Soul to Paper [Lyra]

[Finn]

67 Ash 120

The prescribed four days had passed, but quite a bit had changed. The wound had mostly healed after the first day, much as Lyra had predicted. Then they had run into each other in the depths of the Warrens and much had happened there. After that, he had visited his red-robed tutor, describing certain types of magic to an expert without giving any indication who had used them. Talon Novalys likely had the Rune of Negation inscribed somewhere on his body to make wards. Lyra used blood magic, which meant she was most likely a necromancer, and her focus on glyphs pointed to scrivening.

This still didn't give much context to a neophyte like Finn, but he had names for things. They gave him foundations to build upon.

And so he returned to Ale'Ephirum, the place of that which was lost. The door barely creaked as he let himself in, feeling the sudden shift in everything. The street outside was another world entirely. This was the place with dangerous, empty shelves, tools for chronicling history, music, stories, and whatever else the mind might imagine. This was the place ruled over by a human who spoke ancient elven tongues. He would share whatever stories he learned, but he was determined to learn some from her. And perhaps her ancient tongue.

He had so many questions: how long would her magic bespell his blade, for example. But he knew he would have to play things correctly to encourage her to share. Finn got the sense that Lyra was a collector, like a dragon with her hoard. He didn't intend to deceive her, but it would require a certain amount of charm to persuade her that he was trustworthy.

And he was trustworthy. Thankfully, even when he had struggled, he hadn't starved. He wasn't driven to desperation by anything. His curiosity was abiding, but he had no desire to hurt anyone or subvert their desires.

"Hello," he said, finding her where he had found her the last time, though that seemed an age ago, at least to him. "Be'afel, returning as promised." His mouth was curved in a self-deprecating smile. It didn't matter so much if she wasn't demonstrative; he was excited to take this next step toward his future.

[Lyra]

The sound of the bell as the shop door opened made Lyra lookup. the last several days had been... exciting, far more than she usually would have cared for. As such Lyra was somewhat relieved to be back behind the desk, attending the shop as customers came and went after buying their goods. Today she was working on a new set of scrolls, or rather the designs for them. Her desk was scattered with half-finished Schema, some of which were scratched out in places. She knew she had limited resources at the moment, and thus she had to do the most with what little she had. It was in this that Lyra came to a realization. She had never, in her past life, had to worry so much over the efficiency of her craft. Back during the Age of Wonders, the world had been stuffed with Aether, the very air sang with it. If one were slightly off in their creation, then the abundant ambient aether would simply... fill in the gaps. Though back then magic itself worked very differently, responding almost to consciousness and will instead of being tied so closely to the runes of power.

When Finn appeared Lyra offered a small smile, a bit more genuine than she would normally give perhaps. She waved a hand as he approached, a greeting before she looked back down at the scroll she was working on. This one was a series of interlaced weaves that looked like vines wrapping crystals. At each point where the vine touched the crystal, there was a series of pictographs worked into the shape. Symbols of fire and heat, rejuvenation. The glyph seemed to be geared toward cultivation, much like a greenhouse. As Lyra worked, however, her smile slipped away and she frowned.

"Once, long ago now, I told a student of mine that the Scripts were possessed of a soul." She scratched out a few lines, tapping her chin in thought as she glanced up at Finn, "If that is the case, then this one's soul wishes for my madness."

With a sigh Lyra pushed the paper away, letting her pen fall to the desk with a clatter. Leaning back she touched fingers to her temples, rubbing them lightly, "How fare you, Be'afel?" She let her hands fall, looking up at Finn, "Are you well after the events of a few days ago?"

[Finn]

"Having seen you in action now," he said, having watched with ignorant curiosity from across her desk, "I am even more certain that I would not want to be on the receiving end of your madness. I hope your script learns not to be so foolish as some wraiths we used to know." His smile was quick and a shade darker than it had been four days prior. One could earn gravitas through experience; perhaps he had—just a little. "I am fairly certain I'll survive, thanks in part to you. Thank you again for your help."

They had been a team, but she seemed like the sort who preferred to play solo. Curious now, he had opened up his senses through the Rune hidden under his hair, listening for the faint tones of her symphony, given rhythm by the determined scratching of her pen. Now, at least, he had a sense of her. He didn't dig. He didn't change anything. He just wanted to listen, to know her better, even if only on an empathic level.

"If you are going to call me Be'afel, then what should I call you? The only words of ancient Vallenor I know are the ones you taught me."

