Work Text:
The lighthouse would shine the way for any ventures. Esnoir knew that, he was the one that did most of the maintenance on it.
He looked upon the horizon as the windmill ship fared against it, watching it slowly disappear into the far edge. He missed his neighbour and friend already. Rozel would always try to convince him to join him on his ventures.
Esnoir always declined, though; if he wasn't here, who would look after the lighthouse? And if the lighthouse fell into disrepair, all of the venturers would never find their way back home. He didn't want anyone to be lost in the sea of the outside. Despite Rozel claiming that he would always know where the lighthouse was, Esnoir couldn't help but worry.
He stepped away from the edge and walked to the swing, where he sat down, turning his head to look upon the Toytanium mines. The scenery was beautiful and he didn't really understand how anyone could decide to leave. But everyone was different, he supposed.
He held his pickaxe in his hand; that particular one had been a gift from Rozel. His friend had it specifically engraved with flowers he didn't quite recognize on the handle, but they were beautiful nevertheless. Rozel must have picked up the pattern on his last venture and Esnoir couldn't be more thankful for it. Even if he didn't come back he would always have something to remember him by. But Rozel would come back, he knew it.
With his mind wandering off to memories of their long friendship, he glanced up at the waterfall and the cliffs, before turning his gaze upon the lighthouse, the shining lamp being a beacon of home for anyone looking upon it.
He missed his friend, he missed Rozel.
He started to softly swing, trying his best to keep his mind off the possibilities of what could happen to his dear friend. He had seen the way ventures could change people, making them talk about the ‘value’ of a hat instead of the woven patterns in it. He could never understand it, he thought.
His eyes continued roaming the area and eventually settled onto a small island behind the lighthouse. It reminded him of his neighbours there, Panuelle and Chauvigne. The latter was planning on going on a venture soon and the former had planned to stay behind, just like Rozel and him. Esnoir considered inviting the two of them for some tea together and, even though tea always tasted the best when he was with Rozel, the mere presence of his friend making him pick up on flavour notes he wouldn't even have noticed, it was still better than drinking tea alone.
He then pondered a little, what game should they play when he came back? Perhaps some hopscotch, or maybe hide-and-seek? So many possibilities. Or perhaps they could simply sit on the swings and talk, just like they always did, the mere memory making him smile fondly. Once more, he glanced down at the foreign yet precious engravings on his pickaxe. He missed his friend.
He looked up at the light again, as he murmured quietly:
“May the glow of the lighthouse bring any lost wayfarers home…”