The Ones Who Go

[Luxury 603]

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I should think that from the moment Mali’thilln step beyond our gates to embark unto the larger realm, their journeys become ones of Returning. When the final step is taken and our Silver city can no longer be seen over the horizon, the solitary Mali’thilln become akin to Marble pillars with no structure to support. Tall and gilded constructions of Material, therefore magnificent to look upon; What with the tales thereon carved onto our Eternal Souls. Tapestries of our legendary ancestry laid bare for the laymen whose short lives lead them to endless cycles of destruction. Though these pillars may be sturdy, there is a want of foundation. The overtrodden mud where they’ve planted their base cannot support their intellect and oft ancient wisdom.

 

To the ones that look upon those distant shores, I implore you to stay; What you seek is within you as it always has been, and always will be.

 

Let us feast nightly upon fruits, draped in fine fabrics. Under moonlight shall we dance on Silver-lined streets. Bask in our utopian society and live in bliss, Mali’thilln. We Eternals have no concept of a life after this, so surely this life is our Sky, our perfect plane of Joy. It can certainly be so, but only in Haelun’or.

 

 

Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya

 

signed, Lorei Elibar’acal

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[riorr 1783]

The missive, in the hand of a High Elf, swayed with salt-scented winds, and he smiled brightly at it's message, "Ito nae ehier okarn."

[_Sheylo_ 979]

A familiar High Elf looks over the missive with a fond expression. Gently, he folds it, creasing the papers edge over and over again until it were small enough to pocket. And so he did, to keep the note as a reminder as to why he stays.

[RyuTheCoolest 176]

Some young poet, heart torn for his lost love, grips in his hand his sturdy 'aheral flutes. Though his maliyu lost to tainted lands, his heart knows his first love. "Ay'Motherland. Sweet home of my ancestors..."