Corvus (Zoya, PM for Invite)

[Vala]

9th of Summer, 511 AV A light pattering on the stone, like a quick roll against a drum; a waft of something sweet in the passing breeze; and a muffled tittering. Wait. A passing breeze? Vala looked over the counter of the Reception Desk. The heavy doors of the Enclave were still closed; they hadn’t been opened. Cool blue eyes scanned the clear stone expanse between the desk and the doors. There was obviously nothing there. Vala took several deep breaths, never letting her gaze waver, until she felt stable. Nothing revealed the switch other than a cloudy gaze that masked Vala’s sapphire orbs to a murky gray. Vala tried to see if there were any auras on the floor. She saw traces, shadows, of the people who had past, nothing surprising. Nothing living, but one of the lamps looked like it needed some more oil. One set of footprints looked fresher and smaller, but it was lost amongst the many other patterns. Vala blinked several times, trying to see things normally again. She felt a little dizzy but she hadn’t looked for long so the effects weren’t too severe. Once the dark ink on the ivory parchment stopped wobbling, Vala picked her quill back up. She had just dipped, but the pause had caused the black pearls to shift from the reservoir, so Vala deftly broke the surface of the liquid black with her quill’s nib. Then she tapped the shaft against the rim to remove the excess before starting the next line. The pattering came again, louder now, but it was at the far corner of the library; Vala did not hear anything; she was too focused in her work. The Enclave was barely staffed today. And there were very few patrons. Tomorrow was Market Day; people were busy preparing. Vala sat alone at the Reception Desk. Her quill dutifully dancing across the page, making perfect flourishes and serifs, as she copied yet another dull tome about Falconing. If she was a proper Avora, one with literary power, Vala would have omitted at least half of the words when copying. Honestly – some writers need to get to the point. It probably wasn’t all the writer’s fault though. Much of the information had gotten jumbled when it was first translated from common to Nari. Vala had yet to be fluent or trusted enough to start translating tomes herself, though the cocky girl believed herself to be more than capable the some of the old coots that did it with their hunched shoulders and skeletal, spindly fingers. The heavy mantle of pride did not fit well on the lowly chiet. An inconspicuous scowl began to creep onto her face as she grinded out the endless characters. Her fingers pinched firmly to hold the quill at a 30 degree angle. She had yet to notice that several of her back up vials of ink had mysteriously disappeared from the counter to her left.