Yui-chan

My brain would dry out, shrivel up, and fall off long before I reached 500! X_X I'm not sure Aegon would enjoy wiping up my drool for the rest of our lives.

#3 Within Welcome, Child of Morning, to the halls of my mind. Here is the essence that defines me and supports you. Here is my soul, laid bare for you. Look upon all that I am, all that you were created from, and find the answers you seek. The voice was a tickling whisper in the back of my mind, a presence that I could feel both within me and around me as I stood in the crystalline cavern. Within it was the wisdom of inconceivable age, the comfort of a loving mother, and a strange, mourning regret that I didn't understand. This was my world, the place that had created and sustained the nine races for all of time, a place of rippling mountains and raging waters, sun-bleached deserts and decaying swamps. This was Ii-tanai at the core of Her being, and yet it was nothing more than a cavern of amethyst deep within the ground. Dreams and longings wing through the stale air in visions of soft-glowing mist and ghostly reflection. Half-formed thoughts and musings reverberated through the massive chamber in soundless waves, whispering to me as they passed through my mind. Fear assaulted me while warmth comforted me. Anger ravaged me while tears fought free from the back of my eyes. I stood, surrounded by the ghosts of an immutable memory, and endured all that a sentient world had ever felt. It was beautiful. It was impossible. It was beyond anything that our wisest scholars could ever have hypothesized, and yet it was undeniably true. For all of time, we had been the denizens of a sentient world, the creations of a living being instead of the glad accidents of nature. Our very world was the Goddess that we had dreamed of and searched for, the Mother that every race had incorporated into their religions. I had stumbled upon the answers to our most ancient questions. That which is before you is often the hardest to see, Child. The world's amusement danced about me like fireflies of mirth, and I laughed in Her stead. I will never know if the elation I felt in that moment was mine or my creator's, but the purity of the feeling left its mark on my soul. I could have floated forever in the bliss of revelation, if not for the touch of a cold finger of grief against my mind. It lit up around me in a cold, purple nimbus, and as I looked around at the glittering expanse of the cavern, I could see that it permeated the space like stormclouds scattered within the mist. I could feel the storm gathering to break, and I feared to see what a world's grief could do. Still, I thought I understood it, with the wasting disease rampant on the surface far above me. I thought it clear that our Mother would be mourning for her lost children. In retrospect, I knew nothing. I stood before my maker with blinders of foolishness shielding my eyes from the wisdom and the truth around me, and thus I spent my time there searching for a cure instead of seeing the real problem. In the end, I had nothing but the great weight of a world's grief and a sense of immense failure. As I took my leave of that holy place, my world whispered to me in the weary voice of ages, Only one enemy in all of existence is invincible, Morning Star. When you know that enemy, you shall know the course you must take. Over the long, horrible months that followed, I would replay those words in my mind a thousand, thousand times, and yet it would be longer still before I could see the answers they gave me.

