The chill of winter seems to be ever so slowly melting away, and I have returned once again to the familair shores of Valorn.
What a shame it is that few of the faces are as familair as the land. It feels as though I hardly reconise a soul anymore.

A funny thing it is, to be alone. I am beginning to feel more and more the 'outsider' - However, Caritta reassures me that with my return the natives will have to return to some degree of 'elegance'. I do hope her prediction is correct. I am already growing weary of the initiates stares. To the others, I imagine I am now merely a part of the flora and fauna (perhaps even worthly of a page in Azure's field guide!).

I departed again, yes. I returned once thinking myself well, only to discover I was not at all.
'Everything hurts more in the winter', Jericho was indeed correct.

A funny thing it is to be alone, indeed... And alone I have been since you died Celeste.

It is odd to write it so stark. So bold it appears upon the page. But I have been trying to address the fact that you are no longer here. Perhaps then I may heal?
It has been over ten years. But still, the ache in my heart is fresh whenever I ponder too deeply upon the matter.

Where exactly to begin...
You were beautiful. Equisite even. Perfect in every way imaginable: From your daintily small feet, to your puckered rose of a mouth (that you always worried was too large for your face...). Hair like spun gold that would softly curl against your creamy skin, long golden lashes that would fan over your cheeks. The delicately pointed chin of your heart shaped face, that you would rest upon you little, clenched fist when you were sulking...

I am glad that I remember your face, I feared that I would forget.

But of course, you were also obnoxious, petulant, volatile and an utter brat. You would screech like a tyrant. You had no patience. You were liable to tantrums of gargantuan magnitudes. You were utterly impossible. If I did not love you, then I surely would hate you.

It is a long story, and forgive me Celeste, but the wine is rather beginning to get to my head. I perhaps will tell more another quiet evening.