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 Posted: Tue Nov 05, 2013 7:42 pm
It has been fifty-six days since I arrived at this place. There still seems to be little chance of departing from my current dwellings, but I will continue positive thinking for the time being. The people of this small village have been kind to me while I remain here, providing me with food and adequate shelter in return for my… abilities. It has been enough to keep me in passable health, but my concern for my companions in Tellius remains. Are they still well? How fares their struggle against the Goddess?
Pelleas looked up from his book, idly resting his quill on the table. The little square building was small, constructed from some sort of clay brick. Though window ‘holes’ had been carved into the walls, they were covered with pinned-down panels of cloth, so as to allow additional light while still preventing sand from filtering inside. He had arrived two months ago, in the middle of a sand dune. After clawing his way out and gasping for air, a pair of women clothed in fabric colored like the sea of earth found him, and ushered him to their village.
Pelleas turned back to the desk and away from the fabric flap that sufficed as a door, dipping his quill into the inkwell before continuing.
I find myself in a new conflict, as would be expected by now. It seems that I cannot avoid such conflicts, whether they are political or militarian. The country I had been transported to, as was explained to me after I was afforded a bit of water and enough rest to regain my bearings, has been torn asunder by a surge of in the bandit population. Once a gleaming desert jewel, this place called Sentria is nothing more than a dried husk. While most of its people fled the deserts to neighboring countries, particularly a place referred to as Learania, those who remain have settled around the oases that dot the vast seas of sand and bone. It is near one of such locations that the goddess seemingly felt it prudent to deposit me.
The young man sighed and cracked his knuckles, finger by finger, as he stared at the words he had already penned. He could hear people moving about outside, voices overlapping each other, children’s wordless shrieks of happiness as they played and crashed into one another. Pelleas smiled faintly as he rubbed a hand against his neck, easing the kink out. He had been resting indoors since the night before last, and he was feeling his energy return to him much faster now than it did before. It seemed that all of his time spent with Ike and the others back on Tellius had done wonders for his constitution. “How long ago was it that I couldn’t finish even half a day’s march without feeling ready to collapse?” he murmured, rubbing a hand against his forearm. He had heard worse tales of Rhys, the redheaded Bishop that nearly necessitated riding on one of the carts with Aimee or the twins in order to keep from collapsing when his indisputable healing prowess was deemed vital.
Yet, he was glad, at least, that his efforts had not been fruitless. He had fallen ill at least three times since arriving in this place – different diseases, he could only assume, that could more easily prey upon his objectively poor immune system – but his constitution and overall physical condition were stronger than ever. He felt better.
Physically, at least.
He returned to his writing.
Our arrangement, as explained in detail after being agreed upon, is still as simple as it was before; as long as I remain here, and I am capable of using my magical abilities to defend these people from bandits who would seek to abuse their lack of agency, I will be given sufficient food, water, and shelter. The generosity of these Sentrians is without end, and it is only thanks to them that I have survived as long as I have. I cannot imagine how grim my outlook would be had I not been stumbled upon by these sand-dwellers, if I had even lived to tell the tale of the day I stepped out of the planning tent before the Tower of Guidance and appeared six feet deep in the sand. I cannot remain here forever, though; that much is certain. The ability to procure proper food in such a place is extremely difficult, and I am aware that my presence is a drain on these resources. It is only a matter of time before they
He paused, lifting his quill as he heard a familiar voice from the main entrance, and he turned in his chair as the entryway curtain opened. A smile spread across his face, and he relaxed in his chair, setting the quill down. “Ah. It’s you.”
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Posted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 10:30 am
Vika hummed to herself as she collected food for the villagers. It had been a quiet life since she had arrived here, although not without a fair bit of interruption from the neighboring countries, a fact that alarmed some of the locals but Vika would continually assure them of their safety. After all, it was a desert oasis in which they resided. Nothing of value here. There were barely enough resources to support the lifestyle here, much less anything of note that anyone invading would want for themselves. The desert here reminded her of home, which helped Vika feel right at ease, and her particular heritage made her both a wonderous spectacle as well as a great asset to the locals. They knew of shapeshifters, mostly of the dragon variety, but one who could morph into a giant raven and hunt like the most skilled birds of prey, that was something completely new to them.