#2 In Search of a Satisfying Crunch "Goddammit! You snot-nosed little monkey, I'm going to beat your grimey little face to a pulp!" The roar broke through the normal chatter of the market like a hammer through glass, and a hundred cloth-wrapped and sun-leathered faces turned as one towards the towering hulk by the fountain. The spider's-web of scars on his face gleamed white against the ruddy tones of his rage. Someone was in trouble. That someone made a beeline for the nearest dark ally, bare feet slapping on the hard-packed dirt. Those that noticed him quickly un-noticed him, turning their heads away, eyes downcast; the last thing anyone wanted was to get involved in a conflict that involved making Fadgha the Beast angry. That was never good for one's health, and more than a few people clucked their tongues in sympathy for the unknown focus of the giant's ire. They shouldn't have bothered, because he was having the time of his life. "Come get me, you pox-riddled ogre!" Two things were clear in the young man's voice: arrogance and confidence. He didn't sound nearly as insane as his actions determined he was. He didn't even look insane, his pitch-black eyes gleaming mirthfully under matching, unkempt hair. No, instead he looked dangerously dashing and incredibly fast as he dodged and weaved through the milling throng, the roaring behemoth hot on his heels. He probably should have regretted his goading words a few minutes later, when he made a wrong turn and ended up with his back to the wall. He probably should have meekly begged forgiveness for his mischief and prayed to Alah to survive the inevitable thrashing. Instead, he folded his arms across his thin, tanned chest and leaned back against the rough clay tiles. His teeth gleamed white against the darkness of his skin as he watched Fadgha stalk forward. He wasn't reacting properly at all! "You little whelp. You good-fer-nothin' son of a mangy desert rat!" They were probably the biggest sentences Fadgha had uttered in ten seasons. "Tsk, tsk... you should know better than to talk about a man's mother like that, Beast. It might anger me to hear you say such things." The wiry young man laughed as his opponent's shadow darkened him. He was more concerned, however, with a spot of dirt on the tan fabric of his open vest. That was probably a mistake. "Yoooooooooouuuuuuu!" Lacking eloquence in his rage, Fadgha settled for a mighty roar and an elephantine charge, lowering his head and shoulders as he lumbered towards the trapped young man. All things considered, it wasn't the smartest move, as his much-faster antagonist had plenty of room to dodge. Fadgha could have found himself on the wrong end of a collision with the wall. But, since when did the lad do as expected? Still wearing that cocky grin, the young man pushed away from the wall and brushed a hand through his unruly hair. His eyes gleaming, his back straight, and his vest now blessedly free of dirt, he watched the giant rumble towards him and reflected on the comedy of the moment. All of this over a stolen kiss with Fadgha's little sister. With a twitch of one curved brow, he wondered what the man's reaction would be if he knew what they'd been doing all night last night. He pictured that scarred head exploding in a fit of apoplexy and chuckled. Then he balled his fist and swung. Fadgha's jaw held, surprisingly enough, but the forces of gravity didn't last long against his opponent's superior strength. It was quite comical to watch his still-flailing feet catch up to the rest of him as he lifted into the air, sailing up and back the way he'd come. It really would have been an impressive flight, and probably would have broken a number of records, if not for the inauspicious placement of an overhead covered walkway between the buildings. Instead, Fadgha slammed into the structure hard enough to crack it and hung there for one heartbeat before he slid off and fell face-first to the dirt alley below. The giant landed like a sack of clay bricks and stayed just as still. "Well, that was ... interesting, brother. May I ask if there was a point?" The wall beside the fallen man grew a face, offering a rueful smirk to the lad as he sauntered over. The face grew into a head, shoulders and eventually a body as another young man stepped into the shadowed alley, his features clearly establishing his relationship with the young powerhouse. The djinn grinned a wolfish grin and stared down at the prone giant, nudging him with a naked toe. "Sometimes, you just need to hit someone."

Hi, all. Thanks for the comments. On the subject of freewrites, I consider them in the same light as speed paintings or figure studies in art. The key point in a freewrite is to learn to harness that fluidity of form and motion in your thoughts, just as the point of a speedpainting is to learn to see the basics of form and composition, the rough interplay of color, without getting bogged down by the details. It's more an exercise in tuning the way you look at the whole. In writing terms, I think that it's along the lines of focusing more on how you think about what's going into your writing than how exactly you write, if that makes any sense. In order to do it right, you must do it in the same way that you speedpaint, quickly and off-the-cuff, investing it with the moment's feelings and movement and nothing else. Details are superfluous. Revision obscures the point. That's not to say, though, that you can't use a freewrite to fuel a later work. I'll probably do something along those lines, one of these days, because while I lost my flow midway through this thing, I think it might have potential. So, that's why I said what I did. I probably made it all up, though, anyway. Don't mind me! ~Yui

Wyvern, Yo B! Thanks for the mad props, ya know? It so happens that stanza three is my favorite, too. You always did have good taste. And thanks for the compliment on the picture, too. After the response it's gotten everywhere else, I kinda needed it. I've been told by a couple of people that it all needs scrapped and redone. >_ Anyway, thank you as always for the comments. Yours, ~Yui

