This was originally written by Cinder's mun (CinderShirastan) and I've been given permission to post it here. Given how well loved the elf was in the Maritime, it's only appropriate to post his "homecoming" here.
--
It has been some time since the Ferishan had ventured to Rhy'Din and under the circumstances he regrets now ever leaving for so long.
Upon reading a letter which was sent to Avalon that had been forwarded by the excellent postal service there, it had been only been a week at the most before it was sent to Plygrethia via merchant vessel. It was dropped off inside the abandoned cabin of the Dolshie. Cinder had returned to his old ways; being home for a year and out of luck and touch with reality, once more he'd been consumed with returning his land back to the realm it once hailed from, where no Rhy'Din or any other lands familiar to others existed.
Dragging from his cottage an old bottle of Blacken Fowl Whiskey, a rare treat indeed, he lit the lanterns of the canopy deck and fetched his fishing pole, spotting the envelope.
"A letter from such a far away place!" He smiled, seeing it came from Harold; he flopped down on the deck and opened it. His smile stayed for some time till it curved over with a sadness.. a questioning. There was something to Harold's letter, but he could not know what it meant unless he went back to one of his homes away from homes. A journey back to the land where he had the best of times and the worst of times.
Many lonely nights it had been traveling back to Rhy'Din, it had been moreso living alone on an Island which none but himself cared for.
He docked at the Salvage Yard which was still entrusted to him by the Original McKennitt boys, first of the few humans that considered him a true friend. Sadly, it had been over four hundred years since they had been around. He feels bad for leaving the place in shambles, but he has at least preserved what sentinels still reside in her once busy harbor. At least a few restored ships are nested herein. The Seasong: Cinder's claim to global fishing and once a destructive wartime ship, now more lonely than him, echoes the salted years and cries of the gulls. The Balclutha: What stories tell of her he does not really know, but a magnificent ship, truly a craft that had surpassed the design of many. He was grateful for helping in what little he could for Harold. The Enforcer: A lightweight warship from Cinder's blood brother Jandar, though he has never managed to talk about it or ever step foot on her deck, still it manages to keep well on the pilings and pulleys. And one more ship worth noting; the Destiny, a large galleon recovered from the seas, most of it is rotted away or missing but clearly it has arrived here as did many of the inhabitants.
"Rhy'Din.... ". Cinder pried himself from the sea and stepped foot to the land and shuffled his way through the darkened night, a bag of scallops in hand. He did not come empty handed. "I hope they are ready with the stout for me". He chuckled some and made his way past the gate, unlocking the yard.
It had been several hours and he arrives tiredly at the Maritime. Wiping his bare feet at the door, he opened it up then headed on in. Looking about, he felt the coldness and emptiness as if nobody came here anymore. He set the scallops in the back; to his surprise, the cold of the magic box they have works and the shelves still are stocked. He seated himself with a bottle he pours generously. "Where are the people I love... hello?" He sighed, looking around once more, he then heard a familiar chirp.
It wasn't how he had wanted to hear what had happened. Still he tried his best with understanding the alien creature. Cinder took a strong swig, wiping his eyes and nodding softly. " I am sorry". He took the bottle and headed upstairs to the room he was always welcome to use but never did.... Renne looked at him with sadness as his feet disappeared from the steps.
He now has been coming and going, not saying anything. Hardly anyone notices him. He works silently at the salvage yard by day, hiring helping hands of all kinds: Bulk headers, Contractors, Carpenters, Painters, Masons...
By night he returns the Maritime and drinks in solitude.
--
It has been some time since the Ferishan had ventured to Rhy'Din and under the circumstances he regrets now ever leaving for so long.
Upon reading a letter which was sent to Avalon that had been forwarded by the excellent postal service there, it had been only been a week at the most before it was sent to Plygrethia via merchant vessel. It was dropped off inside the abandoned cabin of the Dolshie. Cinder had returned to his old ways; being home for a year and out of luck and touch with reality, once more he'd been consumed with returning his land back to the realm it once hailed from, where no Rhy'Din or any other lands familiar to others existed.
Dragging from his cottage an old bottle of Blacken Fowl Whiskey, a rare treat indeed, he lit the lanterns of the canopy deck and fetched his fishing pole, spotting the envelope.
"A letter from such a far away place!" He smiled, seeing it came from Harold; he flopped down on the deck and opened it. His smile stayed for some time till it curved over with a sadness.. a questioning. There was something to Harold's letter, but he could not know what it meant unless he went back to one of his homes away from homes. A journey back to the land where he had the best of times and the worst of times.
Many lonely nights it had been traveling back to Rhy'Din, it had been moreso living alone on an Island which none but himself cared for.
He docked at the Salvage Yard which was still entrusted to him by the Original McKennitt boys, first of the few humans that considered him a true friend. Sadly, it had been over four hundred years since they had been around. He feels bad for leaving the place in shambles, but he has at least preserved what sentinels still reside in her once busy harbor. At least a few restored ships are nested herein. The Seasong: Cinder's claim to global fishing and once a destructive wartime ship, now more lonely than him, echoes the salted years and cries of the gulls. The Balclutha: What stories tell of her he does not really know, but a magnificent ship, truly a craft that had surpassed the design of many. He was grateful for helping in what little he could for Harold. The Enforcer: A lightweight warship from Cinder's blood brother Jandar, though he has never managed to talk about it or ever step foot on her deck, still it manages to keep well on the pilings and pulleys. And one more ship worth noting; the Destiny, a large galleon recovered from the seas, most of it is rotted away or missing but clearly it has arrived here as did many of the inhabitants.
"Rhy'Din.... ". Cinder pried himself from the sea and stepped foot to the land and shuffled his way through the darkened night, a bag of scallops in hand. He did not come empty handed. "I hope they are ready with the stout for me". He chuckled some and made his way past the gate, unlocking the yard.
It had been several hours and he arrives tiredly at the Maritime. Wiping his bare feet at the door, he opened it up then headed on in. Looking about, he felt the coldness and emptiness as if nobody came here anymore. He set the scallops in the back; to his surprise, the cold of the magic box they have works and the shelves still are stocked. He seated himself with a bottle he pours generously. "Where are the people I love... hello?" He sighed, looking around once more, he then heard a familiar chirp.
It wasn't how he had wanted to hear what had happened. Still he tried his best with understanding the alien creature. Cinder took a strong swig, wiping his eyes and nodding softly. " I am sorry". He took the bottle and headed upstairs to the room he was always welcome to use but never did.... Renne looked at him with sadness as his feet disappeared from the steps.
He now has been coming and going, not saying anything. Hardly anyone notices him. He works silently at the salvage yard by day, hiring helping hands of all kinds: Bulk headers, Contractors, Carpenters, Painters, Masons...
By night he returns the Maritime and drinks in solitude.