Some of the contents were fairly expected in an adventurer's bags. Maps, a few potions, random odds and ends picked up either to make more or to trade for other necessities. A few bits of extra clothing. The little bundles of seeds the Miqo'te had painstakingly collected. The journal wedged in between several jars of pigment and brushes almost fit too, plenty of adventurers used them to keep track of jobs or details, but this one was a bit bigger than anything like that. A bit too well-loved and Emet would likely note the small pile of notes tucked under the closing ties that were those self-same lists and details.
If Emet cared to flip through, it seemed a combination of diary and a botanist's sketchbook. Or at least at the start that's all there was. He could likely tell when Mikka had started adventuring even without reading a word from the way the subject matter of those little sketches and paintings shifted from plants alone to include details of places he'd been, people he'd met. He might be excused for thinking that some of the sketches were from after he'd come to the First- small doodles in margins of patterns and designs not used in mortal aesthetics. Plants sketched that again that while Emet might recognize no one else would.
But a glance at dates noted on those pages belied the assumption by a large margin. If he skimmed any of the writing he'd notice those sketches were often accompanied by mentions of dreams, vague in any detail but compelling to the little Keeper all the same.
The drawings grew more certain as pages went by. Figures gathered in conversation or laughter, in those familiar hoods and masks, but unlike those Emet had populated his memorial with, there were details here. Familiar smiles, some with longer or shorter hair, one smaller than the others but no less exuberant in their smile. Enough details that the Ascian would certainly be able to tell who they all were.
Her room filled near to bursting with plants as it always was, a small table set by an open window with a pair of steaming cups set on it with a view of Amaurot beyond. But unlike the one Emet had shown him, there was no murky water overhead. He might assume that there was artistic license taken in adding a night sky, but the constellations were as they should be. An uncertain note in the entry on the opposite page, that surely this was some effect of the Echo. Except that it felt more like a memory of his own than anything like that...
Emet-Selch would be able to advise him on this surely... but he was so wary of bringing it up to him yet, didn't think he would thank the Warrior for digging into old wounds if it was just the Echo. Maybe then he would ask once the final Lightwarden was slain.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-11-21 03:33 am (UTC)If Emet cared to flip through, it seemed a combination of diary and a botanist's sketchbook. Or at least at the start that's all there was. He could likely tell when Mikka had started adventuring even without reading a word from the way the subject matter of those little sketches and paintings shifted from plants alone to include details of places he'd been, people he'd met. He might be excused for thinking that some of the sketches were from after he'd come to the First- small doodles in margins of patterns and designs not used in mortal aesthetics. Plants sketched that again that while Emet might recognize no one else would.
But a glance at dates noted on those pages belied the assumption by a large margin. If he skimmed any of the writing he'd notice those sketches were often accompanied by mentions of dreams, vague in any detail but compelling to the little Keeper all the same.
The drawings grew more certain as pages went by. Figures gathered in conversation or laughter, in those familiar hoods and masks, but unlike those Emet had populated his memorial with, there were details here. Familiar smiles, some with longer or shorter hair, one smaller than the others but no less exuberant in their smile. Enough details that the Ascian would certainly be able to tell who they all were.
Her room filled near to bursting with plants as it always was, a small table set by an open window with a pair of steaming cups set on it with a view of Amaurot beyond. But unlike the one Emet had shown him, there was no murky water overhead. He might assume that there was artistic license taken in adding a night sky, but the constellations were as they should be. An uncertain note in the entry on the opposite page, that surely this was some effect of the Echo. Except that it felt more like a memory of his own than anything like that...
Emet-Selch would be able to advise him on this surely... but he was so wary of bringing it up to him yet, didn't think he would thank the Warrior for digging into old wounds if it was just the Echo. Maybe then he would ask once the final Lightwarden was slain.