He had an idle thought that flickered and then flittered away, perhaps to return if and when he had gone through some learning at the Academy. He wondered how her script caught the aether and bade it attend her wishes. He wondered if he could learn it. He wondered if he could apply musical notation to the art of scrivening, as his red-robed tutor called it, and perhaps lay down an emotional counterpoint to his music with a bit of the mesmerism.

But it was only a momentary thought and then he was entirely present again.

"I wonder if our brief adventure into the Warrens merits a song to immortalize it..." He considered this with another playful half-smile. When he tripped over himself and garnered a genuine, unguarded reaction from Lyra, it made him feel like he was performing well for a crowd, like he was fulfilling his purpose. Perhaps underneath the symptoms of his passions were a deeper dis-ease—people needed music to be more in tune with their own thoughts and feelings. Perhaps more than fame and adulation, he wanted to help people.

That was a thought to chase down the rabbit-hole another time, though.

[Lyra]

Frustration played a staccato beat through Lyra's rhythms, the note breaking and interrupting the steady flow of focus and concentration. Beneath it all was a deep base of exhaustion, and something more that Lyra was suppressing. A cold note, soft but still there. Unease masked by the need to keep working.

"How I would wish for another of those sorts instead of this nonsense." she said, frowning at the page. Taking up the pen once more Lyra drew a quick design in one corner, lines tracing from it to the edges of the page. She then carefully touched that corner to a softly orange glowing gem, a fire shard, that was sitting at the edge of her desk in a small metal stand. The pictograph flickered with light before flames began to lick up the page.

"You know the old tongue?" Lyra asked, curious as she held the page up between two fingers. The fire steadily ate away at the paper, inching closer and closer to Lyra's fingers. She seemed to give his question some thought before waving an absent hand, "Lyra shall suffice, I think. Unless you wish to all me something else?"

Just as the fire almost touched the tip of her index finger Lyra released the paper. The fire flared, and then went out, leaving just a small sprinkling of ash to fall slowly to the floor. Lyra stared down at the ash, nudging it scornfully with one toe as she stamped out the last of the small embers.

"If you wish to create a song, Be'afel, I would request you leave me out of your verse." As she grimaced her symphony changed slightly, a soft hint of something very similar to shame or embarrassment cutting the frustration and pressing on her confidence. As quick as it came, however, Lyra stamped it out, "I have found the story's of bards to be... somewhat misleading in their subject matter."

Lyra felt a slight tingling along her skin, and she tiled her head slightly to one side, as if listening for something. Gold eyes glanced around before setting on Finn, looking at him with interest for a moment. Finally she broke the gaze, leaning down and pulling from one drawer two items, setting them on the desk between Finn and herself.

One item was a book, a journal with a light blue cover and a small lightly glowing shard at its center. The edges of the cover there was a design like music bars that lead around the entire front and back cover. On the front cover there was a design like a stylized eye in the shape of a musical note, with the aetherite shard at its center acting as the pupil. A similar design was on the back cover as well. On the edge of the front and back cover, on the side the book opens from, there were small harp looking designs, and along the spine there was another series of eyes shaped like musical notes. At the very bottom of the spine was a small picture of a snake curled on itself. The snake had no eyes.

On top of the book Lyra placed a pen that was just a bit longer than the length of her hand. The pen was made of wood and hand a small glowing shard at one end, and a fine metal tip at the other. The body of the pen had several designs along its surface. A brick like texture near the center, stylized fingerprints near the head, a harp and what looked like ink drops near the shard.

"I have completed the items we discussed previously." She pushed the book and pen toward Finn, motioning for him to inspect them, "Tell me if you find them to your liking." Lyra also passed a small vial of ink for Finn to use to try out.

► Show Spoiler

When Finn touches the book the pictographs will glow slightly, fading quickly with the harp fading last. The inside cover is blue as well.

Grimoire Scriv Lv3 (Commission for Finn): The Grimoire is simple in design and look. Its cover is of a faint blue leather, with a blue cover page. The front cover has an aetherite shard embedded with the glyphs that cover its surface. At the edge of the front and back cover is a stylized harp with what looks like musical bars leading around the edges. The center of both covers is a large eye that is stylized in the shape of a musical note. Similar musical note eyes line the spine of the book, and at the very bottom of the spine is a small curled serpent with no eyes. The book can only be opened by Finn, Lyra, or if its Pen is present next to it. While closed the book is sturdy enough to handle double the wear and tear a normal book can take before giving out. In addition, it is both waterproof and fire-resistant. If plunged into water or thrown in a fire it will inevitably have its wards broken and it will be destroyed as any other book might.

