Are We Illegible.

[Albireo]

Summer 70, 512 AV (between 6 and 11pm) Bharani Library “So this also describes glassbeaks and Zith, yes?” The horned head bobbed towards the slim Shinya, young and brimming with energy, and pale lips murmured a few affirmative words. Customers abhorred silence, she had learned, so they told her what they wanted out of their own accord. Her role was that of a modest observer and listener. The boy smiled and his bow was full of gratitude. As he exited the library dark eyes lingered. All of his gestures were so full of emotion and energy. Reminiscent of Her bright blinding light. Fingers clutching at white robes, Albireo turned to see a human clad in the same garment emerging from a narrow corridor. Carrying an open box with scrolls peeking out from under the lid, he approached the clerk’s desk just like her. They met and he looked up. The Ethaefal bowed to welcome him back to Bharani. “New delivery from the Seekers. You’ll do some of the transcribing this time.” A strange accent riddled his words, only known to other Fallen. However, his horns only showed when hers disappeared. Albireo’s heart missed a beat. But to transcribe… “It’s about time you learn the trade”, he said. The smile flashed for the blink of an eye, short enough for Albireo to deny it as an illusion. A quiet man he was, the head scribe at Bharani Library, smelling of ink and dust and old books. “Thank you”, she whispered. Sparkling eyes drank in the scrolls, knowledge scribbled on them in messy handwriting and often in a hurry. Stains and smudges in various shades made the script hard to read in places, but never illegible. Ideschil’s ink-stained fingers browsed through the pile and selected a geographic treatise. Djed Geysers… the title reverberated in Albireo’s head. “First lesson in calligraphy: You will transcribe this on clean parchment.” A nod indicated understanding. Sixty days ago she had submitted a contribution and asked for work, now was the time to show why she had been hired. Hands closed into fists, then her eyes widened. Why? Where had she picked up such dedication? My Lord, forgive me, I am straying from your path… or am I? The age-old question rotating inside. “Do you understand?” His voice sharp. “Yes. I will do my best.” At once the soft moon face hardened.

[Albireo]

“So, this is the font you’ll be using for titles and subtitles and this is for capital letters.” Ideschil’s fingers brushed over a piece of parchment with letters forming beautiful curves and then tapped on another piece where decoration was so elaborate that letters became all but illegible. The Ethaefal nodded, green horns reflecting moonlight through large windows at the sides. Her eyes drank in the beautiful script as if it was most exquisite red wine. “Practice each letter at least once. As a novice you will make mistakes, but skill only comes through practice.” Another nod. “Write clean and legible. The charcoal markings indicate where you leave space for illustrations. Any questions?” Waking from her lethargy, Albireo hastily thought up a problem. “You want to see the work in progress, give advice?” For a moment he contemplated, rough features frozen in front of her. “Yes, yes, a good idea. Show me your work every two pages. Know where to find me?” A final nod. His finger – pointing towards shelves housing magic treatises, to a door hidden behind a massive column – sank to his side, disappointed. “Mistakes are only human”, he repeated once more, leaving her alone with dirty parchment and two customers. Sarcasm lingered in Albireo’s head, but according to the rules, she tended to the customers first. Afterwards she set to preparing for scribe work: Random forms and other paper disappeared from the desk, instead it was filled with a stack of blank parchment, a fresh ink vial and two quills with varying thickness. They would work together to create lively and elegant script like she had seen Ideschil do so many times. Sitting down, she brushed black strands of hair back behind ears and horns, took a deep breath and fought the nervous feeling in the tips of her fingers and her knees. Following Ideschil’s instructions, she practiced the title on a separate sheet of parchment before beginning the actual work. The quill, filled with ink, created sharp black lines and forms resembling the letters on the sample sheet. However, it stopped all too soon. Frozen, Albireo stared at her work. Not satisfied, not in the least. Why did it look different? The proportions were off and the lines weren’t thick enough. Not self-confident, but shaky. Sighing, she drowned the tip of the quill in ink and gave it another try. Sometime between the fourth try and desperation she just continued instead of starting anew. The letters accumulated, tracing beautiful patterns over the parchment. The candles said that a bell or so had passed when she made the last line fade in a pretty swirl… Her breath should help the ink dry, then she held the sheet an arm’s length away and analyzed it out of narrow eyes. A treatise on the GEOGRAPHY and MAGICAL PROPERTIES of the DJED GEYSERS by Lhavit Lines still shaky, some too thick, some too thin, and the proportions still weren’t right. Compared with the sample, they lacked harmony. Albireo blinked. There! The original letters had structure to them: how the vertical line in a G marked the exact center, how all lines on the M had divided space between them, how the vertical line of an L was just half as long as the horizontal line. Before her eyes a complex system unfolded. Pale fingers shook with excitement as she picked up the quill and copied letter by letter onto a fresh piece of parchment. This time she used up all the space, divided the letters and lines according to a special system in her head in order to create perfect harmony between them. This was to be the clean copy, her first work as a scribe. And somewhere between parchment, quill and ink the idea hit her. They said it was darkest before the dawn, did they? A glance affirmed it. Fleeting clouds took His light away for a moment. The Celestial language – In a library oozing knowledge from the deepest cellars up to the highest peaks, she would surely find a few words on the Celestial language?

