Purchases :
1st of Spring, 515 AV (Afternoon)
A day's job well done.
Ataraxia hefted his backpack with one hand, checking to see that he hadn't jarred Kyrie too much and woken her up. Thankfully, even though the glassware (in a seperate pouch) had clinked against each other overmuch, she slept on, snugly wrapped in his old cloak.
"Just go on an' sleep, lass, we'll be right back home..."
He contemplated the word for a while, feeling the strangeness of referring to a new place as such. Perhaps it was the lingering remnants of the malaise that had plagued him during his sea-journey away from Alvadas, but he actually felt homesick for a moment.
"I guess that'll pass..." He mumbled, more to himself than Kyrie.
There. He had arrived at the beach south of the Plunge Pool bay.
"Be nice if I could find some good driftwood, eh, Missy?
It was becoming a tradition. Every year, on the day the Djed storm ravaged Mizahar, he'd build - or rather, if it was already built, repair and improve - a simple structure and hold a rudimentary ceremony for his family, incorporating the things they loved.
A pipe of tobacco, for the many smoking-cum-bonding sessions he shared with his father after many a day's work.
Herbs to burn, to create the fragrance his mother, and her mother before that, had floating throughout the house - the smell of which he had always associated with his mother's presence.
Finally, a small trinket or something unique for his little sister, who had always loved the gifts he had given her.
He didn't know what happened to them after death. Did they come back as ghosts? Did they go on to another life?
Questions for the wiser, he guessed. He put those thoughts away and walked along the edge of the beach, allowing the waves to lap at his feet.
Here and there, he picked up pieces of driftwood - some still bearing their original colours, others bleached by the sun - of varying sizes, examining them with a keen eye before discarding some and tying up others to a thick rope, dragging them behind him.
An hour passed, and he had only accumulated a few pieces, their lengths varying from the length of a finger to an arm, before his eyes lit up, having spotted a curious piece, half-buried in the sand, with many a branch that strongly resembled the antlers of a fully mature buck.