{Edit: Bah. One little freewrite doesn't deserve its own thread! Thus, this is going to become my freewrite haven. Don't hope for too much, because these will be short, rough, on-the-spur-of-the-moment diddies, and it's highly likely that some will just leave you thinking... "Huh?" It's okay. They're just exercises. I've decided to aim for 25 different freewrites, going for a breadth of subjects and feelings. It's a lot like a creative stretching regimen, but I won't take credit for the idea. I got this from another forum where someone is doing 500 tiny little speedpaintings. 500 was a little too intimidating for me, though, so I wimped out to 25. Don't laugh too hard, okay? ~Yui} #1 For You I sang for you this morning, as I always do, filling the air with my voice as you rushed from bed to closet and from bathroom to kitchen, eyes intent on your watch. My song was soft and sweet and gentle, and though you did not acknowledge it as you hurried through the house, I know that you heard and that some part of you loved it... and me. I saw it in your heart in that moment before the front door clicked shut. I danced for you this afternoon, as I always do, leaping and spinning and flowing with an unrivaled grace as you rushed from office to shop and from meeting to meeting, thoughts intent on your work. My dance was fluid and sensual and smooth, poetry in motion, and though you did not acknowledge it as you hurried through your tasks, I know that you saw and that some part of you loved it... and me. I saw it in your eyes in that moment before your office blinds flipped down. I painted for you this evening, as I always do, a beautiful work in brilliant colors and sweeping lines for you to see as you rushed to the gym, ego intent on your new workout suit. My painting was vibrant and inspiring and unique, a masterpiece the likes of which will never exist again, and though you did not acknowledge it as you hurried to aerobics, I know that you saw and that some part of you loved it... and me. I saw it on your breath in that moment before your trainer walked up. I waited for you tonight, as I always do, a silent presence in the void of darkness for you to take comfort from as you sleep, subconscious intent on images of all you've known. You lay there so still and peaceful, the harsh lines of your face smoothed by the hand of the Sandman upon you, your breath whispering from between your peach-soft lips. It was my touch that you felt when your brow furrowed against the nightmares and my whip that lashed the shadows back from your bed, and though you did not acknowledge it as you opened yours eyes to the night, I know that you felt it and that some part of you loved it... and me. I saw it in the tears you shed in that moment of memory. I heard it in the your whispers in that moment of longing. I felt it in the beat of your heart in that moment of pain. And though you did not acknowledge me as you mourned in our bed, I know that you felt me and that every part of you loves me... and deserves all that I will always do for you. {I want to revise this. I want to revise this. However, it's a freewrite, so I'm not allowed. ... maybe I'll re-write my freewrite at some point. Is that allowed? }

Hm... I agree. Yui-chan carefully picks up the thread and moves it from the Banquet Room to the Cabaret Room. There. Now, have at it, Pennites! ~Yui

Yui regarded Salinye with a thoughtful look, indulging her curiosity with one short moment to consider what the elven sorceress might be searching for while she pondered the Ward Room. To lead Salinye into the place where the most sensitive texts were kept was a simple matter, but to help protect her while she was there... that could well be more difficult. Knowledge, like any other source of great power, has the potential to be very dangerous. "There is one other place where tomes are kept, Salinye-sama, but I must warn you about it before I can take you there, for some of what's kept within the Ward Room is extremely dangerous." The Huntress frowned, an expression that spoke volumes about how much whatever it contained worried her. "You mustn't touch anything until we've verified that it's safe. Wakatta?*" {* "Understood?"}