[Albireo]

Summer 70, 512 AV (between 11 and 12pm) Bharani Library Pieces of parchment with large letters and clean script were dried and tucked away safely inside the desk. As she looked out of the skyglass-framed window, her skin toyed with and reflected Leth’s beautiful light from its highest position on the midnight sky. Turning around, Albireo faced the person entering through a side door and bowed. Her coworker, a tiny woman with braided hair the color of wheat, returned the greeting and took over the clerk’s desk. Nevertheless Albireo approached her. “I’ll be spending my midnight rest here, doing research.” She just meant to inform Dalaya, but the reply was delivered with cold steel eyes and twisted lips. “You don’t have to ask for permission, you know. Just do what you want.” Poison. Blinking, the Ethaefal retreated. The steps carrying her deeper into the library were slow, still it was an escape. After a moment of calming down she started reading the labels carved into wood. Geography, Monsters, Races… Diving into the alleyway between shelves she scanned words and more words on the spines. Browsing through every book with Ethaefal or Fallen in the title she put the short treatises and articles back and collected the extensive works in her left arm before continuing. Two books remained. Carrying them over to the shelves with Religion carved into the sides, she repeated the procedure. Out of the works on Syna, Leth and their relationship three offered chapters on the Ethaefal. Five books of medium thickness weighed her down more than expected. Panting, she scuffled back to the clerk’s desk and asked for some parchment, ink and a quill to take notes. Dalaya regarded Leth’s child as if she suspected her of stealing the books. “What for?” she asked. Such a high voice, like inquisition. “To take notes”, Albireo explained. All the air in the entrance area wasn’t enough to catch her breath. Dust prickled in her nose. “You better do something useful”, the small woman muttered under her breath while shuffling through her papers in search of unused parchment. Albireo’s grateful bow turned out quite shaky, but she carried her loot over to the next table and gave a deep sigh. “Been here for three seasons, but not the fastest learner, that one is”, Ideschil had told her in a human moment. He rarely assigned Dalaya calligraphy works, yet told her to practice more. Shaking her head, Albireo sat and opened the next book, Ascend and Fall of the Mysterious Race. Worldly matters, worldly matters, it repeated in her head, a magic spell. When all I want is speak to you, my Lord…

[Albireo]

