On the Festival of Passing

[Esmerelda]

Her vigil began before the dawn. Kneeling in the snow, her tattered cloak gathered about her, Esmerelda faced towards Haven and began her preparations. Two long months in exile, and her grief was still as fresh as on that horrible night. Waking every day to the same emptiness, that same hole in her spirit where her twin-born used to be. Caressing the bracelet on her wrist, she whispered, "oh, Aeric, I'm so lost without you. Why did you have to leave? You were the one who always made father proud, not me. You should be the one to carry on his legacy. And I was so mean to you that last day..." As the scence replayed itself over in her mind, she let loose the sobs that she'd tried to contain for so many days. Everyone else was still asleep in their exile's camp, she hide time to mourn. She knew that her constant tears were wearing on those around her, but how could she stop? Aeric had been everything to her since their birth. Most of the time, they didn't even need words to communicate. How could anyone else understand?
As she braided pine boughs together, she contemplated the dagger Gol had given her. The edge was nearly worn away, but it would be sharp enough for her needs. One swift cut would be all that it would take. And then she and Aeric could be together again. "Aeric, I'm so afraid. I don't know what to do. I'm afriad to die, I don't want anymore pain. But I'm afraid to live. How can I go on without you? And yet, for two miserable months, I have lived without you. I'm so confused..." She weighed the possibilites in her mind. What would become of her friends if she were gone? Who would help Teela find the heir for the Avyana? Who would make sure no one took advantage on Eilonwy during one of her visions? Who would look after Gol and Em? And Atrum...
"Things worth living for." She laughed bitterly as she recalled his words. "Only to be taken away when you let yourself care."
Locked in turmoil, she continued to weave her wreath of remembrance...

[Kalphoenix]

A warm, furry body seats itself next to Esmerelda, her dark and matted fur highly visible in the snow. It appears that she has just returned from one of her scrounging and hunting sojourns, some dry sticks poking out of her satchel.

"Care." The jackal-girl says, softly, and gently noses Esmerelda's arm.

[Eilonwy]

Not far away, the young seer is not among the sleeping. Standing watch instead, or so the youth justifies. The faint sounds of Esmerelda's bitter grief increase the sense of helplessness.

What she needs I cannot give... He is gone with so many others.

An observer might mistake the expression for a fierce smile in the dark, but not for long. Teeth clenched in a grimace of pain and anger, tears long kept at bay for the others' sakes stream down silently, marring the remnants of the blue face-paint.

Could anything have changed had I been there? Yes, fool. Thy own corpse among the slaughtered, pathetic as thou are. And yet...

The thoughts of not truly knowing are enough to torment along with the guilt. As for helping the evacuees, what had happened? There was a vague memory of being kidnapped and after, only the pain of wounds whose source was not remembered upon waking. Waking among so many bodies...

The beast-girl's voice is barely heard but the seer relaxes, hoping Esmerelda will be soothed.

At least someone had the brass to approach her... Unlike this coward.

Silent as these thoughts trail off into incoherent emotion, the seer continues the "watch".

[Esmerelda]

With a deep sigh, Esmerelda turns to the jackal-girl. "I don't want to care anymore. About anything. I cared for my brother more than anything else in the world, and now he's gone. But the pain- it just goes on and on, it never stops. I thought I was sad when my mother died, but it is nothing compared to this. There's an emptiness inside me that just never goes away. If this is what losing someone you care that much about does to you I don't want it. But how do you stop when you've already started caring for someone?"
In frustration, she stabs her dagger into the frozen dirt. "And why am I ranting at you? You don't care. At least, you shouldn't. I make poor decisions that only seem to end in pain for all those invovled."
Pulling the dagger out of the ground, Esmerelda goes back to contemplating the keeness of the blade. "Maybe it would be better if I just went away...."

