A Warily Weary Welcome

[Jack Oat]

It seemed a world away. In truth, it nearly was. The shores of Evermeet glistened with a faint, pure, golden tinge to them; a staunch contrast, juxtaposed to the grey and red sands that he remembered having lined Arelith from what he could only guess was the despair and obvious bloodshed that scorched Arelith. The ship his feet stood on was beautiful, but the Elf's mind kept wanderring to the Militaristic aspects of it. She lacks kannons, he thought to himself, A single Pirate ship could turn us into little more than driftwood. He mused over that briefly, drifting his focus to the quickly passing waters below. His thoughts wandered to the Pirates he'd fought and felled across the minor Isles the past decade, then to the Ports he'd visitted, and then to her; that last bit of unfinished business. A strong spasm overcame him, an involuntary one. Slowly, his gaze rose from the sea back toward the rapidly approaching shore. Bells chimed as the ship approached, and in a short while, he stood waiting at the gangplank.

Before him, on the other side, stood three lithefigures, a man and two women. Elves, he knew that much. Those touched by the Father, as it were. Their golden and scarlet hair waved daintily around their lightly sunkissed skin. They seemed so... Perfect. Too perfect, even. His own skin was littered with scars, and while they all carried dexterous, nimble bodies, he carried himself akin to a bear in a porcelain shop. One of them stepped forward, his blue and gold robes fluttering faintly in the ocean's breeze. Again, his mind wandered to the violence he'd grown accustomed to. So small and fragile. Why would they send someone so weak? And again, his mind wandered to the decade past, being the most recent on his mind. He thought of the corrupt Councillor; the man who brought him into the fold of politics; the "traitor"; his friend. Though as quickly as his thoughts seemed to change, his focus returned as the dainty man before him spoke, his tongue gentle, demeanor carrying himself as though he'd never worked a day in his life.

"Welcome back, Brother Cae'lios. It has been some time since we'd heard from you, and we worried the worst."

Their words seemed folly and bitter, and even the one-eyed warrior could clearly see through their faux smiles and supposedly 'warm' greetings.

The grey-clad Elf stepped from the boat across the gangplank with several loud 'thuds' from his very being. They all seemed so foreign. His kin, perhaps, though they lacked some manner of discipline that he'd come to find comfort in back on the Isle; the rarely ever spoken of 'Warrior's Resolve.'

The trio with him droned on about the changes while he'd been away. They spoke of new buildings and Temples, of royal deaths and births, of things all relatively unimportant to him. After a while, they seemed to wander off, and he was left on his own once more.

The door creaked and ebbed as pressure was applied, opening slowly. It was the dead of night, and he wondered if the tenants were in reverie. The answer came swiftly in the form of a small, elderly Elven woman who greeted him with a frail smile. He mustered as much of one as he could, which barely taunted the corners of his lips. A moment passed as Caelius's shoulders sagged, the weight of his travels finally bearing down on him. Though before either had time to speak, a small child approached from behind the woman's dress, holding onto it as if hiding from a great monster. He was a beautiful child, no older than seven years of age. Unlike the other two adults, his hair flowed a brilliant blonde color, his skin a few shades lighter than the other Wood Elves in the room. Words tried, and failed, to come from Abidan as he looked toward the youngling. The woman seemed to react quickly enough, however, running a hand through the child's hair as she spoke quietly to him. "Quarion, this is your father. Do you remember him at all?" A tear welled up at the corner of the soldier's eye, his mouth agape still. He couldn't breathe; had it really been that long?

Quarion's reply came swiftly and as matter-of-factly as a small child could muster. "Nuh-uh!"

Confusion overran him in that split second before the boy continued. His heart plummeted with the young Quarion's words, as if falling into an infinite chasm that formed deep within him.

"Grandpapa says daddy is dead! Just like my mommy!"