It’s not right. The book had a few paragraphs on the Celestial language, saying it was the Ethaefal’s original mother tongue, but impossible to pronounce in the mortal world. Albireo remained frozen with eyes tightly shut for a moment. That she already knew better than any words could tell. It’s not right to be driven out of paradise. She abandoned it for the next in the pile, Fallen from the Ukalas, and opened that to a detailed account of Leth’s and Syna’s role in the Valterrian. Sharp and precise like science, not from a storyteller. Face blank, she browsed through the chapters until a shrill voice disturbed her. “Have you forgotten your manners?” Her head shot up. The façade of still moonlight was penetrated by Dalaya’s accusatory stare. Manners? She was quiet, neither drank, ate nor splatter the pages with ink. “You forgot to greet the customers”, the coworker claimed. The Ethaefal rustled her white robes, the fabric brushing against her skin and cooling her: Although a clerk, she was on break at the moment. Another Shinya passed by, accompanied by a Lhavitian woman. Albireo tilted her head in their direction, black hair falling over her shoulder like silk. Dalaya wandered off, leaving an annoyed noise that only one person could hear. After blinking several times, Albireo put her nose back between the pages and… gasped. They were able to age things by one day. Make them older. Only once every day for same thing, infinitely if they targeted several things. She read it twice. Special abilities. She read it one last time. Laszlo’s face drifted through her mind, then Ideschil’s. Nobody had ever said… not on her journeys, not in Lhavit… how? Shaking her head, she banned the thought. Trembling hands grabbed quill and ink, dipped one in the other, drew a line on the parchment. Setting them aside, she placed the paper between both hands and stared at it. Her cobalt gaze didn’t burn a hole into it, but the ink stopped shimmering. A touch affirmed it had dried faster than possible. Tilting her head, with the forehead touching aged material, the Ethaefal closed her eyes. Thank you for this sign, my Lord. Later she skimmed the books searching for the Celestial language, but they didn’t reveal anything. Common knowledge. Eventually she put them back, found a scroll with Lhavitian legends and dozed off at a reading table behind the Religion shelf.

[Albireo]

Summer 71, 512 AV (between 1am and 6am) Bharani Library “By Zintila, I don’t believe it! You’re late, wake up!” Something tugged at her shoulder, harder and harder, until Albireo jerked up abruptly. A shock of wheat-colored hair jumped back from her vision. Eyes clouded by sleep blinked into moonlight from a nearby window and recognized Dalaya. Oh. Shift change. With wrinkled forehead the girl stared into her face. A tanned hand was half extended. “What?” Albireo asked. A hint of pink colored the other’s cheeks. “Ah… uh… what is it? Get to work, I want to leave!” she snapped and spun around. White robes flowing behind, she fled towards the front desk. Albireo trailed behind. The fantasies of a storyteller were rotating inside her, round and round, creating impossible possibilities and dream-like realities. They always did, flowing through her veins next to blood crying to the heavens, but usually she pushed them aside. Had Dalaya tried to…? What a crazy idea. A short bow stood between them when Dalaya departed through the front gates. As if to replace her, a group of visitors trickled in, giving her a chance to plunge into work and forget the foreign hand that had reached for her face. Chimes later she manned the desk and retrieved the copy she had worked on earlier. Examining the dried ink revived that paragraph in Fallen from the Ukalas. Age a thing by touch. The thought was haunting her mind, making her restless while she set to work. Hands didn’t shake anymore and words were flowing in a smoother and more consistent pattern. Copying the main body required all attention. Spelling and syntax were to mirror the original down to the tiniest comma and dot. Yet between reading the next line and writing it down, some of the content trickled into her thoughts and remained. The treatise claimed the Djed Geysers were located east of Lhavit, near a large lake, and described the journey to them and reason for it. Seekers noted down each and every detail, gathering knowledge for the sake of knowledge. And the scribe appreciated and honored the vast amount of material by transforming it into beautiful pieces, the pride of every library. The description of its geographic location and properties created a clear image in Albireo’s mind. As if she had made the journey and seen it with her own eyes. And with a faint smile on pale lips she missed a line on the second page. Crumpling it up and tossing it aside, she set to write the two paragraphs again on fresh parchment, thoughts following the content again. Being exposed to massive amounts of Djed during the Valterrian, the earth had assumed unnatural qualities: Geysers of wild Djed had formed, more powerful and dangerous than any mage had the capacities to wield. The author strongly advised anyone to not use magic around the location if they wanted to stay sane and healthy. The Ethaefal paused often and reread sentences or paragraphs. Not knowing what Djed was, how it worked and how people made magic out of it frightened her. Danger leaked through the words and lurked between the lines, she could feel it, but an assignment was an assignment. Ideschil wouldn’t accept fear as an excuse. Fear of a written word, nonetheless! Still, the faint trembling had returned, riddling her words with an edgy quality. Finishing the second page without any major mistakes, Albireo gathered her copy and the original and left the desk. Customers were few and occupied with personal deeds, so she slipped behind the column and through the door unnoticed. Ideschil was reading behind his desk, but his bright eyes lit up at the sight of parchment in her hands. “Show me”, he commanded in the usual clipped manner. Albireo fidgeted in front of the desk like a nervous student, hands intertwining, knotting together, detaching. After what seemed like another eternity, the head scribe nodded. “Your lines are shaky here and there. Your headline has decent harmony though. Balance between letters is important.” A moment of silence. “Keep your lines in the main body straight.” Albireo tilted her head, cheeks heating up. Of course. From Ideschil’s perspective, the lines did form odd hills and valleys on the parchment. Retrieving her work, she gave a grateful bow and returned to her own desk.