Amateur's Pen (Scriv Lv3): The pen is made of wood with a small aetherite shard at one end, and a fine metal tip at the other. It is covered with several types of pictographs, most notably what looks like fingerprints near the tip, a brick design at its center, A harp, and drops of ink. The effects of the pen can only be drawn out by Finn or Lyra. When it is held one feels their doubt abate and their confidence in what they are writing or drawing increase, steadying their hand and helping to improve their work though it has no direct effect on one's skill level. The pen itself can be used to draw ink into the glyphs and stored for a short time, typically as long as it takes to move from the ink well to the paper. Once the pen touches paper the ink is expelled at a steady rate. Touching the gem to dried ink will make the ink rise from the surface of the page before disintegrating, effectively erasing it. This effect cannot be targeted. Any ink within a small area around the place touched will be erased as well.

[Finn]

Finn shook his head, watching her efforts with his usual curiosity.

"I asked you if it was Eldhan, but you said it was older. I hazarded an educated guess." Her response was telling, though he was learning to pay close attention to what she said and what she didn't say, what her words implied and they merely flirted with. He didn't know her well, but he was starting to see how her speech was like music — meaning offered with as many layers as an onion had skins.

"I shall call you Lyra until a better name presents itself."

The destruction of her work begged questions, but he didn't ask them yet, not wanting to wear out his welcome and demand too much too quickly. He got the sense that if he wanted her to keep sharing pearls of wisdom, he was going to have to let her pace herself. This wasn't an interview, after all. He could understand destroying one's own work. He had torn up many a page of music that just wasn't adding up to the sum total he heard in his head. Her way was, admittedly, more theatrical and he appreciated that.

"History is told by the winners," he agreed. "Artists sacrifice what's real for what's true. At least, the best of them do, I think."

When she presented her handiwork, he took it carefully, turning everything over and examining it. The ink sat unused for the moment. The glyphs glowed and then they didn't. He glanced at her eyes for understanding, but she was only watching him and so he went back to his examination.

"This design, did I inspire it or... does it mean something in particular to you?" Certainly, the pictographs were magical in nature, but the decorations seemed arcane without being arcana. But what did he know?

[Lyra]

"Perhaps both." Lyra answered, sitting back in her chair, "The design itself has meaning, which was in part inspired by you and our discussion."

She extended a hand, palm up, nodding toward the pen. Once he gave it over she would extend her other hand for the book. She held the book by its spine, raising it so that its face was toward Finn. The pen was held up a short way away from the book.

"I thought on what you had said. You wish to make an impression upon those of House Zatrian. To that end I designed something which would give you the look of professionalism, without taking away from the creative air you aim to present." She turned the book so that it faced her, running a finger along the harp at the edge of the book, "This, however, is no simple portfolio. It is a true Grimoire, and it shall keep safe all that you place inside of it."

She set the book on the desk, as well as the pen some distance from the journal. Lyra then reached forward and grasped the edge of the book, intentionally making the motions as if to open it. The book, however, resisted and Lyra intentionally did not activate the small glyph on the spine that would give her access.

"The journal itself is warded so that none may open it." She smiled slightly, "None save for you, that is. Try for yourself." At this she would push the book toward Finn, prompting him to try and open the book, which it would do so easily, the glyphs glowing slightly as he touched it. When he was satisficed Lyra would accept the book back.

"You, Be'afel, are the only one who can utilize this grimoire freely." Lyra picked up the pen, bring it close to the book now. The glyphs on both the pen and the book shimmered, and this time when Lyra tried to open the book it did so without issue, "Others who wish to view what is inside will either require you to show them its contents, or possess this pen which is the only key."

Leaving the book open Lyra pulled the vial of ink toward her, dipping the pen and holding it there for a few seconds. The glyphs once more shimmered, and when the glow stopped she raised the pen and began to draw simple shapes on a page, "This instrument is tied to this journal. You said before you worried your hand could not write what it is you saw in your mind and heard in your soul. So long as you use this pen in this grimoire what you create will be steady and true. It is no substitute for skill of course, but it will aid you as you progress in skill." After she had drawn a few shapes Lyra flipped the pen around in her fingers, touching the gem to one shape in particular. After just a moment the ink on the page wavered, rising from the page and disintegrating.

"Just in case, however, this pen will also allow you to erase the works inside of this grimoire. I suggest you strive to never require that function." She closed the book, setting the pen on top and pushed it toward Finn once more, "While the book remains closed it is strong as stone, able to resist the affects of water and fire, and is not easily damaged by anything save magic and the fiercest elements. It is, perhaps, one of the best places for those secret things you shall one day uncover, as I am sure you will do one day."

