17,Zephyr, 1327 

Lafey found me, after I had taken my Silence, and we spoke about even more fascinating things. How interesting humans are, they've such strange intricacy in their mannerisms and practices. I do also appreciate their little huffs, or perhaps that is just a gift of Lafey's. I learned she studied necromancy, a particularly fascinating facet of magic, as well as more about the human gods.

We walked about her grand city. One of the first things we encountered were little homes for books.

Books: (In Divinity's Reach) They seem to live on small cart-homes, belonging to a particular person who may or may not be around. The books do not like to be moved too far from these homes, or they will become upset. Looking them over near their homes is alright, however; I will need to remember this, and travel amongst the homes of books, so that their knowledge may be granted to my own.

We then went on to visit a shrine of Grenth, the graveyard, a shrine of [ink spot]Kormith? Kormir? I do not remember her name, the goddess of Truth, and a slab of Abaddon. [another ink blot]

A slight off casting breeze to my thoughts, but I believe it is important. Abaddon. The god of Secrets. Something about him seemed... strangely familiar, as a scent smelled once during a time grand enough for memory, and getting just a hint of it again. It was beyond normal interest, it was like a pull, almost, something Unseen but There. I touched his slab, despite what others may have thought, under the unsight of my magic. I suppose only I and the slab felt the touch, and none others saw it. I thought, perhaps, it would give me more to this feeling, but it was too brief; I would need more time. Regardless, his subject, despite being seemingly dead (do gods really die?) is one that I wish to follow. I am glad Lafey mentioned him to me, as.. it seems, though familiar, something I had altogether forgotten until her words reached my leaves. I do not even know if it was there to remember, but it was definitely there.

[ink spot]

There was also the subject of human death, and death itself, which is fascinating in many ways. For sylvari, death seems to be a transfer of knowledge; the Pale Tree receives what was learned, the most powerful memories, from the sylvari as they pass. It is fascinating, as then this knowledge may be found in the Dream by other sylvari, and perhaps the Tree herself. A grand, expansive place of once-experience, not simply facilitated by death, but is part of it. A logical, interesting cycle.

Humans, though, do not have this cycle. According to Lafey, there is nothing left behind once a human dies; the knowledge they have is given to Grenth alone, and unless the human had chosen to give their knowledge in life, their secrets will remain secrets to all but the god of death. She says that they are lonely, though I find it fascinating; to be able to choose what it is to give. It is not simply a matter of proximity, sensitivity, nor a flowing Dream, but a matter of Choice. Sylvari do not choose their knowledge. From the Dream, they are given direction, but it is often not of their choosing amidst all possibilities. What they are given becomes right.[blot]

I will need to contemplate this more. Though, first I will conclude, as thereafter the visits, we stopped to rest by the garden of the goddess Melandru, of nature. The conversation was wonderful and insightful. I have been given a gift to have met such a human, and I hope our sharing of knowledge continues. Meanwhile, I think I will see more of that I can here.