Feastday, 14 Koaratos 5118

"... Listen."

That wasn't how you began to pray to an arkati. She knew this, but her legs folded under her in the snow were cold and she didn't care.

"I am not the sort ..." Avawren paused to pluck a weak, half withered sprig of Imaera's Lace from the area surrounding the the altar. She was thankful for whatever blessing let them continue to bloom despite the unnatural weather.  "I am not the sort to do this. To ask things or grovel or any of that."

Elm leaves, for communication. To inspire words to be more than just heard, to be felt and understood.  Just like her grandmother taught. Her fingers were numbed with the cold but her hands would have shaken anyway, with the work she'd done tonight.

"I tend to only ask things of the lesser spirits. I can see them, they help me every day." She turned the leaf, catching the delicate flower with it's stem to  weave them together, then paused to find another snow brave sprig of Lace.

"But I am at a loss. The longer this goes on, the less chance I see of it ending well... " One flower entwined with the next. The quiet work of her hands usually stilled the tumult of her mind but it was doing little of that tonight. Tonight the images of those she cared about, fallen dead at her feet one after the other, were too fresh for any sort of calm. She cast her eyes up instead, speaking to the rolling grey clouds.

"He is your child, arkati." Avawren was surprised at how her voice suddenly caught in her throat, "... they are both your children."

A brief shake of her head cleared the dampness from her eyes. White flowers are impossible to find in the snow through tears. She quieted herself, made sure her voice was steady before she made her request.

"Please. The boy will not let us help him. Whatever is grasping at his mind is slowly killing him, and without his guidance I don't know that we will be able to end this storm.  Please guide them both. Let the elder help the younger, and thorough it ...through it." She hook her head again and brushed the platinum locks that tumbled over her eyes away in annoyance. "I don't even know. I'm just a stupid elf from very far away who has no idea what she's doing."

She gathered the end of chain of flowers and leaves she'd woven, looped them round each other and paused to look at her handiwork. The elm leaves were brittle and small. The cold had come so quickly in spring that they hadn't even fully grown before they died. The flowers too were thready, even with the blessings offered by Imaera. It was a good representation then, she thought as she leaned forward to place the garland reverently upon the low altar, of the spirit of the people of Ta'Vaalor. Fighting valiantly to remain, pretending to be strong in hopes that appearances could be reality. What else could they do, but hope and pray?

She gathered herself and stood, puling her cloak tight around her as a gust stirred the snow into a whirlwind for a moment. There was more to say, but words couldn't say it. So she closed her eyes and prayed, in a way she hadn't in decades, then quietly made her way back to the warmth of the bonfire.

Volnes, 02 Koaratos 5118

My Dearest Gaelira,


           I was delighted to receive your letter, along with your lovely gift, when the ships from home arrived here in Ta'Vaalor last week. Seeing those familiar black sails on the horizon lifted my spirits immeasurably. It must have cost you several favors to see that room was found for a personal gift in among the supplies, but I should not be surprised. You have always had a way with words and ears.
      
          I was notably less delighted to hear of Cyran's latest exploits. The Lady Almedha is a flighty finch of a woman so I would not expect this dalliance to last the season, but the poor boy will find himself under the Dowager Orilynn's gilt heel if he is not careful. Please impress upon my elder sister that it is her duty to help him navigate the perils of matchmaking. I would do so myself, but we both know how highly Cremia holds my advice. She has always been enraptured by you, however, so perhaps she will take it to heart.

        The linden trees must have long since blossomed there, and the sea breezes turned warm and pleasant. I think of them often, especially here. All that they say of the situation is Ta'Vaalor is true, I'm afraid. It remains beyond the depths of winter here, even at the beginning of Koaratos. It is even more unnatural as that, as it's the sort of winter that the fortress has never seen. It snows endlessly, and the cold is bitter and relentless. I am proud that House Nalfein has risen to aid our cousins here, when they are in such dire need. And yes, I do understand your insistence that return home, but I'm afraid I can not. My stop in Ta'Vaalor was only a bit of sight seeing on my way to the Library Aies, but sister ... if you've lived to watch as a lake freezes solid in mere moments, then stayed as the people struggle to survive, you can not simply leave. I think often of what your brother would have done, and thoughts of him are ever my guidance.

       On that subject, I'm afraid I must beg a favor of you. I have thought about it intensely, and I'm afraid that I will be unable to return for Ignais' Remembrance this year. I expect, and accept, the Malcisong's ire in this, and would gladly carry the burden of their disapproval in person as I have all these years. However, I feel that staying here to help in what ways I can is a larger honor to him, and a better way to repay my debt, than placing flowers and drinking into the wee hours. Please accept and forward my apologies and my love.


Ever your loving sister,

Avawren