Timestamp: 2nd of Spring, 508AV
It was a rare day, indeed, when Kirsi found herself entirely left to her own devices. Actually, it wasn't so rare anymore, she corrected silently. Almost overnight, it seemed, her friends had paired off and begun setting up households and starting families. Kirsi wished them well, but lately found herself missing the carefree hours they used to spend together. Many times they had sat in the Crystal Hall, just as she did now, laughing and dreaming and chattering for bells on end.
The Hall seemed quiet now.
The stone structure was far from empty; such a convenient gathering spot almost always entertained at least a few groups of people. Looking around, Kirsi could see two youths poring over a book a short distance away. A small group of grandmothers sitting around a table trading tales. Grandchildren? Husbands? Recipes? Who knew - but they were smiling and Kirsi watched them for a chime before looking back to her lap, and the wooden flute that sat there.
If there was a bonus in her friends' moving on, it was that Kirsi now had much more time to devote to her carving. The flute had been plain, purchased on a whim, for a few silver mizas. She had only the barest working knowledge of how to play it: you blew into one end, and sound came out the other. But that was unimportant for now. Kirsi was attempting to carve the outside of the flute into something with a more functional beauty.
The lines had been drawn in, and today she had brought the flute and her carving tools to the Crystal Hall for the dual purposes of carving and socializing. Only there was no one she cared to socialize with at the moment. Head bowed, focused on her flute, Kirsi scored the wood lightly. The design was a series of lines and small circles, an intricately swirling pattern made of very simple shapes. After nearly a bell of painstakingly light scratching at the body of the flute, Kirsi set down her tools and lifted the instrument to her lips.
Quietly, in deference to the ears and sensibilities of the other people in the Hall, Kirsi blew a tentative note. The carving might make the instrument look better, but it still sounded like a wounded bird.
The Hall seemed quiet now.
The stone structure was far from empty; such a convenient gathering spot almost always entertained at least a few groups of people. Looking around, Kirsi could see two youths poring over a book a short distance away. A small group of grandmothers sitting around a table trading tales. Grandchildren? Husbands? Recipes? Who knew - but they were smiling and Kirsi watched them for a chime before looking back to her lap, and the wooden flute that sat there.
If there was a bonus in her friends' moving on, it was that Kirsi now had much more time to devote to her carving. The flute had been plain, purchased on a whim, for a few silver mizas. She had only the barest working knowledge of how to play it: you blew into one end, and sound came out the other. But that was unimportant for now. Kirsi was attempting to carve the outside of the flute into something with a more functional beauty.
The lines had been drawn in, and today she had brought the flute and her carving tools to the Crystal Hall for the dual purposes of carving and socializing. Only there was no one she cared to socialize with at the moment. Head bowed, focused on her flute, Kirsi scored the wood lightly. The design was a series of lines and small circles, an intricately swirling pattern made of very simple shapes. After nearly a bell of painstakingly light scratching at the body of the flute, Kirsi set down her tools and lifted the instrument to her lips.
Quietly, in deference to the ears and sensibilities of the other people in the Hall, Kirsi blew a tentative note. The carving might make the instrument look better, but it still sounded like a wounded bird.
