Drelu’rian Residence

[Muri I'liffe]

On a crisp, clear morning, just as the first of the three suns begin to appear over the horizon, a lone Half-Thëlyri Elf walks slowly down a dirt path towards an abandoned building. Her large black eyes search uncertainly for a sign that she is in the right place, until eventually they lock on to a small plank of wood with the word “Drelu’rian” scratched onto it. With only a folded piece of parchment in one hand and her other gripping tightly to a shawl around her shoulders, she stops and stares at the building before her. Eventually the girl closes her eyes and bows her head, trying to hold back the tears that she didn’t think would materialize. Releasing her grasp on the shawl, she slowly unfolds the parchment and reads the few words scribbled upon it.


Muri.
Frigid River. Drelu’rian is yours now.
Water runs clear when the wild flowers end.

~Solatre'al


Sol... With a sigh, Muri folds the paper and lifts her eyes back to the building before her Just like I imagined it... She thinks, a weak smile spreading across her lips.

The building is humble in size, made of crudely cut stone and a thatched roof that screams for improvement. A solitary plant creeps up the front of the outside wall, its stalk winds and curls up the whole length of the one-storey building. The grass surrounding the domicile is long and untamed, it is clear that nobody has been here for a long while.

Muri approaches the building’s small wooden door and reveals a bronze key from her shirt pocket. Unlocking the door, she pushes hesitantly against it. Nothing, the door doesn’t budge. Using her shoulder now, the woman shoves the door more firmly and it opens with a dusty cough. Muri is confronted with a small, stale-smelling room. One window covered with dust and grime reflects a grey streak of light across the opposite wall. This room seems to be the living quarters. A simple wooden table with one matching chair stand against the wall to the right, the wall to the left is bare except for a small alcove with a fireplace. Two doors are situated next to each other on the wall opposite the front of the building.

Dropping the key and the parchment onto the table, Muri explores the two other rooms: a bedroom with a single straw mattress, and what seems to be a small storage room. All three rooms contain simple wooden flooring, now unclean from neglect.

So this is what Sol left me… She thinks. Despite the muck and grime, Muri likes the simple appearance of the place. It is a place she can tell Sol had chosen himself. Sol…. she had been thinking about him the whole journey to Frigid River. He was an old friend who unexpectedly passed away one Era ago. People from Muri's hometown suspected that his death was not accidental, but that it was also not suicide. His body was found with only two items close by; a folded piece of parchment addressed to Muri, and a deed to a domicile in Frigid River. Something about this rang alarm bells in Muri’s head, as if he knew he were about to die or had planned it somehow. It was frustrating to Muri. He had known her his whole life but for some reason felt he could not confide in her. Why? Why could he not have spoken to her if he feared for his life? Perhaps she could have prevented his death. It had taken her a long time to stop questioning the circumstances, and longer still to release the pain this had caused.

Muri did not have many friends; Sol’s death had decreased that number to only two people. Her life at home had become lonely, and Muri eventually decided that the best thing for her to do was to escape and go somewhere completely new. Only when Sol died did she find out that he owned land somewhere other than Trelore. He had unintentionally given her an escape route. Now, six cycles later, Muri stood in Frigid River with nothing to her name but this building, and the quiet expectancy of something different.

The derelict state that her new home is in gives Muri a sudden rush of anxiety. Feeling her heart flutter, she clutches the edge of the table and lowers herself onto the chair. What have I done? I can’t go back now, even if I wanted to! A nagging voice inside her mind flashes doubts for a second, until she thinks about what is waiting for her in Trelore. Nothing. The chance for a new life is better than nothing. Taking a few deep breaths, the young Thëlyri suddenly feels exhausted. Shaking her head and mumbling to herself about the long journey, she slowly clears her mind of all thoughts - a thing she has become good at this last era - and walks into the bedroom. Wrapping her shawl tightly around herself, she lies down upon the straw mattress. As soon as Muri closes her eyes she becomes very aware of how much they were stinging. It doesn’t take long for her to drop off into a deep slumber, where she dreams about vast meadows, fast running streams and a great silver fish with whiskers.