As Myth crept along the edge of the forest, she watched the winged woman where she sat curled into herself, ever wary. Kaleyra and the clearing around her, however, were silent and still, steeped in dappled sunlight that glinted in golden fire off the Avian's coiled braids and in silver stars off the clear waters of the tiny brook beside her. The wind was a whispered breath that barely stirred the leaves in the trees, and the birds that chirruped softly to the climbing sun were hidden within the shadows of the jungle. Only the water moved, and its flow was so lazy and smooth that Myth had to look twice to assure herself that the liquid ran along the bed of the little brook. To all appearances, she had stumbled upon a perfect moment of peace and tranquility, but Myth's instincts told her those appearances were deceiving. She couldn't have been more right. Kaleyra was in the middle of a battle as overwhelming as Celestia's zombies, rationality warring with emotion over the news Elena had given them. She'd told the others that she didn't believe it; she'd made a perfectly logical argument for why Elena might be misinformed. Her traitorous heart, though, still screamed fear and doubt in a voice too loud to be ignored. What if Elena were right? What if all of her life had been preparation for a quest that had always been doomed to fail? What if she could not find a way to save her race? No. By all the Mothers of her people, she wished the thought to be the truth. Elena is mistaken. There is no logic in creating a gift that destroys, in giving wisdom but taking away the capacity to use it in the same stroke. If all it brought was instant death, there would also be no logic in hiding it, in fighting mighty wars over its possession. She happily latched on to the thought, following it as she would a lifeline. The Vishari and the S'den would never have waged war over an empty promise, and most certainly each knew the true function of the Pool. In those ages, it was unprotected and unhidden, used and worshipped at in the god's first temple. No, the texts would have warned of death, if that were truly the inevitable result of its power. The voice of fear within her head died down to a whisper, and Kaleyra shoved it to the back of her mind with great relief. Walls of logic and control locked back into place. Elena had lied to protect the Pool from a group of strangers. It made perfect sense, given the adventurer's obsession with the location. She could not know that they were truly worthy, and so she had decided to mislead them in the hopes of scaring them off. It was an understandable ploy, really, and one that the scholar had no trouble forgiving her for. If I understand nothing else, it's Herculean devotion to a cause, she reflected with a tiny nod, moving for the first time in long minutes. She will see, though, that we are not dangers to her Pool or her island. When we have gained the wisdom, she will know that she has succeeded even though I've seen through her lie. The scholar took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched, her wings stretching wide to either side. She whispered a simple prayer into the thick silence of the clearing, "Thank you, ancient Mothers, for giving me the knowledge and the wisdom to find the truth beneath the lie. I won't fail you or our noble race." "Cute. So, what was the lie?" Cold steel against the side of her neck froze the Avian in her place even more effectively than the surprise of the voice cutting into the silence. Kaleyra blinked, panic lodging in her throat. She knew those tones, but the knowledge didn’t bring much comfort. "M-Myth?" "Mm." The assassin lifted the blade away, shaking her head at the bird-lady's lack of awareness. She could count about twelve ways in which she could've killed the feather brain before she'd even realized she was there. "Not very careful, are you?" Kal stared at the human as she stepped over to the brook, nonchalantly leaning down for a drink. The Avian shook her head, willing her heart to stop pounding, and added a twisted sense of humor to the list of Myth’s bad traits. As an afterthought, she also reached over and pulled her pack closer. "Wha... What are you doing here? Where's Y'Tren?" Wiping water from her mouth, Myth straightened and turned to Kaleyra. "He's dead." The words held all the emotional investment of a comment about the weather, but they earned a shocked gasp from the scholar. "Dead?" She jumped to her feet, defensively clutching her pack to her chest. "Y-you... You... You killed him?!" Myth rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten just how annoying the bird-lady could be.

Hello, I agree with Peredhil-san, and thus... it's moved! A painting does not have to be realistic or precisely detailed to be artistic, nor does a written piece need to be long to be complete. This is beautiful, and every bit worthy to be considered a work of art. Thank you for sharing, creature of the Mind Games. Yours, ~Yui

Thanks, Gwaihir and Salinye. There is a certain beauty in a knife fight, I think, with its elements of grace, violence and courage. This piece barely scratches the surface.

Yay! It's Gheer-falcon after all?! *Yui-chan jumps up and runs around, hugging Tralla, Alaeha, Gyrfalcon, Salinye, Ozy and everyone else within range* I'm so haaaappy!

