49th of Zephyr, 1331
Between the shadows of the dunes and the Dream
Elona. The Crystal Dessert. I've chased my Dream for so long... only to fall prey to a storm and a shipwreck. Typical. My awakening upon the scorching shores of this land reminds me of my Awakening. Both felt so...similar...
At least I've found my equipment. I'd feel lost without my bow. Well...I am lost. I suspect I'm on the borders of the so-called Riverlands. It's far greener than I had imagined. Strange creatures drift over the sands and the waters like feathers on the breeze. They are gentle creatures. I have yet to find people... I wonder if they have ever met a Sylvari... It should be quite the enjoyable encounter.
When I awoke from my dream my people were in turmoil. Little more than a month after, I rushed to war with the Pact in Maguuma... I...find my thoughts to be as eratic as those accursed vines, murky as the poisen that filled my mind then. Perseverance lies before me, here upon the great serpents that crest upon the horizon, and their fluid offspring that trickle around me. I should enjoy this Oasis. I don't expect it to last. Soon this facade of green will give way to the rise and fall, the shifting and morphing of the restless sands. I find myself upon the brink of my Hunt. My dream has lead me here. Amusing. The moment I had heard of the Drytop and Silverwastes, I thought it was of them I dreamt, only to be made the fool as Mordremoth revealed his cruel intent for my kin and I. Once again I am a stranger in a strange land but now... only now do I feel as though I am at the precipice of my life.
I found a fisherwoman along the banks of the river. She had fished up my missing boot and was kind enough to return it to me and my sunbaked toes. What was lost has been found. Well.. except for my coin...and my spare clothes...most of my luggage, my gauntlets, my rations and.. well that's it really. At least I have the clothes on my back, my bow and journal. And Cerias said I was a strange twig for keeping a fountain pen on my person.
The fisherwoman is refreshingly generous and has offered me a a bedroll for the night. She is equally generous with gossip. Between a narnarcissistic litch, legions of undead, warmongering fanatics and man-eating wildlife, the Dessert is bursting with curiosities. I offered to work off this debt but she says that my conpany is quite enough. Apparently she had met another Sylvari traveling with the Vigil. I find myself a bit humorously dejected by this, perhaps it is vanity to wish others to fawn over my foreignness. Ngali - that is the fisherwoman's name - has been kind enough to point me north toward the nearest settlement. I will depart for it come morn.
I asked her about those playful drifters, and she informed me that they are called Skimmers. Lovely creatures, she treated me to a playful game with her own Skimmer - which apparently can be mounted and rode across the dessert. The game involved dance-like movements through the shallow stream, smooth and slow twists and turns which resulting in her own - and wild skimmers to dance and twirl along with us. It was glorious, free. These riverlands are a calm, beautiful place.
My grows clouded with the seductions of slumber. I shall retire for the night. I hope the crew have been as fortunate as I.
I look forward to dawn.