One last turn around the room – one last straightening of bedclothes, one last double-check, making sure her pack was in order, and her scrollcases were assembled just so. Her staff felt right in her hand, and she absolutely did not in any way sniffle, or wipe at her eyes, as she folded her blanket and left it in the window-seat at the Keep.
Cael was out for her walk, and that was good – the last remnants of the arcane stars above twinkled, faded, and the Pandaren’s heart ached, just a bit. She took a breath.
Good. That was good.
On the bed she left a Waystone, recharged and glowing faintly, and a pair of scrolls. And… a sweet bun, bought from the nice Pandaren who ran the bar. And then? In a shimmer of purple and a soundless explosion of light –
The first scroll is a simple letter, drawn in Human letters:
So. The rock is a waystone – your waystone. I found it in your things and meddled, and added a little something more. It should last for a while, this time – shatter it, and I’ll know to come. Speak to it, and if the magic is willing, I -should- hear you. If you need me.
I have to go – and I’m just a little bit of a coward, so I”m running while I can. I have agreed to join Captain Blackwald on his ship, hopefully to either (if I’m to be honest) steal the box back or figure out how to open it, and get Kun her destiny. He’s said he’s sailing soon, and I really do have to get there and head off Kun before she does something stupid like try to sit on him again or throw him overboard when nobody’s looking.
I know you’re not whole yet – and I really wish I didn’t have to go, but I do. Not that I think I’m being terribly helpful now – you’re physically stronger than you’ve been in weeks, and honestly, you’re doing more helping me than I think I really am for you. And.. that was a terrible sentence.
Anyway. I will never be far, but I just can’t delay anymore. I will always come if you call, and I’ll check in every once in a while – at least if you hang onto that Waystone.
… yes. I can find you with it. I’m not losing you to some crazed demon thing again. So there.
You’re special, Cael – and my best friend. Be safe. Heal. I’ll come see you when I can. In the meantime, I won’t forget my promise – no matter what, I won’t hurt him. Much. Or a little. Shaving isn’t hurting though, for the record.
Your friend –
The second scroll is just a drawing – a drawing of a rather familiar worgen’s back, sitting and meditating in a window-space with mountains spread out before her, the rising (or perhaps setting?) sun going down over the mountain beyond. Watercolors turn the whole thing into a riot of reds and golds and greys – somehow, in the limited medium, light seems to dance across everything – the worgen, the mountains, the sky.
The Pandaren character for ‘hope’ is in the bottom right corner.
On the back is stylized, sweeping calligraphy, written small, and carefully, in ink that shimmers slightly – it’s hard on the eyes, and the characters don’t seem to want to stay … well. The same. They’re protected, somehow.