27th, Winter 512 AV
The bonesnapper tugged and pulled to anchor his step. Its wake continued for few moments before it found another target to tickle and was gone with a roar. The chills were far from spinal, but there were few that could make the hair on his arm stand. Clear skies made everything better and worse all at one time. Leth could be sensed with the feintest glow without clouds hindering his sight, but the resulting drop in heat was somewhat alarming. Sure this was no winter like they had them in Kalea... or Izurdin forbid, Taldera; but it was harsh enough for the alien to shake as he neared the apex of his journery - the docks.
There was little hindrance in his path, he was his own lantern with Leth provided moonshine upon the revealed skin. These strides did him good these days for few dared to venture out so openly. It was the divinity of his once blood that protected him from harm, but it was still quite pleasing to have an entire road to one's self.
The water was near and he could see faint reflections upon the surface of it, this would be a good place to stop, he knew. For all their glory, his silvered eyes were nothing more than those of a human. If he could have the piercing gaze of his Isur counterpart even in these blessed hours then he would've been worthy to gauge the moon.
Normally one would expect people who derived their very existence from the sea and its salt god to have a shrine for the one who in a way keeps the tide where it's supposed to be. Alas, the Zeltivans were not tidefolk, instead one could call them seafarers... every last one of them. Having never seen a ship and coming from Zeltiva was a better job reccomendation than actually serving on some puny vessel from Syliras - or so he figured.
It would be the hour of thieves soon, and in these strange hours he was best to find refuge in his home. The nights were too rowdy to have him do as he wishes without thoughts of consequence. He would leave soon, but he needed to pray first. Kneeling down simply and on both legs, he would keep his back straight to appear proud even in his humility. Valanir was part strength incarnate after all! Closing his eyes, he would clasp one hand firmly around the spear at his side. He might've been religious, but he was no fool.
The words were silent, all but unaudible.
"These are trying days, my lord" shaking off the thought he was being watched, he'd press on "Why must the nights reclaim these curses? Was it not you who sent us all here to find what was wrong with this world before climbing back into Ukalas? I had many things to see, more so to fix, but none felt filling enough to actually grant me peace of mind" he'd sigh "Lord! My will is iron, but I'm afraid my faith in the fall being reasonable is beginning to recede... I pray for direction, luminous one! I pray for direction and that you know that your child won't fail you even when struck with disaster." the voice was gone, but nothing moved on the ethaefal. Even his breathing stopped as if not to hinder the message in reaching the distant heavens. They were far from such grace after all.