With that she took her hand from the items, sitting back with a self satisfied smile, "What say you? Will this do?"

[Finn]

Finn gave and took the book and pen whenever Lyra requested it of him. This thing was magical, which was a mystery to him. He needed the demonstration to understand even the functions of the thing. A grimoire for a minstrel with dreams bigger than his humble origins — it seemed a strange thing, but perhaps an essential thing for what he had in mind for his life.

"Well, I hope they don't try to keep it," he said, bemused. He had thought his portfolio would be something he gave them to consider, then receive back when their decision was made. This changed things. He would have to show them the pages and perhaps explain why they couldn't take it with them. Would they be impressed by the magic or wonder whether he needed patronage if he could afford such things, this Low-City songster with a magic book and an outsized estimation of his future?

"It is much more than I anticipated. Thank you." The way the magic responded to his hands, he almost wondered if it was alive, bordering on sentient. Would it become his friend? It would certainly become his confidant, holding tightly to his best music, the best lore recovered from the Academy's archives, and keeping them safe from time and weather.

"If..." he turned his curious blue gaze upon her again, "if someone from House Zatrian asks where I got this, should I answer honestly?" He didn't know if she wanted him to represent her and her business through word of mouth or if an association with him would damage her reputation as an artisan of magical things.

"I suppose I'll have to take up the harp while I'm at it," he murmured to himself, running his thumb back and forth over one of the harp etchings. Then, "Are you the eyeless snake?"

[Lyra]

"If they wish to keep it that is well, though I would suggest you make copies of the works in this book." Lyra said, raising a finger, "If I recall you purchased another book. Typically one does not allow their original works to leave their hand, but instead a copy which can be tampered with or destroyed without fear."

She watched Finn with a curious expression, one finger absently playing with the collar of her robes. At his questions Lyra smiled, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a thin slip of paper as long as her finger and half as wide as her palm. Taking up one of the pens on her desk she drew a quick series of strokes. A serpent coiled in on itself, with no eyes. In large bold letters, she wrote out Ale'Epherium. She waved the paper in the air so that the ink would dry.

"Should they ask then present this to them." She handed the paper to Finn, "Tell them that a family friend had connections with Lyra, and negotiated on your behalf to have this prepared. If they inquire too much then plead ignorance and simply direct them to speak with me. I shall assure them that the items were a favor owed, and you are currently working part-time here to subsidize the costs."

There was a short pause while Lyra looked a bit uncertain, "You do not have to accept this, Be'afel, if you do not wish. I admit I may have gotten a bit... carried away."

[Finn]

Finn nodded in response to her and also to his own inner monologue. This grimoire would have to be just for him, and they would be able to peruse those songs he inscribed in the other, lesser (though still great) notebook. If they couldn't promise to return that, he would excise the pages with a penknife and let them have those copies, though he would want them back. Though he knew he would need to show them his compositions, he didn't really want them to keep his things, not until he was sure they were ready for more public consumption, or to be codified into some final form. It made him nervous — music was so wonderfully mutable before it was caged in lines of ink, though he knew a good musician would set the melody free.

The minstrel watched her draw and make elegant calligraphy upon the paper. His own hand was careful and meticulous, but she made it look effortless. He supposed he would get better. Students at the Academy did a fair amount of writing, he imagined. Practice made — not perfect, but — improved.

That which was lost, she wrote in her ancient language. The old ways. The eyeless serpent. She didn't say one way or the other whether he was correct. He supposed he would have to get used to knowing more things that he did not know as he spent more time with her. As she spun the yarn that he was to spin again should anyone ask, he told himself the story in his mind. It was close enough to the truth in some ways, he supposed, and the rest was the white sort of lie that didn't hurt anyone.

At her uncertainty, though, he glanced askance.

"Why would I not wish it?"

[Lyra]

"You seemed hesitant." Lyra said simply. She still watched Finn, unsure if he was pleased or not with the creation. Though she had not expected anything in particular from this man, somehow his reaction had been a bit... lackluster.

"I have heard some do not care for the magical arts, even in Kalzasi." She spoke of course of the Reconcilers. They had been known to be quite forward in their beliefs, especially when it came to pressing them upon others. Tapping the cover of the book Lyra shrugged, "If it is not to your liking we can discuss something else, or if you are concerned as to the sort of attention it would bring, I will understand. As I said I may have enjoyed the craft a bit too much with this project."

Almost absently Lyra opened herself to the melodies, listening to Finn's as she waited for his next response.