[RenLightfoot]

**There is a shuffling in the darkness. As the moon shifts from beneath a cloud, it's light hits upon a lone, pale figure standing knee deep in a snow drift not ten feet from where Eilonwy stands the watch. The figure stands so still, and is so white it could easily be mistaken as a statue carved from the moonlight itself. The moment stretches in silence until the clouds pass back over the moon, and darkness swallows the figure again.**

[Eilonwy]

The youth turns slightly at the shuffling noise, stiffening at the sight of the pale figure in peripheral vision, and relaxing again upon recognition. There is a hasty and somewhat angry swipe at the tears and the white-maned head turns away.

[RenLightfoot]

**He continues to stand still, when the moon comes back out the light shows him to be Ren, but without the characteristic red, black, and white makeup, in fact he isn't wearing anything at all. He continues to stare blankly into the distance.**

[Eilonwy]

Wondering at the Valkyn'Vi's return after separating on the trail is a welcome distraction from heavier thoughts. Even his state of undress is oddly comforting; it brought back the carefree days of being raised in trees and moonlight, unfettered by the trappings of civilization. That was before being brought to the youth's father. Mother always was a strange and wild thing...

Watching him out of the corner of blue-eyes, the seer feels a spark of envy - and admiration at the primal beauty of the scene. However, there is also the question of his health in such cold, and so the outer grey cloak is removed as the youth cautiously approaches him to offer it.

[RenLightfoot]

**As she approaches, he remains completely still. When she reaches him, and attempts to put the cloak on him he speaks...**
"I have passed over three times you know. Three times I have floated in the void. And I have sent a hundred times that there or more."
**When he stops talking it's almost as if he never spoke, his stance returning to it's same stillness.**

[Abaddon]

Down the trail, walking can be heard. Footsteps echoing on stone. The rhythmic tapping of a staff. Shuffling in the dark. For those who continue, they see a Lone Valkyn'vi, walking from the direction of the City of Caledonia. He has on a thick black cloak, and strange markings on his painted face.

[RenLightfoot]

**Ren turns his head slowly, stintingly.**
"Another approaches. I should go. I shouldn't be found here"
**looks around as if just noticing where he is, and who is standing next to him. When he speaks his voice is softer, a sad version of the old Ren's voice.**
"Eilonwy? You're here?"
**Looking down, he sees his nakedness, and the snow he's standing in and then looks at the offered cloak, taking it gingerly to cover himself up as the stranger enters view.**
"Who.. who goes there?"

[Eilonwy]

The seer listens quietly as Ren speaks, nodding solemnly when he asks his first question, then turns warily to find the source of the tapping.

[Abaddon]

The Painted man walks up slowly into the firelight. His hands are clasped together in front of him. He looks at the ragged group of adventures with strange eyes.

"My Name is Abaddon. I am a traveler of sorts. I have come from Caledonia to help you find your way. I am of the In'irri, the lost people." Abaddon bows before the group.

"New travels fast in these dark times. There is a home, however makeshift it is, near Caledonia for all of you. I am happy to see at least some of the Havenites survived. I have taken the liberty of making things ready in Caledonia but it is a long journey, and there are more of the elves here than I had expected to see. "

[Kalphoenix]

The dog cocks her head sideways when Esmerelda speaks, one ear raised. She opens up her bag and pulls out the curved piece of wood with the ribbon tied around it. She speaks, if it can be called speaking, a trilling sort of language of growls and harsh consonants. She stops, suddenly and gives a sort of huff.

"Hardword." She taps her throat and covers her mouth in a sort of pantomime. "Nocan make you word." She looks thoughtful for a moment and pulls the ribbon off the wood, turning to drape it across Esmerelda's wrist. She tries to tie it there, but her fingers aren't up to the task.

[Esmerelda]

Esmerelda watches the jackal-girl intently.

"Words are hard when you don't know them. So's life too, I guess. You want me to put this on?" She asks, pointing to the ribbon. "I can't put it on myself, but I can help you if you'd like."

For the first time in many days a ghost of a smile crosses the young woman's lips.