readnews serenwilde 4140
SERENWILDE NEWS #4140
Date: 1/11/2012 at 9:06
From: Silver Font, Xiran L'Eternae, of Wilder Winter
To  : Everyone
Subj: The Daydreamer's Request

"I shall miss you, all of you. I could never have known sadness like
this, if I had never learned of happiness from you." -- Dasia, the
Daydreamer; 9th of Kiani, 315 CE

On the 8th of Kiani, a most unhappy Dasia, Lord Hoaracle's Ephemeral
Daydreamer, coalesced in Faethorn. It was with a very quiet voice that
she said Eliar, Reveller of Lord-and-Lady Mysrai was gone. She missed
him to the point she could no longer feel anything good anymore.

I could not comprehend, even as she tried to explain. Eliar had thought
she had finished her time, and he became most disraught. She trailed off
as she tried to say what Lord-and-Lady Mysrai was forced to do to
protect His city. Suddenly, she said she would go to the Moonhart to
beseech her Lord for a better ending and fluttered away.

The Wilde gathered about Moonhart Mother that night as Dasia raised her
head high and made her request known: she wished to have her thread cut,
so that she might share the same fate as Eliar. A golden firefly that
had alighted nearby shone and shifted to fully manifest as the Forest
Dreamer. He rumbled gently as Dasia spoke with honesty and sadness, and
it was not long before many of us were holding back tears, including
Lord Hoaracle. Even the trees bowed in awe and sorrow.

Motes of colour began to appear about Dasia as dawn approached. Some
found their voice to assure Dasia she would not be forgotten and to
bless her decision--among them Hiriako, Kreon, Lekius, Lyethal, Scax,
Sivas, Sondayga, and Vasnier. Others--such as Astrasia, Arafinwe,
Arsalil, Enyalida, Rauhaur, Rivius, and Saran--offered quiet support to
Dasia and their commune mates.

Hoods were lowered and hats removed before Lord Hoaracle took His
Daydreamer's hand tightly, asking her to say her last good-byes. It was
then that Dasia bequeathed a painting of herself, a gift from another,
to Hiriako Myeras. Colours surrounded her, flowing and pulsing as Lord
Hoaracle quietly instructed her to dream her last dream.

Enyalida wordlessly drew forth wisps of clouds as we fell to reverent
silence. The breeze stirred, releasing the scent of roses and hyacinths.
And Dasia unravelled into ribbons of light, streaming into the heavens,
arching into a prismatic rainbow over Moonhart Mother as Father Sun rose
over the gentle rain clouds.

For a moment, we heard dear Dasia and her Eliar laughing on that morning
breeze.

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Kiani, in the year 315 CE.