From The Ashes Of A Butterfly

[Fid 566]

 

The clamor of the day had long died down in the citadel when a pair of very familiar tooled-leather boots paced down the worn path into the city, moving over the unpaved and paved sections of the road with measured steps.

 

His face was not the same, nor were the eyes that peered up at the unfinished gatehouse… but the mind which worked behind them belonged to the elf who had been Durion Uradir. His garb was strange and foreign to him, a grey-green hooded cloak over a leather tunic clasped with silver… but he could not wear his own vestments. One day, perhaps, he would be able to bear his true name, when the Elves who had taken part in his fall were gone… but it was very possible that this day would never come.

 

Oddly, this did not strain him. He had not been what he was because of his name, after all, but because of the ceaseless effort he had put into managing and aiding the Elves before and during his tenure as interim Sohaer… and his uncle had done him no favours, allowing the perpetrator of the blatant abuse to go free despite all evidence to the contrary. No, it was far better to be free of the Uradir name, and his own, for the nonce.

 

His eyes tracked over the city he had been building according to Delonna’s plans, wondering who would continue the labour. Delonna himself, likely; the tireless architect whom he respected to a great degree, the elf who’d designed the Citadel in the first place. It was a pity, he thought, that he would only be able to watch as the walls were raised… perhaps he would volunteer as a stonemason to help with the efforts.

 

Shrugging, the elf pulled back his hood and glanced about, at the Library high above his head and the partially constructed inn at his right side. It was best to allow himself to fade into obscurity. He could travel the countryside, explore the vast and wonderful world that had been granted to the Descendant Races… and more importantly he could return to the city, to be with his loved one when she too had returned. His old name and identity would be shared with few, if any, but her.

 

((Well... this has devastated my appetite for political deliberation. The amount of OOC involved in the politics of the server baffles me (despite my long involvement in the business,) so I’m retiring from them for the time being. For the multitudes of RP purists who will grump at me for not PK’ing, I hope you will consider this a fair enough compromise in return for my keeping the character around.))

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.