#kophon

The snow recedes from the mountaintops as the days grow longer, the pines rustle as the evening wind weaves through the grove. Out there, Tholyak lazily grazes on the green pastures bellow the stead, and further down bellow the lake shines as it gathers the last of the sunset’s glow… a picture, drawn by the most beautiful colors I know, and it’s most beautiful hues are found here beside me, Drae’s bedraggled curly head resting upon his pillow. 

I’ve come home. My heart still soars in places higher than the surrounding peaks, though it is stays quite aware of the plunging drop of loneliness and longing that built these heights. I missed him. Homecoming is beginning to be as sour as it is sweet as I hold the thought it is but a matter of time until once more, the roads come between us.

Though I am far from the desert, the memories still linger freshly in my mind. Sights, smells, voices… all my illustrations, descriptions and sketches fail to capture the wonders of those lands Hamish & I traversed.

South of the great bone walls that define Joko’s Domain, the very grains of the earths turn a blaring yellow, Junundu Wurms raise their brightly hued heads in sulfurous pits between the crags. Sighting the Raptured Heart defeated any sense of awe I think I might have felt in all my years of wandering, indeed - we nearly died trying to get near it, then nearly died as we fought our way out, that image of the abyss forever seared into our minds. We journeyed further yet, witnessing relics of the Forgotten along the path. Eventually we even infiltrated the shadow of the Bone Palace itself.

Weathering hazardous trails we managed to reach our final destination - at long last we walked beneath Vabbian sky, and the land we found was a bittersweet song to it’s ancient, tarnished glory. Enormous statues of Joko lay their oppressive shadows on every emerald courtyard, and while the azure domes of the Kodash Bazaar still rule the very horizon, the old market beneath them lies shattered by Kralkatoric’ss passage. 

It is a sad, vicious scar upon the province that was once known as The Garden of Lyss, and Hamish & I could not negotiate a way through it - thus denying my decades old dream of treading upon the marble stairs of the Halls of Chokhin. Perhaps somewhere beyond the Brand The Mirror of Lyss still collects the light of the star drenched sky each night. I would like to believe at least some of the old beauty lingers.

‘Your spirit seem familiar, somehow…’  a ghost whispered, stirring my imagination about the past and the tales of my ancestors. That war-weary Ascalonian, that gentle theatre loving Vabbian merchant.

My private following venture to Istan unfortunately proved fruitless, a storm left the - admittedly rather questionable vessel I boarded in a poor condition, that and an unforeseeable stir among the local corsairs saw that we didn’t make it near the shore. Through staying on deck in the driving rain I did steal a glimpse of the city that is now called Palawadan , but is still remembered to some under a different name, and a freer sun... a dark, soulless husk, a shadow against the building storm.

It’s hard to believe all this was but… eleven days ago? That I’m finally back. 

Day by day I’m regaling Drae & Koph, and well, any who would listen with tales of Elona. Henrik all but kicked us out of Vanjir’s Stead the other day for claiming I was starting to give him a headache. 

Melitta,

Thank you so much for lending me aid through your abilities. I admit that I couldn’t quite imagine us succeeding in divining a shred of a clue, yet you managed to plunge through the veil of time for us to truly decipher the recent events. You set me on the path to a dear, long lost friend - and for that you have my everlasting gratitude.

I write to share that we successfully located Kophon in Lion’s Arch harbor. Weary and weak as could be expected, she now rests in our home and Dwayna be kind, her strength will be soon restored.

My warmest regards to you and Drake, 

Joan

Attached beneath the scroll was a small, graceful carving of a dolphin, inflicted on the flesh of a silvery grained driftwood with the knot relief often used in Norn totems . A cord of soft, bright hued leather threaded through a hoop on it’s back.

The festive Divinity’s Reach greeted me as an unfamiliar, yet beautiful, stranger. Had the Commons ever been capable of appearing this charming? I never suspected the potential. Yet under the shimmering blanket of snowfall the old places transform.

The stunted roofs and chimneys of the Busted Flagon, the lush Melandru Park… I was content here, once, for all the troubles, brawls and bad business on my friends’ part… I was content. I held just the right measures of blunt optimism and pride to carve a name for myself, just the right quantity of luck to fall in with the right folk to back me up against all the trouble that merited. The days sped by, all pulled into balance by the familiar weight of the blade hanging down my back. Truly it was not that long a stretch of time, but a defining one still. 

Perhaps I changed, just as much as the city, and I return to her as much a stranger as she is to me. Yet here I am... yearning to go forward, I went back.