{This poem was thrown together to caption a digital painting I've been working on of the same name. (The poem title contains the link to the image.) I had a hard time deciding whether a poem was rich enough to describe all that I have in my head as backstory to the picture, but ... well, this is what's come out thus far. I do think is a bit too thin for what I wanted, but I also feel like I did a decent job of enriching the writing of the poem perhaps further than it might have been naturally. That probably didn't make much sense, but I know what I meant, anyway. } Blade Dance ...Linked... 21 May, 2003 Sweet and silken beauty flows 'Midst midnight black and blood-red rose In whorls and arcs and whisp'ring spins, Unveiling hearts untouched by sins. Hardened steel through hot air sings, A breath from blood, its cold length rings. There snapped to stop by corded arm, Then off once more, quicksilver harm. Rhythm beats 'pon taught-stretched flesh As sweat-slick forms entwine, enmesh, A coquette flirt with razor edge, A consummation and a pledge. Each step, each turn, each swing a test, Young bodies strain, to limits pressed. Through beauty, courage, strength and grace They summon others in their place. Thus blackest Death and fiery Rage Find avatars on marble stage, And mortal souls succumb to trance So gods may join in their Blade Dance.

'JEER'? 'JEER'?! I'm going to have to forget I read that. It must not be so. After all this time, to have been mispronouncing your name... Mortified, Yui-chan finds a nice, quiet corner to hide in and curls into a little ball. Jeerfalcon?!

What wonderful news, Cyril! Congratulations, not only for your newfound freedom, but for the knowledge you have gained during your captivity. Perhaps you should be our official 'mountain Sage', with all that wisdom. Sincerely, ~Yui

Valdar, it's your brainchild, so you just let us know who you'd like to take charge. Zadown has volunteered, and goodness knows the slacker needs something to do... er ... did I just say that aloud? : Hiyaku! Yours, ~Yui

Waiii! Ah, Finnius-sama, I'm so glad that I finally got the time to read your tale of Terra Lost. It was such a wonderful story, and typically well-written! Thanks so much for sharing it, and for bringing back memories. I can't wait to see what's next from that brilliant blue head of yours. Sincerely, ~Yui

"I'm of the opinion that she also earned her little bum a spanking." The Huntress's voice takes on new depths of evil as she stalks towards the little demoness, eyes narrowed threateningly. Rune blinked in surprise ( ), not believing at first, but when she saw the woman reach up and unfasten her cloak, letting it drop as she stepped closer, the child worried that she was serious. Rune's eyes rounded like little black saucers, and she backed away a few steps. "I was only kidding, Miss Yui! Really!" Her back hit the wall, stopping her furtive retreat, and yet Yui-chan stalked on, expression thunderous. Rune's heartbeat skipped once, then raced to make up for lost time. "It was just a joke!" The ice-cold grin that slipped across her tormentor's face only made her panic more. "Maybe after this, you'll find it even more funny." Yui slipped a hand into the hip pocket on the long white tunic-vest she wore, toying with something under the fabric that looked long and flat. Rune meeped. A paddle?! Reflexively, her little hands slid behind her to guard her delicate derierre. "Wait! Wait, I--" "Hush, young lady." The stern tone was one rarely heard from the blonde archmagess, but it stilled all defiance. The little girl stared up with wide eyes as Yui-chan paused, towering over her. She shivered and flinched, squeezing her eyes shut as she faced the inevitable... ... ... and a second later, she was squirming in the Huntress' arms, giggling and squealing at her to stop as she tickled the living daylights out of the demon child. Zool and Peredhil, who'd been almost as surprised by the archmage's actions as Rune had, blinked once before bursting out laughing. They should have known. A few minutes later, when Yui-chan decided that she'd had enough fun ... er ... punished Rune enough, that is, she gave the girl a little hug and set her down so that she could finally see the older woman's bright smile. Rune grinned and huffed for breath, mumbling, "Yer a meanie, ya know?" "I know," Yui responded with a conspiratorial wink, "but you deserved it." Rune wrinkled her nose, her smile turning mischevious. "Yeah, I know."

