Solo Log: Willem

**Winter, 482 AOV**

For a subtropical country, the Risuri coast is *freezing* this time of year, especially so close to the water. He's so cold that he can't feel his fingers anymore, his pencil sketches of the minimally-explored rocky beach of the Eastern Avery Coast becoming increasingly illegible. The west-blowing wind is cutting right through his coat, and though the sense forests off the shoreline prevent wind from the opposite direction they also have kept a great deal of the sunshine at bay, as well.

Not for the first time, he wonders why exactly he chose this as the site of his research.

He's about to call it quits for the day, closing his notebook in thinly veiled frustration, when someone clears their throat behind him. He's glad, immediately, that he isn't sitting close to the edge of the cliff any longer as he almost jumps out of his skin.

"Oh! Oh--I'm–I'm *sorry*! I didn't mean to–"

"*Father of Thunder*, you can't sneak up on people like that!" The swear leaves him before he catches himself, and he snatches his pencil before it can roll further into the treeline.

As he moves, she steps out of the shadow cast by the forest, and he wonders if maybe she got herself lost. Separated from her family, travelers, merchants perhaps? She is far too small to be on her own, particularly so removed from civilization. Guilt immediately settles in his stomach. "Sorry for shouting," he starts tentatively, his tone changing from aggravated to gentle. "Did you get lost? You're pretty young to be traveling alone."

"*Hey*! I'm probably older than you are!" She pulls back her hood and yanks her hat from over her ears just long enough for him to catch the pointed shape of…fey. Fey-ish. Fey something. "I'm not a little kid."

Well. The fact that she was green would've been enough for him to figure she wasn't human, anyway.

"Sorry, sorry," he waves off her anger, in neither the mood nor with the energy to handle it beyond the outburst. "You just…"

"I *know*. I'm small, gnomes are pretty rare in Risur, you've not seen one before, I get it," she explains quickly. "Not important. I was just going to ask if you wanted to share camp. It's safer in groups, and I was already making some soup…and I'd love to see what you're working on, if you don't mind."

—

The gnome, it turns out, is a young traveler named Fijit who was on her way up the coast after a brief stint in Ber. Initially, Willem just humors her curiosity in exchange for a meal and the fire, but when she begins explaining the observations she's made so far in her travels he's eager to share his work. Before long, they've traveled several days together up the coast, and his progress has increased exponentially with the addition of an extra set of hands. Her music is a remarkable boon, as well, and he has to admit that he enjoys having company.

"I have to be back in classes at the start of the spring quarter," he explains one afternoon as they take careful measurements of the area from one of the granite cliffs that Willem is careful to avoid. He does have to admit that the view is much better from up here, though he also does find himself unpleasantly reminded of his own mortality from so high. "Spring 20th. It's part of my tuition. I never could've afforded Pardwright otherwise."

"We'll finish before you have to be back." She laughs, easily. "And I'm sure you're a great teacher."

"I never really wanted to, but…"

"I didn't know anything about map-making until I ran into you, and now I can draw a…well, it's *sort of* decent. I guess."

"Your notes help even if your cartography skills are lacking." He hides his chuckle behind his notebook.

"You better be nice, or I'm not going to help anymore," she huffs.

"Please," he replies, tone serious, "if I'm stuck working out here on the coast alone again I think I'm going to go crazy."

—

Signs of spring are starting to creep up in the sprouting plants and warmer days by the time he's finished enough of his work to return to the dormitory in Flint, and though he has enjoyed traveling with his newfound friend he is looking forward to being back in civilization. Still, for someone so well traveled, Fijit hesitates just outside of Flint proper.

"I thought you were going to stay a night or two before you went on your way," he presses, curious. "We've been in the woods for weeks. You even longer than I have. A roof and warm bed would probably be a nice change."

She shuffles her weight with a sheepish smile. "No…I probably should just get going. I'd like to make it to Slate before the first ships of the season start heading out to Danor. I'd like to learn a little more about their technology."

"Danor?" He can't help but be disappointed, and hopes it doesn't show on his face. It isn't often he feels his age, so much younger than his tiny research assistant, but– "I guess you wouldn't be back by the end of spring, if you're headed so far out?"

"Hmm?" She's swapping her heavier coat for something lighter, stuffing the bulky item into her enchanted backpack and glancing at his curiously. "What's at the end of spring?"

"I'm graduating. My folks won't be able to make it–way too far out in the countryside, and during the busy season too."

Fijit doesn't meet his eyes as she slips further away, back towards the trail they'd just come from, shrugging her bag over her shoulder.

"Oh…I don't know. I get around a lot. We'll see."

She skips back quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug before hurrying off. "Study hard, Dr. Marks!"

—

He's not certain, but he would swear there's a puff of very familiar green hair in the crowd the day of graduation.