I discussed a passage to Istan aboard ‘The Spirit’ - a vessel crewed by Norn sailors ambitious enough to be willing to brave Joko dominated waters. It is a risky trail but I crave it... a new, ancient land beckons. More than anything I want to tear myself away from old places and old faces. Wintersday Eve was far too touched with nostalgia, and I refuse to entertain old ghosts any longer.

I go forward.

My fingers struggle writing this, being afflicted by numerous sores and blisters due to this year’s gift-making spree. My Hoelbrak cultured wood carving ability yielded much better results this year, and noting that spurred me to carve more and for more people than I usually did... until lastly I found myself carving two more figurines. One Desert Lop, and one Hydra.

To go forward I thought, I must go back. And back I went - to Alf’s old place.

And that’s how I discovered it wasn’t there…. my last Wintersday’s gift to Kophon, the carved beads bracelet - very much not there. 

Alfredon’s gift and letter were, but not Kophon’s… Dwayna… I am going insane.

Every time I come by there is a small change to be spotted, nothing grand - a bread baker opened a stall right outside the grocer’s shop, and the tavern boasts of a brand new third story... I write this as I sit on the wharf, sheltered by the shade of a new boathouse. Place smells pleasantly of sawdust... bit by bit, Rue’s settlement’s grown from a gaggle of cabins hugging the shoreline. It is now becoming known as Port Songbird, and unlike that old, hidden grotto, it is exposed to the sun and bracing sea-wind... and Gods - many, so many seagulls.

Truly, I expected a longer respite after all those months away in Elona, and this time of the year was ever the best time to return to Lornar’s, when the hills are a bright emerald and the daylight lasting. Drae left the family worries behind in Kryta, and I wasn’t planning to go anywhere. All for the sake of sleeping in together, taking lazy strolls by the lake - before one pushes the other in, or planning to tackle grandiose recipes before just giving up and settling for the same old, half arsed noodles stew dinner.

Well, so much for that - Stojhana’s visit of over a week ago all but squeezed Tyria back in through the homestead’s front door.

Alfredon lives. Selden, Shilci & Rue scouted him, briefly, before once again losing trace of him and the companion he travels with. A rather worrying companion, actually, if one is to believe my Selden’s theories regarding it. Still - Dwayna preserve, although hostile and strange, he lives. I had no proof of his survival since losing the battle for the Sanctuary. 

It’s been years - of course he’s changed.

Our other new revelations all derive from the remnants of the IMP getting located on an island north of Port Songbird - and within them, Nhimo and Ijjii - apparently all that is left of the old Krewe. Through that discovery we learned the fate of many of the missing Songbird & Krewe members. 

I penned down a list of the names and what we know in the previous page, but that cannot reflect what I see around me. I wouldn’t know how to write what I see... how can one describe Selden’s forlorn grief over Tenalu, or Arduan’s rekindled hope for the chance we might retrieve her old captain... Draegoren’s cautious hope for Releki making it, my own sadness as I remember Odrick... what was left of all our old shenanigans? An old carnival scarf, and echoes of badly made rhythms. With Tolivris gone as well, who else will miss that old irksome Charr?

Though there is an odd comfort in knowing.

Will this finally be closure? Will this finally turn the page from the past two years of grieving for unknown fates?

The brass key turned with a click in the rusty lock and the door creaked open. 

It’s been a full year since she last walked the streets of the Reach, for what was here for her anymore? Nothing... the Wintersday Ball, Galleries Opening, her stroll through the Ossan market... these were all frivolous distractions from the clear truth. She stepped across the threshold, moving from a world of bright enchanted snowflakes fluttering down upon alley cobbles to dust coated floorboards and the overruling darkness in a long vacated entry hall.

It was a shabby place - even before all the dust settled in, it was shabby… she still remembered how three winters ago an irreparably stubborn kid reassured her he was doing alright, as he found a household to pilfer blankets from for his newly found home... the raven haired woman sighed and turned an abandoned look about the hallway, her left arm hooked around two cloth wrapped bundles, hugging them close to her form.

Always she seems too detached, walking in and out of crowds she would never feel she belonged to, it is that part of her that remembers how she did use to belong… 

One gauntleted hand moved to distractedly trace the spine of the spear, leather shod fingers hovering carefully over the deep blue strand of cloth tied around its middle, without even looking she could find the tie.

Was there a thing such as soulmates? She could not know, or prove it. But could she believe it? A soft knowing smile curled her lips.