Salinye, a 'more educated and professional answer' would just have gone way over my head! Thank you, that is just what I was asking about. I don't know much about the technicalities of poetry either, and that's why I wanted to know your thought process. I appreciate your patience with my insatiable curiosity. ~Yui

Heh. Yes, I think 'tricksy vixen' works pretty well. This was cute and enjoyable, Salinye. Good job, and thanks for sharing it! I do have a question for you, though; not a critique, just a curiosity from someone who's really quite poetry-dislexic. What motivated the line breaks that you used in this piece? When I write poetry, it really tends to be in black and white. The rhyming scheme and rhythm determine where lines stop and start. I enjoy this kind of poem, in which it's less structured, but I just don't understand it. Maybe there's a rhythmic pattern that I am missing? Or did you just break it with thoughts? Or is it to lead the reader into pausing on certain words or phrases? Sorry for all the questions. I'm just curious. Yours, ~Yui

By the time friends and acquaintances had hugged, greeted, clasped and congratulated the humble little woman in the night-dark cloak, Yui-chan sported a sincere - if tremulous - smile and flushed cheeks. She was glad that she'd made a beeline for the other promotees to give them their much-deserved congratulations first, before the rest of the member populous had reached them, because now she could barely see even Tamaranis' pale face through the crowd around them all. Yui hoped that dear Ayshela wasn't going to try kneeling again, images of her falling under what felt like a stampede of Pennites flashing through the Huntress' overactive imagination. With a grimace, she shook her head and banished such an unworthy thought, contributing the silliness to nerves and lingering shock. Such an honor, and at such an early hour of the morning! Her sleepy brain was still processing all the ramifications while she nodded and spoke and shook many an ink-stained hand. Each person received a heartfelt, if softspoken, 'thank you' for their kind words - (It wasn't until later that she worried that a few of them might have received an 'arigatoo' instead - she did that sometimes.) - and more than a few heard her promise to try to be worthy of the title. Only the handful of individuals who knew her best noticed the surreptitious glances she occasionally slanted to where Zool watched from the quiet of the shadows, and of those, only Peredhil the Perceptive recognized the slight hint of longing in her eyes. The ancient half-elf smiled with the knowledge that Temae Yui, granted a position of honor, power, and responsibility in the Keep of the Mighty Pen, would endure the light gladly when necessary but always return to the Shadows in which she belonged. ... for her part, Yui was just learning her first, important lesson as an Elder while she continued to chat with her fellow Pennites there on the steps of the Cabaret-cathedral. With the rising sun beaming heartily through the windows behind them, she was quickly becoming aware that black is the wrong color to wear in the light.

Yui-chan wandered the hall, studiously ignoring the metallic tang in her mouth and the gentle ringing in her ears. Despite the slight discomfort his magical display caused, she couldn't be anything less than impressed with Elladan this afternoon after seeing the beings he'd called and commanded. True, it probably pushed the boundaries of the Polite to have glanced through the shadows while the younger elfling was working, but the lady thought that perhaps Prudence could forgive the lapse in Manners. After all, she'd seen the barriers around the room, but it was always hard for her to tell the caster of a ward. It wouldn't do to leave a friend in trouble, so it was only practical to peek. Right? "... a logical, if worthless, excuse..." she muttered to herself, knowing that it had been Rude. In the end, try as she might, she could not quite achieve Peredhil's perfection of Politeness. The Huntress greeted the revelation with a slight shrug and sigh. The challenge was in trying without expecting to succeed. Ah, but those were thoughts for a more somber time, and now she approached the Cabaret room with a light step and the swish of silver-white satin. One could never overdress for the Founder's birthday, after all. Besides, though she'd never admit it, she had decided that it felt rather nice to wear finer clothes once in a while. "Ah, Aegon would have a field day with that thought if he knew about it... " "Which thought would that be, hmmm?" Yui-chan jumped, spinning to come face-to-face with a smiling apparition. Her shock turned into chagrin. "It was a private thought, you sneaking spook," she laughed, fixing her love's illusion with an attempt at a stern scowl. The effect was ruined by her smile. "Eh, I'll get it out of you later, then." His cocky grin only made her roll her eyes. "I take it you couldn't get away?" Yui changed the subject, turning back towards the party. Aegon's image shook its head. "No, I couldn't. But I wanted to go with you to at least give Ozymandius a 'happy birthday'." "Well, I'm glad that you could come in spirit, if not in person, love..." The young woman stepped through the doors to the Cabaret room, the wafting spell slipping in after her, and made her way over to where Peredhil and his sons stood chatting. It looked like it would be a pleasant afternoon... Thus, a ghost and a shadow gladly joined the celebration.

