A year has passed in this world. It feels much longer.

[There's an exhale of breath, and she leans back in her chair, taking a sip of something. Only a year, and yet so much had transpired.]

And what of my time on Azeroth? It now feels as if it had all been a dream, though I know that I stood in Quel'Thalas. The threat remains as I spend my days sailing and playing "pirate." How ridiculous. I know well enough that I will return to that very moment, but the thought of such unfinished business turns my stomach. The Zandalari will soon regret their actions.

[Her pen stops for a moment, looking around her. The room has seen better days, though she has cleaned most of the mess already. This world is not without its own threats.]

Does time matter? Many say it does not, and yet we cannot help but continue to measure our stay here. Days, weeks, months, years. Losses, departed allies, world changes. Allies met, memories made, gifts given. [She thinks of Sylvanas, alive and well, and quickly dismisses the image.]

Paradisa is cruel. It allows us to settle here and accept it as our fate. I see plans being made for years to come. Do others honestly believe they will remain here? Have they given up the hope of returning to their own worlds? I fear that I might too settle here. With both of my sisters at my side, what more would a Windrunner need? It is the memory of my children and my husband that keep me grounded, and prevent me from accepting this world as my own.

My sons, how I miss you. I know that you are well and in good hands, but I would give anything to return to you and hold you in my arms. You are becoming such fine young men. You will do well in your training.

Rhonin

[She drops her pen and leans forward in her desk, face in her hands. She hates herself for her selfish wish, for wanting him with her. She knows how fascinated he would find it all, and it would make the passage of time so much easier. Their children would be safe, and she would have him to help her through their remaining days in Paradisa... however long they may be.]

Rhonin, take care of them. I will return to you.

Make no mistake, I have grown to care for those I have met here. They are strong allies, and I am honored to have met them.

[Another huff, and she simply dictates the rest.]

I grow tired of these games, Paradisa. This give and take. This... this spell you've seemingly cast upon us. I do not want this. I do not wish to... to find ties to this world, or contemplate how I will spend my days as if I am simply on some sort of vacation.

And I tire of feeling guilty for such thoughts.

[She knows she's simply tired, having spent so many days at sea. She is a ranger, not a sailor. She closes her journal before she rambles any further.]