While I have carried this journal with me for an untold amount of days; I begin my chronicles not on the island but in medias res, after the rescue. With the passing of my nausea it is now with hope that I put ink to parchment. I did ponder writing down the various thoughts I had on the island, but the struggle for basic needs, water, food, and shelter became paramount over my disconnected musings and introspection.
I would have chronicled my time before the island, if I could recall that time or that place. That oddity was the one thing that united us all, the mystery of our past; it was the only thing at first, until we set aside our racial differences and placed our trust in each other for survival. Now weeks later aboard the Overwrought Companion, we must maintain this high level of trust for survival not for just basic needs but for the unknown events and challenges ahead.
So as I sit on the wind swept deck of Captain Zilinias’ sky ship I watch how the Captain’s teams prepare for an attack and marvel at the trust they have in each other’s capabilities; then I think of my friends and the trust they place in me for our survival and how we too will soon assemble as a team.
In the drow language abbil means comrade or trusted associate; but for me it the word means friend. The friendship is treasure to be coveted and protected above all else because without friends to share in adventure with then one risks devolution into loneliness, selfishness, and greed. There is no room in my life for such evils.
Today marks an event as I embark on one of my life-goals, and that is to fly against the azure backdrop the people of my kind shun and hide from. While they fear the sky’s infinity and its promise, I would fly on the thermals, and gaze down upon the land that evil hides beneath. And to do so with my friends, sharing the experience that hopefully will build an unbreakable bond that only the finality of death could break.