Open Words of love

[Bethsyliss]

Day 83 of Winter, 512 AV. Since Bethsyliss had put up the job advertisement on the wooden signpost outside of her house in the Pillars of Dust four days ago, she had been restless. She had turned her mind inside out trying to find romantic phrases to insert in the poem she was to write for Ronin, but she wasn't even sure exactly what she wanted to say. Never had she experienced such feelings for another being before. The new emotions which welled up inside of her were far too complex for her to fully process intellectually, let alone put into words. Was it love? Was it lust? Endearment, perhaps, or even infatuation? Maybe an unnameable cocktail of confused and confusing sentiments? Whatever the appellation it fell under, Syliss was certain of one thing: her affection for the Kelvic who lived with her and with whom she had trekked across the Burning Lands compelled her to confess it to him so that the single kiss they had shared upon their arrival in Ahnatep could follow up into subsequent, similar interactions. Something inside of her commanded that she get to the bottom of her yet unsatisfied desires. Today, she was supposed to welcome poets into her home while Ronin was away to discuss the poem she was going to write as well as receive their help in actually composing it. It wasn't exactly a visit, but rather a paid performance. On the note she had stuck to the signpost downstairs from her second-floor apartment, she had indicated that a payment sum ranging between two and ten golden mizas according to proficiency in various skills related to poetry would be awarded to those who passed by today to provide their services. I'm offering good money, she thought. At leassst a few people are bound to drop by in hopes of making ssseveral easy mizas. Syliss was willing to receive the help of both professional and novice poets, since she possessed virtually no knowledge or experience concerning the matter. She had decided also to welcome those who had not signaled their presence in advance by leaving a note under her door, in order to maximize the help she could get. She knew she needed it. Syliss had judiciously obtained the necessary materials to proceed with the composition of the poem beforehand. She had purchased five one-ounce bottles of black ink, ten quills, and eighty pieces of wadj from Naskre at the Scholar's Sanctum -- luckily, one day before her incident at the library with Singh re Naphu. That was more than enough ink and paper to pen down a single poem, but she had figured that wadj could come in handy at any time and that keeping reserves of ink and quills would not hurt. Besides, she wanted the love poem not only to be beautiful, but also to look beautiful, and she was willing to use up as many sheets of wadj as it would take to erase the traces of any corrections or spelling mistakes as well as get the calligraphy perfectly right so that it would be aesthetically pleasing to the eye. At the last moment, so as not to raise Ronin's suspicions before he left the house to do whatever it was that he did during the day, Syliss had dragged the bare wooden bed in front of the bench to use as a table, and had set the quills, ink bottles and sheets of paper on it in an orderly fashion. Her guests, or rather, poetic hired hands, were expected at the strike of the fourteenth bell today. She waited nervously until that time. Shortly after the bell struck, there was a knock on the door. It was her first poet. She walked up to the unlocked door, put her hand on the knob, and tightened her grip on it. Here we go, she told herself, then took a deep breath, and opened the door to welcome the composer.