[Albireo]

Attention wrapped around the work, she immediately set to designing page three. “By Zintila, what are you doing?” A horned head jerked up. Before her stood the braid of wheat-colored hair, dangling over Dalaya’s left shoulder as she folded her arms, expression disapproving. Albireo’s quill hovered in the air, careful not to stain the precious parchment with ink. Surely the opponent could answer the question herself… However, her hands unfolded and gestured around the empty area. From the far corner a girl with a basket was peeking around a shelf, curiously drinking in what happened between the clerks. “You’re ignoring customers again! This is far from appropriate!” A moment of silence, the words sank in. Albireo had indeed blended out everything but her work, still… “There are no customers”, she pointed out. The small woman appeared to swell with anger. “How do you dare, you, you…” Words were escaping her, a likely punishment, toppling over one another and to the floor. Albireo was watching as if she had nothing to do with it. Cobalt eyes of a storyteller. “Is there a problem?” a voice called from behind. Dalaya spun around and sank into a bow. Ideschil strode over to them, lying a hand on the shoulder not covered by strands of hair. And the daughter of Leth, having risen from the desk, saw shock on Dalaya’s face. “No-nothing, really. I was just asking how it’s been going and… you know…” “I don’t”, he said, gaze burning a hole into her. “And I will not tolerate any rude words or gestures between these walls.” She sank into another bow, apologetic this time. Albireo didn’t smile or laugh. What for? “Understood?” Sharp tone like steel, followed by a whisper. “Yes, head scribe.” After giving a nod to the unfinished calligraphy on page three, he left. Slipping behind the column as silently as possible for a human, he delved into his own work again, or so Albireo imagined. Lost in fantasies, she jerked when Dalaya snorted. A scowl hit her hard out of watery gaze. “You want it all, don’t you? No wonder, just look in the mirror. I wish…” Covering her mouth with a hand, she looked almost surprised. “Nevermind.” And she left as well, heading towards the staff room to exchange her clothes with plain white robes. Albireo, however, followed her with dark eyes and brow furrowed lightly. So the riddle had solved itself. Jealousy. To be jealous of an Ethaefal slipping from heaven, awakening in cold water, running from danger for seasons on end and trying to find peace between scrolls and stars? Hah. That was so ridiculous that it had potential for a good tale. Sitting down at the desk again, Albireo went back to page three. She dipped her quill into the ink, memorized the next sentence and tried to form a clean copy with straight lines. Only after having worked well into her break, she considered the time and was chased to change and get some rest by Ideschil. A faint smile crossed otherworldly features as she wandered towards the staff room. Soon he’d be Ethaefal, golden and glorious, and she’d be a Vantha storyteller again. The words formed in her head, words a different quill would note down on a different kind of parchment. And the little black journal with its silver moon glimmering on the cover was waiting at home. Change, experience and epiphanies, it swallowed them all like the most faithful companion it was. THIS STORY ENDS HERE.

[Whimsy]

.
.

Experience Award

.

Albireo

Exp
+4 Calligraphy
+2 Philosophy

Lores
Fonts Used in Calligraphy
The Systems in Calligraphy
Ethaefal Abilities: Aging by Touch
The Djed Geysers of Lhavit
Dayala's Jealousy

Comments
This was wonderfully written, and beautifully poignant. I really enjoyed reading through it. Albireo's hope is well portrayed. PM me if you have any questions or concerns.