’s now in control of an entire quarter of the city, from what I have heard, and that makes me a little nervous. While I know the Scholars’ District is safe for the time being, I still worry about the Royal Academy and my little shop as well. I hope they both remain standing for me to return to when everything calms down.

I’ll keep this letter short – I’m not even sure if it will find its way to you. If you do receive this letter, please let me know that you’re alright – I’m currently staying at the Outpost, with a number of other members of the Guild, and letters sent to the Outpost will find their way to me, I’m sure.

Please stay safe.

-Ëlinyr

A letter to Alair, and further adventures in pet ownership

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Dear Alair,

Thank you again for sending along a copy of the story you read to those of us gathered at the Adventurer’s Guild recently. Also, I feel it cannot be said enough – you have a great talent for storytelling – perhaps sometime in the future, I will have the opportunity to hear you share another story.

Speaking of stories, I have included a copy of my chronicles of my adventures – I will admit that I’d thought of redacting some of the more personal entries, but I later realized that my inner thoughts may lend more context to the events detailed in my notes, so I left them in.  I hope they won’t cause you to think negatively of me.

I admit to being curious to know more about you – I have never met another thinblooded elf before, quite possibly due to my mother not wanting to acknowledge the existence of of sun elves who were not pure. (The gods know she went to great lengths to conceal my own impure lineage – she never told a soul that my father was human, since I could pass as a full sun elf until my recent visit to the Night Market.)

Please excuse my handwriting mistakes – my overly enthusiastic pet sand dragon feels I’ve apparently spent enough time wrtiting, so I will end my letter here.
I trust you are doing well, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,
Ëlinyr

—-

“Junior! Look at the mess you’ve made of this letter,” Ëlinyr said, looking down at the excited juvenile sand dragon, who started wagging his tail. “Every time you nudged my arm, you messed up my handwriting. I was trying to keep it neat for Alair.” She sighed and read over the letter, noticing things she should have added in, but was a little too distracted by Junior to fully finish her thoughts.

“I guess this will have to go as is, as I’ve no more time to write a second letter tonight, and I’m sure you won’t leave me in peace to write even if I did,” Ëlinyr said to Junior, and reached out a hand to pat his head. “You want to go for a walk, don’t you?”

The sand dragon waggled his tail even more and opened his mouth in what looked like a grin, then scrambled off to go get the harness and lead Ëlinyr used for walking him. At least he’s smart enough to get his leash himself, Ëlinyr thought to herself, and got up from her desk to prepare to walk her scaly little companion.

note: the handwritten version of Ëlinyr’s letter is here: page 1 page 2