Pale Blue

[Moirear Sian]

A lonesome note flaps suddenly, in a gust of cold wind; as it hangs on the wall nearby the entrance to the shop. It reads:

My friends,
I am going to leave the island for an indefinite amount of time.
I am sorry this comes so sudden and with no explanation, but there is not really anything to explain. You all know me, and you know how little holds me on this isle. I will try my luck elsewhere, for now.
Take care of yourselves,


Elsewhere.
Garbed in black, a figure walks. Carrying a heavy bag slung over his left shoulder, and the hilts of two swords sticking out from behind his right. A gust of wind blows the hood back off his head, revealing some wild, jet-black hair underneath, and a relatively young face. His gaze wanders to stormclouds in the distance. Then he stops for a moment and glances up to the birds chirping nearby from a tree with a weak smile, and ponders.
'Every dark cloud has a silver lining', crosses his mind like a flashback.
He smiles to himself for a short moment, before walking on and stepping off the road. While he glances down to the tips of his reinforced boots thumping along the docks, he comes to a somber stop at the end of them, then gazing out to the endless horizon of the ocean. He squints his eyes and shields them with a cupped hand, spotting the dot in the distance which could be the trade ship.
He drops the bag down on the wooden planks with a loud sound, and slowly sits down at the edge of the docks, apparently waiting for a ferryman. Sighing softly, he slopes down a bit and leans back onto his elbows, with his legs dangling off the edge.
"Where do we go from here?", he quietly utters, staring into the endless distance through his piercing pale-blue eyes.

[Moirear Sian]

Sian stands in front of the wall, looking in disbelief at what he wrote.
He tears the parchment down, crumples it up angrily, and inserts it in his mouth, chewing it and swallowing it, then turning and heading for the tavern.

[Moirear Sian]

At the southern beaches, a hooded human figure in black places a dead raven inside a barrel. He lays an old staff, a sword, a ring, a vial of ink, a feather, and a fresh loaf of bread into the darkness inside the wooden barrel with the carcass of the heavy dead bird.
Tears pearl off a chin, rolling over cheeks from pale blue eyes, bouncing down into the bowels of the barrel.
The figure closes the barrel, lifting it up onto a shoulder, and walks into the water in full mount. Cloak flaps open in the gentle ocean's breeze, revealing silent songs of times to come, black orcish half-plate coming visible underneath.
A second sword is drawn from the back of the figure, simmering crimson red in the sunlight. The blade, hilt held firmly in two hands, caresses the top of the barrel, searing into it and then suddenly setting it ablaze. The unreal weapon is then sheathed into its scabbard again, and burning barrel is pushed off further amidst the waves.
The figure remains standing, breeze carrying the hood back, pale-blue eyes shining in caleidoscopes of tears. The gust of wind feeds the fire, and the barrel burns higher into the skies, the flow setting in and waves crashing the barrel deeper into sea. A whisper wanders over chipped, almost lifeless lips...

"May the rivers of life come full circle for you, my friend..."

He stands there for a long time, before he turns for the north.