PM to join Trees that grew out of the Sea (Daishira)

[Arianthe Swansong]

Time: 15th of Winter 512 AV - Late Afternoon Where: The Cerulean Pier The sun had already started setting and, as Arianthe sat there, a book open in her lap, looking out at the sea, she was not struck by the usual thoughts of the romance and beauty of what she was looking at but by the knowledge that the lights were dimming and very soon she would have no more natural light, which she knew was bad for her eyesight. With a small smile, realising that she had written nothing very good that day, she screwed the stopper back into her pot of ink, stood up and tucked the jar, the quill and the book into the pocket in the folds of her cloak. She looked around her with a smile and noted two students coming out of the Tavern on the pier, visibly a little the worse for wear for they could hardly walk and, a moment later, another few students appeared behind them laughing and encouraging them to make a spectacle of themselves. Arianthe smiled lightly. If one drank so much so early in the day, what could one expect? There were too many people who had too little experience of what that level of drinking could lead to. Arianthe turned away, almost shaking her head with a cynical smile and started walking, but not back off the pier. Rather, to the end of it so that she would have a better view of the sea. There had been a painting of the view from this pier in the entrance hall of the house she used to share with her husband and though, to her, the comfortable town house belonging to a member of the gentry had been something worse than a prison, the painting had always been a reminder to her of the world about her and a vision of freedom. She had grown attached to it, and it was the only thing that did not hold purely bad memories out of all the objects that had been in that house. Even the harp had been used against her in the end for he had liked to listen to her play it and would sometimes drag her out in the middle of the night to play, as a way of testing her loyalty to him. The painting was one of those little things. Little things that helped one live through it. Arianthe pulled her cloak in closer, shook her head to expel the thoughts and turned back to look at the pier pensively.