It had become a ritual. A clock could be set by it. Nuada awoke at six in the morning and went to the sparring room to train for two hours. He was tired and breathing hard after ninety minutes but he pushed himself out of sheer stubbornness. So far the only improvement he'd made in his diminished state was four steps up the wall and a handless back-flip. He was certain it was not an improvement so much as acclimating to his limits and shifting into them.
He returned to his rooms, showered and ate, then worked on the wall opposite the sofa in his common room. The marker had been a find. He had immediately applied it. There was no stone to carve, but he had the Elvin need for beauty perhaps more than most because he had witnessed so much ugliness. So he started with the tree of life in black permanent ink. Not the symbol of war, but the summer fullness of the beginning of time.
He ignored the computer. It had proven useless when he had sought answers to the purpose of this space station or anything on the previous occupants. Now it's only practical purpose was to go through the endless list of alien non-human species and familiarize himself with their unique looks and names.
After a while he would seek out the observation room and sit lotus style in front of the glass, his mind trying to reach out to the stars and finding nothing but emptiness. After the first distressing weeks it had become a less active form of meditation.
In the evening he'd return to the sparing room for another two hours of training. He returned to his rooms to shower and eat once more and sit to read books on computers as well as time travel, fact or fiction mattered little. This was the use his 'communicator' went to the most.
It was obviously a tracking device and he had little trust in it.
The next day the ritual began again.
After the third week he'd completed the art on his wall and decided to start one on the wall behind the seats of the observation deck, as it was one of the public places he spent the most time. He worked on it late at night (or what the computers claimed was night) when most were asleep so no one could see who was doing it. Some may have figured it out, but it was amusing to hear others try to answer the riddle.
The riddle he tried to answer was how the marker seemed to have an endless supply of ink.