The life of Exile.

[Tired Cat]

The inspiration for the creation.

[Tired Cat]

The Journal of an Exile

The pages of the journal, while worn, are well kept, and the words written scrawl about the pages with the precision of any noble's scribe. Occasionally, a sketch of some note worthy quality springs from the paper, though most of it's likes are dark and bold. The first page, for instance, bears an image on the top corner of a fair sized ship crashing through a towering wave, and a caricature of a dark haired elf's face off to the side, blanching.

When I arrived here, I was hardly sure what to expect...big cities are like that.
This one boasts a fairly mixed population, I see elves, and humans, wandering with one another frequently, and not with complete sour expressions. Or those side-ways glances some places seem to breed.

I think of you often, you know? Even now
It's hard to believe, ten years is such a long time...and yet, I find myself living that distantly whenever I become idle. It seems so foolish now, with how far I've come, and all I've seen...

Naeh I think? and Grath, oh...and Ro. These are a few names I've placed with faces I come to respect, and even hope to see. There have been so many fair folk here...
Some of then seem as surprised as I am by my own accepting nature...which is a sweet surprise.
Someone's coming...I'll write you more soon.

[Tired Cat]

A trim of sketched ivy traces the top right corner of this page, with a few little berries peeking from between leaves here and there. The words written, seem to be a bit less legible than normal, and a few spots on the page appear to have been stained with some droplets of moisture.

The hospitality of this place warms me, and worries me...how far into this inlet do I dare row before steering back into sea? When I arrived, I certainly had hopes but this has proven to be something of -