Destruction's Diary:My Broken and Shattered Wings

[Liriah]

26th/Summer/136 A.V. Today was relatively pleasent. In the morning, my brother came by. After that, an old bard visited me during the afternoon, when the sky started going berserk with djed again. I am not sure why he was outside, but I am glad that I sheltered him from the storm. Soon after he arrived, a spidery man came along. I think he was there to kidnap me. The visit was only fleeting. Brother came by when I was preparing breakfast for myself and the beasts around my abode. Although his appearance took me by surprise, I calmly offered him breakfast. He declined, though, explaining that he came by to give me a gift, pressing a dark, wooden box with a golden filigree latch holding it closed into my hands, the knife I was using forgotten and dangerously balancing on and off the counter. It was long and polished, the grain suggesting that it was carved from one piece of wood, which he boasted was from a fallen trunk in the Wanamu Grove. It was rather impressive that he actually went all the way there, the chances of dying so high and all. He wouldn't let me open it until nightfall, instructing me to open it when I am in my full glory though, so I placed it underneath my bed. The air was wild outside, 3 bells after my brother left, and the grove I erected my cottage of stone in was swaying, the trees' disapproval clear to me. It was a sure sign that another djed storm was coming, this one larger than any other I have seen before. The rain was unnatural, a poisonous and sickening crimson. It was tainting the land with wild magic and djed, but I knew that it couldn't affect me unless I made contact with it. It was almost lunch and the storm was getting worse, black lightning was streaking across the sky and rainbows were randomly appearing. It was when I reached my kitchen, looking for a fruit to snack on, that I heard a wizened old voice grumbling his dismay at all the bad weather. Rushing to the door, I welcomed him in, a tea towel on the ready in case his hair was wet. He was fine, though, no wet hair or disturbing mutations, just an old man carrying a flute. Instantly, I recognized him as a bard, one that of Rhaus, no doubt. He had a...........semi-quaver, see, I still remember what the notes are called and look like, under his left eye. I found it very fanciful and complimented him on it. He didn't seem to care much about looking fanciful, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. I had completely forgotten that he was here for shelter, apologizing for my airheadedness, and invited him in. Handing him the Yatani fruit I was planning to eat, I left for my pantry, preparing us some aeraibellium tea, perfect for an afternoon like this. When I placed the mugs onto a tray, a sweet melody began to flow through the cottage. Even the storm was no match for Rhaus' followers' music. When I brought the tray of steaming mugs to him, he thanked me for it, stilling his music for the moment. We then heard knocking on the door. I was wandering "what on earth are these people doing, travelling along the mountains in this weather?" The bard insisted that I stayed on the bed and drink my tea, which I must say tastes delicious. I couldn't make out what they were saying, however. All I could see was the bard blocking access to the hut and shaking his head through my mirror. It looked like they were having a disagreement. 19 chimes after, the figure left and the bard closed the door. When he returned, the tea was growing cold, so he drank it all in quick, successive gulps. I picked up his mug and placed it beside mine on the tray, but before I could leave, he told me to be careful, that the symenestra were on their harvest. Taking heed of the warning, I headed for the kitchen and began dinner preparations. Dinner wasn't for me, since Leth was the ruler of the sky now, and so I prepared roast fish, cooked in the fireplace and seasoned with the herbs and spices I dried this morning. He told me that the seasoning was exceptional, but instructed me that spinning the fish constantly would keep moisture from escaping. Not too fast or it would take longer to cook, and not too slow or it would dry out. While he ate it with bread, I insisted that he teach me how to play the flute. He told me that I couldn't use his flute, since it was only meant for him, so I had to use my own one. I didn't have one though. When he finished dinner, I remembered that I had shifted from my mortal seeming to my Ethaefal form. He didn't seem all that surprised when I looked at him. He excused himself from the table and left for the guest room I constructed, refusing my insistence on sleeping in my bed. Now that I think of it, I am allowed to open the box now. I wonder what is inside that expensive looking box. Maybe an infinite quill? ~Lira