Valdar, What a great idea. This sounds like a wonderful opportunity to get to know someone new. I'd love to participate, and I think your proposal as laid out suits me just fine. Circular is a bit more interesting than linear when it comes to matching writers to subjects. I doubt that we'll have any troubles with people being left out, as there are people like myself and Finnius who are willing to write about anyone. I do think, however, that we really need to make sure that this sticks to one character/persona and doesn't get too personal. Stories about fictional characters are a bit less likely to risk an inadvertant insult than ones about the real person, I'd think. Finally, the list of Writers-Subjects may as well be published, as hopefully there will be a lot of intercommunication, so it won't be a surprise to anyone in any case. I don't really think it's that big of a deal one way or the other, though, so do as you see fit. Thanks for sharing this idea with us. I'm looking forward to seeing what we create out of it! Thanks, ~Yui

Yui-chan laughs with the fond remembrance of a spectator, recalling the madness that was that birthday party. In the end, all that was left of the grand Conservatory was a pile of smoldering rubble and a huge debt that Wyvern owed to Gyrfalcon for its reconstruction. I have always wondered, blue one, just what did happen between you and Scarlett after the marriage. Perhaps you'll answer the question for us, one day. She grins and wanders away, awash in memories.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. For long hours, it had dominated the shadowed room, untroubled by the occasional scrape of page on page or the skritch-scratch of the inked quill as it wove its way through the words. With it had come a warm, all-consuming serenity that filled the air just as thickly as did the smells of the place, the salty tang of soft, tanned leather and the dusty earth-scents of parchment. Those two were the undisputed monarchs of the library at night, and she had come as she often did to worship them and bask in the joy of their domain. Temae Yui laughed softly to herself, a whisper of sound that faded away into the quiet as if it'd never been, and shook her head at her own sense of the dramatic. Waxing poetic on the empty library is a sure sign that I've been breathing near my open inkwell for too long, she mused, wiping some smudges of ink from her fingers. It's time to be done, I suppose. As always, it was with a sense of wistful regret that she capped the crystaline inkwell and took a cleaning rag to her favorite quill. These quiet nights of uninterrupted commune with her words and her thoughts were a rarity in recent life, and she had missed the personal time immensely. Alone, surrounded by the books she so loved and the safe walls of the Pen Keep, she could almost forget of the thousands of subjects depending on her back home and the dozens of missives and declarations and proposals cluttering up the desk in her study. Almost. Yui-chan slanted a green-eyed gaze towards the far wall and wished she had the power of ancient Chronos. Though the spreading pool of light had yet to reach her quiet corner, it had become impossible to ignore the beaming sun as it shone in rainbow hues through the huge stained-glass window, and that meant that she'd soon have to leave this sanctuary. Still, a morning hour reading in the luxurious warmth of the alcove beneath the window was never to be missed, and whether she had the time or not, she intended to enjoy one to finish off a restful evening. The decision felt decidedly wicked and selfish, and she loved it. The young woman's smile defied the dark smudges under her eyes as she picked up a particularly fascinating tome of fanciful stories and settled into a well-cushioned chair to read about a world with no magic and horseless metal carriages. It seemed as if it would be a lovely morning...