Remia peeled off the ochre vestments she wore noting the threadbare areas where the cloth had worn thin on the hem and sleeves that were far past her skill to repair. Instead of downright discarding the robe alltogether, she was determined to salvage the honey colored cloth which had come to represent symbol of her spare, raw, but tranquil existience these past five months in Deepholm. She had left behind her more ornamental trappings when she arrived in favor of a plain, utilitarian robe hoping to blend in with the rocks and soil surrounding her. She removed a pair of shears from her sewing kit and began slashing away at the cloth, carving the excess away and shaping the architecture of a bag that would hold her rock and crystal samples. Remia herself felt stripped and raw. All this solitude had pared her down to simplicity itself and she felt more aware than ever of her mortality, her limitations, and the elemental nature of her character.
She had never intended to remain in this realm nearly half a year of her life in this place, especially with a war raging on in more than one front. Her confinement here began simply enough in her desire to study earth elemental magics in order to research methods for molding stone and crystal into defensive fotifications and constructs. A need for such magics was not merely a thing of novelty but of necessity. It seemed to Remia that the war in Azeroth was as ephemeral as the seasons and surely as one enemy fell another would arise to fill the void. Ambermill remained in a precarious position even if the Twilight forces were being repelled by the Alliance and Horde forces. The Forsaken troops loyal to Sylvanas were parked on the backdoor of Ambermill like slavering hyenas. The Mythal that Remia had erected as a ward had been a deterrant but more than one defense was needed. Remia felt a deep protective desire to preserve the lands for the generations of tenants that had worked the fields and raised their families there. Many of these families had temporarily left the town to seek shelter in Stormwind. Calithos had stubbornly remained to defend his Father's estate and lands. A forsaken lady, who Cal had known as a child in her human incarnation, also remained there and while Remia had not met her she seemed to be a most agreeable neighbor from her husband's accounts.
It had been autumn when she departed Ambermill, an autumn of warmth and beauty with the cool green of the conifers punctuated with the crimson blaze of red maples and the rolling hills of Hillsbrad dotted with oaks arrayed in leaves in shades of honey and wine. Remia had honestly thought that she would return home before the orchards and vinyards were blanketed in frost. Her travels to Deepholm had resulted in her offering her services to Therazane in exchange for being allowed to study the intracacies of geomancy. The stonemother had no abiding love for human kind and harbored a great deal of resentment towards them but she was not above haggling like a rug merchant in Tanaris with a human if it suited her purpose. Remia had been neatly encapsulated in her plans these many months like an ant snared in amber. Therazane was for the most part ill tempered as a fish wife, incredibly demanding,and patronizingly rude. If she gave any respect at all it was hard earned and grudging indeed. Yet for all her unpleasant demeanor, the stonemother was a dedicated steward to her realm and those under her protection, a trait which Remia could respect and empathize with.
Remia had taken up residence in a cave overlooking softly glowing expanses of violet and rust colored crystals interspersed with stark grey pillars of diorite during her stay there. The cool silence of the place was a stark contrast to the chaotic bustle of Stormwind and served to be soothing and meditative. Remia could not readily discern the shifting of day into night in such as place save for the foraging behavor of the rockworms which lived far below her, their behaviors seemingly driven by some sort of circadian pattern. While the mage enjoyed this solitude she often found herself longing for the company of those she left behind. It went without saying that she missed Calithos who complemented her spirit in a myriad of ways. Their visits were brief in nature but intense and full of the contentment that blossoms in the fullness of time in a partnership. She found herself longing for the warmth of his body wrapped around her and the way his his chestnut hair fell rakishly over one of his hazel eyes.
Time had moved on rythmically and relentlessly as it was prone to do in her absence. Many of her friends were at the war front in the twilight hilighlands or squirmishing with the Horde forces. She missed many of the simple but valued things...baking brownies laced with herbal aphrodiasics intended for Taldrus and Arialynn, tea and political discourse with Sirthil, military campaigns with Corran, being chased by Fizzlepocket's mechanical armies, and bantering with Alysdair over a pint of ale. Remia knew so many in Stormwind whose faces she would be glad of that were too numerous to list. She carefully wrapped the stones,crystals, and a black scaled tome in the newly constructed bag. Remia took one last look at the peaceful solitude of the cave before she stepped into the noisy, yawning, portal that led to Stormwind.
(( I felt that I should at least write some sort of entry that provided an IC explanation for my 5 month absence in the game after my computer went splodey. I am getting a new hard drive installed tomorrow :). Good news is Rem will have pretty sparklies and rockworm poop to pass out as souvenirs! <3))
