There wasn't much to consider; there wasn't anything there for me. My family was dead, and I'd never been much for making friends. What was keeping me around? Nothing. That's why I left. The City of Splendors wasn't so splendorous anymore. Sixteen years seemed like an eternity, then, but five years later...not so much. I'm a different person, now. Better? Doubtful. But different, at least.
He closed his journal, tucking his quill between the pages and stowing it in his satchel - an old, weathered thing with a tarnished, broken buckle. Following it was the small vial of ink. He exhaled...a long, labored sigh, and pushed himself to his feet. He stood under a tree on a small bluff; an errant tree, with no others around. It bloomed in totality, its vibrant foliage offering welcomed shelter from the unforgiving brilliance of the noon sun. At his right his companion stood, erect and silent despite the light and life surrounding it. He allowed himself a thin, half-smile as he reached for his lone friend, his calloused hand firmly grasping the leather-bound handle and relieving it of its earthen sheath. He turned it over once, then reached high above himself, easily bringing it to rest in the halfscabbard adorning his back. Again, he exhaled.
He jerked his head to the side, sending his raven locks from his eyes and revealing his piercing, ice-blue gaze to the clarity of the cloudless sky. He bent down and scooped up his satchel, looping its single strap over his head and trailing across his torso, down to his hip. He stepped into the unhindered sun's illumination, measuredly making his way to the old, worn road teasing the horizon while his old, worn mail groaned just slightly in protest. His satchel followed quietly, bouncing alongside his thigh.
He closed his journal, tucking his quill between the pages and stowing it in his satchel - an old, weathered thing with a tarnished, broken buckle. Following it was the small vial of ink. He exhaled...a long, labored sigh, and pushed himself to his feet. He stood under a tree on a small bluff; an errant tree, with no others around. It bloomed in totality, its vibrant foliage offering welcomed shelter from the unforgiving brilliance of the noon sun. At his right his companion stood, erect and silent despite the light and life surrounding it. He allowed himself a thin, half-smile as he reached for his lone friend, his calloused hand firmly grasping the leather-bound handle and relieving it of its earthen sheath. He turned it over once, then reached high above himself, easily bringing it to rest in the halfscabbard adorning his back. Again, he exhaled.
He jerked his head to the side, sending his raven locks from his eyes and revealing his piercing, ice-blue gaze to the clarity of the cloudless sky. He bent down and scooped up his satchel, looping its single strap over his head and trailing across his torso, down to his hip. He stepped into the unhindered sun's illumination, measuredly making his way to the old, worn road teasing the horizon while his old, worn mail groaned just slightly in protest. His satchel followed quietly, bouncing alongside his thigh.
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