Ripples Within The Oasis

[CosmicWhaleShark 2488]

 Thank you Banabu for the shot.

 

The sands of the Iron Uzg shifted with the cool ocean breeze that flowed across its expanse. New dunes slowly forming in the wake of others’ slow degradation. Within the desert, in the oasis of the Yar clan, sat a wood elf. There, he sat upon the ledge overlooking the waters, sitting cross legged with his staff settled in his lap, eyes closed. A fire crackles beside him, with smoke billowing almost unnaturally from it, in the dead of night.

 

It’s been an exciting few years, hasn’t it… Exciting, yes, that’s the word. I dare say, I’ve enjoyed myself, being Rex.

You did not become Rex to enjoy yourself… It is beginning to get to your head… You know this. This is getting dangerous…

As if it hasn’t already had its dangers?

You know what I meant. You do not lead… Not like the others do.

Are you implying they were better at it than me?

Remember your place, farseer. You have served your purpose, and if you linger, you will begin to do damage to what you have sought to mend.

You speak of their pride.

You are after all, a Golug. I have watched you, for a long time now, I know this is not a surprise to you. You have given them a push, that is all you were meant to do.

I have someone in mind already, you know.

You have had someone in mind for a while now…

What would you have of me next, then? Once I am finished, with this.

There are ripples here, farseer.

 

Ripples?

Ripples, yes, hope is not confined solely to your realm. Just as things blossom in the North, so do they blossom in the West. As do they blossom, here.

That’s… Good news.

I do not entertain your presence if I have no need of you, farseer. What I refer to, is despair. Our plains have been disturbed, and ever so slowly, the ripples have reached even here.

I understand.

Then you know what you must do.

It is what I’m best at.  

Good. Farewell, farseer.

Phaedrus opened his eyes once more, blinking a few times as his vision adjusted to the light of the moon. His fire nothing but sizzling ashes at this point. As he begins to stretch and pop his joints, cracking his neck and stretching his legs, a few stray pebbles from the ledge are kicked off into the water below. He moves to a stand, settling his staff against the stone, shortly departing after.

 

The water ripples from the stray pebbles, echoing across the oasis, before the wind picks up once more. In a mere moment, they are gone, overshadowed by new ones, caused by other forces.

[James 425]

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