So, as it were, life was simple. It was a mutually beneficial existence, as the village gave her and her friend shelter, and she helped alongside the locals to ensure that everyone was fed and protected from danger. About her friend, though: he had been here for much less time than she had. In fact, it had only been a couple of months for him, although it seemed like yesterday for Vika. It wasn't every day that an old friend just fell out of the sky, and not only that but recognized you as well! She had just found him laying out in the desert, and had she not found him when she did his frail constitution coupled with the harsh environment would have done him in. It was a fated meeting, she had convinced herself, and she would do everything she could to help him as well.
Today was just an ordinary day. She would do her part to use her abilities for the good of the entire village, then she would retire to her small cottage, where she and her friend would relax and wax wistful about life back in Tellius. And, if he felt so inclined and his energy was not too drained from the taxing heat, he would continue his reading lessons with her. She had let slip that she was unable to read or write and had just been getting along with her cunning (as ravens tend to do) and he would not allow this to pass. In fairness, it was hard to keep up such an act when he would constantly show her his journals and his books, and Vika could only gaze at the unfamiliar characters with a barely understanding nod. She could not understand why a person of such influence and background would offer to help a woman such as her, but she certainly would accept his generosity.
After depositing what she had brought back, she retired to her living area, where she was greeted by Pelleas. She merely watched him in turn, smiling very slightly. "So it is," she replied. She stepped further inside, her wings folded close to her back -- the small area afforded not a lot of room for the two, much less her expansive wingspan -- and approached him to see what he was doing as curiosity got the best of her. "Working on your journals again? You should be resting, y'know. You already look pretty pale." She dropped her pack by a nearby chair and sat down in it. "We're good for food for a few days," she informed him. "It's getting harder to find food, though, so I'm hoping things are gonna look up soon. If this keeps up, I don't know what we'll do."
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Posted: Tue Dec 03, 2013 6:52 pm
Pelleas nodded slowly as Vika spoke, lifting the quill again in order to finish his entry in the journal laid out before him. His hand moved rapidly across the page, adding further neat cursive; Izuka had insisted upon teaching it to him, given his assumed role as the heir to the throne of Daein in the past.
either tire of my presence here or run out of the resources in which to help me in my attempts to hold onto lodging and dietary needs. Vika, a friend from Tellius, has inexplicably found her way here as well, which I fear will only further strain their abilities to keep both their people and us kept safe. She seems to have been here considerably longer than I-- given her descriptions, at least four summers have passed since her arrival in this place, though she still remained in Tellius when I departed! Such strange things have happened, and they still have no answers. I can only hope I will be able to seek them out in the future, though my current priority will be to find more reliable safety for these people before seeking my departure from this desert. ~
"Working on your journals again? You should be resting, y'know. You already look pretty pale."
Pelleas let the pages remain open for the time it took him to close his inkwell and set his quill aside. He then closed the leather-bound book, pushing it back slightly on the desk. Well, he called it a desk; it was more a collection of crates stacked up in a way to suffice as a writing surface, but it did the job nicely. "I'm done with writing for today, Vika. My health could stand the bit of mental exertion, you know." He smiled faintly, nodding slowly at her reports after that.
"I'm not sure, either. The bandits come more often nowadays, as if they're amassing somewhere nearby. We don't have the resources to simply scout, however, and it's too easy to get lost in the dunes. The oasis still has more than enough water, but no one can live on water alone..." Pelleas rested a hand against his chin, frowning faintly as he thought back to Tellius. "If only Volug or even Queen Nailah were here... They would know more about locating supplies within such a harsh environment..."
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