She had not stepped foot into Rhy'din proper in over a year. The last time, she had seen Scottie and it had warmed her heart to know that her friend remembered her and was doing well but all outward appearances.
Years gone and the place only touched her heart and mind to remember Grey Martel, her beloved. It had been wrong the way that the gods had stolen him from her. He had been killed and lay buried in Rhy'din. The sarcophagus was like many other stone coffins in the great burial crypts within the city's limits, but on the lid of it was a large, scrolling M and the markings of his house.
And each year that passed made it easier for her to put one foot in front of the other. Did any mourn their beloved so greatly as she did hers" Was it not time for her to release herself from her own suffering" Often she had told herself this. And the gods allowed her to breathe a little easier with each passing year.
That night, she had finally made her way back into Rhy'din. She did not head straight to the West End where Sid and Scottie readily had a place for her. But instead, she went to the Red Dragon Inn. It was her guess that not a single soul within the walls of the place knew her joy and pain that the building brought to her just to see it, to be within it.
The small woman found it much easier this time, though. Pain was dulled and far off in the distance when she found the place beneath the stairs where she had hidden his weapons, his grey short-coat, and his large wool winter cloak. Even his chair was where she sat and settled into for a while speaking to another.
Majicks were still the norm within the infamous walls of the Red Dragon. They still make her heart beat fast and her skin alive with goose-flesh and fear to know it was so near. And yet she found herself brave enough to linger.
As she finally made her way to a room upstairs, above the inn's common room, she pulled the two ribbons from her black hair. The ribbons had been a gift from Scottie. He had always been generous and warm with her. Such a good friend.
She could not explain how the years had not touched her. Perhaps it was that gift given by another so many years ago when healing her from the dagger cut on her forearm. Nejara still felt very much the same: gentile, shy, and pensive. But there was a hint of melancholy that he never left her heart when Grey had died.
A few had been met that night that made her smile. Mist was simply a happy person, it seemed. Icer was happy to have her scales buffed by him. And Andu had looked so much like Rhy'Saan that she remembered him and Basalt in the same breath quite easily.
Nejara smiled and placed the ribbons on the table in the room she rented that night at the Red Dragon. The length of cloth of the palla was allowed to slip from her shoulders. She caught it and draped it over the back of a chair that sat before a dormant little fireplace in the room. Only then did she remember she had left her sandals in the common room. She would get them the next morning.
It was time for sleep and the door was already latched well. She crawled into the bed with the grace of a dancer, without thought or presence of mind about it. She could not help but fall asleep to thoughts about Grey, Darius, TheWagHawk and his lovely lady, Scottie and Sid, of Axe and Tera...and even Ivory.
When she finally fell asleep, a smile was on her lips and the line of her brow was a gentle one.
Years gone and the place only touched her heart and mind to remember Grey Martel, her beloved. It had been wrong the way that the gods had stolen him from her. He had been killed and lay buried in Rhy'din. The sarcophagus was like many other stone coffins in the great burial crypts within the city's limits, but on the lid of it was a large, scrolling M and the markings of his house.
And each year that passed made it easier for her to put one foot in front of the other. Did any mourn their beloved so greatly as she did hers" Was it not time for her to release herself from her own suffering" Often she had told herself this. And the gods allowed her to breathe a little easier with each passing year.
That night, she had finally made her way back into Rhy'din. She did not head straight to the West End where Sid and Scottie readily had a place for her. But instead, she went to the Red Dragon Inn. It was her guess that not a single soul within the walls of the place knew her joy and pain that the building brought to her just to see it, to be within it.
The small woman found it much easier this time, though. Pain was dulled and far off in the distance when she found the place beneath the stairs where she had hidden his weapons, his grey short-coat, and his large wool winter cloak. Even his chair was where she sat and settled into for a while speaking to another.
Majicks were still the norm within the infamous walls of the Red Dragon. They still make her heart beat fast and her skin alive with goose-flesh and fear to know it was so near. And yet she found herself brave enough to linger.
As she finally made her way to a room upstairs, above the inn's common room, she pulled the two ribbons from her black hair. The ribbons had been a gift from Scottie. He had always been generous and warm with her. Such a good friend.
She could not explain how the years had not touched her. Perhaps it was that gift given by another so many years ago when healing her from the dagger cut on her forearm. Nejara still felt very much the same: gentile, shy, and pensive. But there was a hint of melancholy that he never left her heart when Grey had died.
A few had been met that night that made her smile. Mist was simply a happy person, it seemed. Icer was happy to have her scales buffed by him. And Andu had looked so much like Rhy'Saan that she remembered him and Basalt in the same breath quite easily.
Nejara smiled and placed the ribbons on the table in the room she rented that night at the Red Dragon. The length of cloth of the palla was allowed to slip from her shoulders. She caught it and draped it over the back of a chair that sat before a dormant little fireplace in the room. Only then did she remember she had left her sandals in the common room. She would get them the next morning.
It was time for sleep and the door was already latched well. She crawled into the bed with the grace of a dancer, without thought or presence of mind about it. She could not help but fall asleep to thoughts about Grey, Darius, TheWagHawk and his lovely lady, Scottie and Sid, of Axe and Tera...and even Ivory.
When she finally fell asleep, a smile was on her lips and the line of her brow was a gentle one.