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Canon The Journal of Elinia E'sur

LiraKitty

Lord of Altera
(Upon her person Eli always carries a small, black leather-bound book. These are the pages contained within. Entries will be removed, entries will be added. This is a record of the journal she keeps in character and so it is bound to consistently change.)

It is amazing how sometimes a single mishap can lead to amazing fortune. I arrived at Storm’s Landing today in search of the god touched one, Maceo De’Courtnay. In my wanderings I ended up in the local tavern in search of a quiet place in which to write down news of my journey there which I now can hardly remember in my excitement. As I walked along to the nearest table I managed to find myself tripping over my own feet and broke my newest ink jar. I fell into my seat and pulled out the ruined notes and handkerchief only to find a kindly man offering his assistance.
His appearance was quite frightful at the first, nothing could have quite braced me for the encounter but his eyes are somewhat warm and and he manages to convey kindness even through his well scarred countenance. It took all I had not to reach out a hand in comfort, to ask if it pained him but somehow I feel he may have found this gesture to be offensive and accused me of false pity or something of the sort. Of course, he would not have been too terribly far from the truth, though it is not pity that drove me but rather a profound curiosity. I have never seen a man bearing so many signs of terrible damage who was not shortly after laid in a coffin and buried beneath the dirt but there he stood, magnificent to say the least.
Finding my curiosity quite peaked with the stranger I offered him a seat at my table, completely forgetting what I had come for in the first place. He agreed and we began to converse about the subject matter of my current studies. Although rather embarrassed, as most do not even believe in the pantheon let alone truly worship any longer, I explained my eagerness to determine if these new anomalies were somehow gifted to us by the gods. Naturally I expected him to scoff and laugh me off but, much to my surprise, he simply smiled and spoke one word. “God.” It had not occurred to me to inquire as to the identity of the man sitting across from me until that very moment and so it came to be that I learned my own misfortune had lead me straight to the very man I had been seeking, the young lion, Maceo De’Courtnay.
I did not hesitate to tell him how eager I was to procure his story, no need to lie now is there, and he has graciously offered me the privilege of traveling with him and his companion, Pod. Words cannot possibly express just how overjoyed I am to have been given this opportunity, to witness firsthand the workings of Ignis. If this man is all that people say he is there may be hope for us after all my dear brother. All that will be left is to find you. Until then may you stay safe and warm.

Forever Yours,
Eli​

-===-
The market of Thorne is a loud and bustling place filled with vivid colors and a myriad of smells, some good, some bad. It truly overwhelms the senses all of the coming and going, yelling and whispers, so many bodies all shoved into one place. I find myself loathing and delighting in it all at once. I want to draw it for you my brother, I know you would love it, all of those secrets laid bare in subtle hues of black and white. It never ceases to amaze how people bare themselves when they are in a crowd without ever realizing they are doing so, reveling in freedoms they do not dare touch in the confines of their solitary homes. Take the young lion for instance, so proud, even now, though he does not realize it.
He weaves through the stalls with a casual ease, greeting and speaking with others with graceful confidence. He calls out thieves in their own tongue, overconfidence or bravery, who is to tell? When watching him you would never guess the manners of his disfigurements, he holds himself well, a truly admirable subject if ever there was one. I do fear that he is a bit too trusting in his overconfidence but all flaws may be tempered with time, just as the finest steel. I have yet to witness any sign of Ignis’ touch upon the man but yet I find myself believing that this is a man worthy of divine favor. Only time will tell I suppose and I have plenty of that to spare without you by my side. Sadly I find myself lost within this cacophony of chaos once again and must leave you for now. I miss you brother, may we speak again soon.

Forever Yours,
Eli​

-===-

(Several pages appear to have been carefully torn from the small leatherbound tome here.)

-===-

Compendium, large and magnificent, rumored to hold the most grandiose collection of literary works we have left to us after having fled the old continents. It is beautiful at first, tranquil and stoic. Sunlight dances brilliantly from it’s rooftops as birds flit and sing amongst the plentiful gardens filling the air with sweet scents and even sweeter songs but it is all just a facade really. This place, like so many others, is nothing more than another empty shell built upon false promises. I came seeking knowledge and found, to my bitter disappointment, scraps and fragments. If this is truly all the knowledge the world has left to offer I am terribly afraid of what the future may hold for us. Maceo was right, it is indeed all nonsense.
I have walked through the vast cavern they call the Athenaeum. I have run my fingers along its shelves and poured through tome after endless tome only to find vague hints and whispers of the knowledge I seek. Most of what I find is fanciful stories you tell to children, or incomplete and outdated research papers, all so incredibly useless. I like to tell myself Tambry had a better collection but if I am to be quite honest I am uncertain these days. My mind yearns and hungers to be filled yet I find no sustenance here, no more so than I did there at the least.
It is times like this that I miss you the most my dear brother. I long to hear your voice reining in the restless tempest that consumes me. To feel the touch of your hand on my shoulder pulling me back from the precipice before I dive headlong into the madness that threatens to devour all that I am and all that I ever shall be. Do you think of me wherever you are? Do you sometimes stare up at the same moon as I and take comfort in the fact that I must be basking in its cool and soothing light somewhere? Are you even still alive? These questions plague me day after day and night after night. More so in this damnable place with it’s empty halls and broken promises.
I do have one glimmer of hope, a single name, Hawklight. It’s as good a place to start as any I suppose.

Forever Yours,
Eli​
 
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