90th of Summer, 514 AV
Everyone has a hobby, even in Riverfall. Birds like to sing, clocks like to tick. Rain falls each time it can and cats meow for fun. Calters' hobby was slightly less common, but just as fun to him. Calters liked waking up in a grumpy mood. It was satisfying to him to spread this negativity around and it made him feel not so alone.
Today with the rain falling, clocks ticking, birds singing, and cats meowing, it was only appropriate that Calters made himself busy as well. From the moment he woke up that dreary morning, he knew that today was a bad day. Not just any bad day though; this was an Akvatari's nightmare. Melancholy clouded his view and tinted the whole world grey as he stumbled to the floor with a heavy flop. He reached out his hands for the sketchbook and opened it, finding his previous pictures staring back at him.
As the artist looked back on his work, the art sneered at him. Sloppy skulls gaped their open mouths at him while red birds dripped poorly-drawn blood into the mugs of bar patrons. Cal watched these drawings for a moment, willing them to disappear entirely. When they didn't, he turned the page with a 'letdown' kind of sigh.
Coming upon a blank page, the Akvatari found himself picking up the partially smashed charcoal underneath his bed and placing it delicately on the page. He wasn't sure what he had planned to draw, only that he needed some form of stress relief.
At the same time, thunder bumped into his apartment, shaking the walls, the floor, and Calters' hand. It produced a large smear across the page, successfully wasting an entire page. In his sudden rage, Calters dropped the charcoal and cried out.
"Petch!"
Disappointed, Cal closed the journal with the charcoal in its pages and slid the entire thing under his bed where he was sure to lose it for awhile. His next choice was to play his beloved ocarina. He pulled the thing from his flat, bare chest up to his mouth, but before he could even try to play a note a loud crash of thunder boomed again. Successfully annoyed, Calters slowly took off the ocarina and placed it on top of his bed.
With patience and self-control that would impress an Akalak, Calters found his way to the center of the small room. He stood there for a moment, simmering in a pot of ire and disgust at the world in general. He cautiously hovered mere inches off the ground whereupon he promptly slammed his own body onto the hard floor in a childish fit.
His closed fists beat on the floor, nearby furniture, or even his own head with pure abandon as he growled to himself. "I'm going to be stuck in this house all day! I won't be able to play or sing or think of any songs or draw anything! I'll just sit here and wallow in this pit of sorrow and wait for myself to drown. To die!"
Calters' self-loathing session was interrupted by the sound of an equally angry someone banging on his door.
"Hey kid! Be quiet in there; my wife's tryin' to sleep you know!"
Cal didn't move- didn't make a sound. Eventually, the man at the door strode away, leaving the frustrated artist lying in the middle of his disorganized room, listening to the sounds of the storm gallivant through town. A particularly bright lightning blot struck nearby, leaving Cal momentarily blind and more aggravated than ever.
Are you serious?
