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Vilya always tried to return with a gift for Keyleth - a small toy or flower or sweet. It hurt every single time she had to leave her daughter, every single time she hugged her goodbye, a final kiss on the forehead. Every single time she left she tries her best to imprint the weight and feel of her daughter's tiny body in her memory, the smell of her skin and sound of her voice.
Searching for a gift is a way to get Vilya to leave her family, telling herself that there will be more on her return.
She's not even a half day's journey from Zephrah when she collects her first treasure, a maple leaf the same color as her daughter's hair. It had travelled on the breeze and stuck in her puma fur, and she'd discovered it as she transitioned back for supper, she held it and softly pet the leaf. It had been only a few hours since she had hugged her child but she still felt the threat of tears behind her eyes. Vilya placed it in her journal and
In Terrah she met Brodrim, a dwarf who molded stone and clay. He was a quiet sort, solid. She told him of Keyleth, of Zephrah and home and what it was like traveling. Vilya had never been good at being alone for weeks on end, and the presence of another for hours on end felt like a cool drink of water as she's been dying of thirst. She was never sure if he was listening or ignoring her ramblings until he gifted her with a small stone tiger, her daughter's favorite animal.
"For your daughter," he said, and then grunted when she'd profusely thanked him.
She found out later that he'd had a son, but that was many months later. A year later, she found out that the son was gone.
In Pyrah she found a wall of obsidian that shone like a waterfall at sunset, burnt umber and sky blues and sea greens undulating on this fire rock with a mesmerizing sheen. She ran her hands over it and thought of her path, and what her daughter's path would most likely be, one day. She hoped that her daughter would never have to take on her mantle, that she would be allowed to live and love and pass unburdened. But she also knew her daughter's gifts, and the pressure to have another druid ready, in case she passed.
And she did not want to admit it, but she did not want to watch her daughter grow old and die. She did not want to be alone, but she also did not want that for her daughter.
Vilya broke off a small slice and palmed it. It cut her hands as she entered the fire plane and held it too tightly, and she remembered to let it slip into her pack. Elrith had laid hands on her to cure her woulds after, but she requested that one heal on its own, to remember.
In Vesrah, Vilya combed the beach for hours, searching for the best shell. She let the waves soothe her before her trial. Still, she brimmed with nervous energy she could not quell. Soon, she would be home. Soon, she would be a leader. Soon, she would see her daughter - a daughter that had been separated for her mother for half of her life.
There was no shell that would make up for those years, but she felt she needed to try.
As the sun set, she settled on a conch shell and set it carefully in her pack.
Viridian set the leaf, the statue, the conch, and the stone on the pile in front of Vokodo. He deemed them trash, then asked for more.