“Are you sure?” Vala raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Are you sure there’s no one else?”
“Well if you don’t-” the Avora sneezed violently into his handkerchief. “Sorry,” His voice was muffled with his nose all clogged up. “If you really don’t want to, we can ask another librarian...”
“No I want to do it!” Vala interjected, as the man sneezed again. “Its just that... why... why me?” Vala stepped back to avoid the spittle flying from sick man’s mouth.
The man looked up, tiredly, wishing that the girl would just shut up, take the job, and let him go to the dreaming lady to relax and heal, but he knew the girl was as persistent as hell, so he sucked it up and told her what she wanted to hear. “I’m sick, the assistant storyteller is sick, and the other assistant storyteller is sick. And none of the other librarians really want to deal with it unless we beg them. You’re the youngest librarian, and more likely to be able to handle the children because you connect to them.” The last line was complete bull and they both knew it, but Vala was still flattered they were asking her. That is, until she remembered she was deathly afraid of public speaking. She loved telling exaggerated tall tales if it was to help set up an exaggerated prank, but trying to keep an entire group of Yasi entertained was a whole different story.
sorry :
“I uh so, what story am I reading?” The storyteller gave her a exasperated glare before blowing his nose into his handkerchief. Vala could tell she was pushing her luck, but she didn’t want to fail the first time she was given such an opportunity, especially since the storytellers were going to abandon her as soon as she said yes. “And uh, might you have any tips on how to... speak publicly?” Vala asked sheepishly.
“Uh, I’m too tired for this petch.” Vala frowned at the language but held her tongue: he was an Avora and she was a Chiet, she knew her place. “You can decide the story, and you’re a charming girl, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Now I really got to go, I feel like crap. I can’t do this anymore,” The storyteller groaned, holding his head, as he walked away, leaving Vala agape with panic.
“What do I do, what do I do?” Vala whispered to herself, flailing her hands. “Ok, first I need a story... oh goddess I only have three bells until the Yasi start coming, oh no, oh no, oh yes!” An idea popped into Vala’s head so violently she had to sit down in her excitement. “Goddess! Priskil! I’ll tell them a story about Priskil!” Vala brought her hands up to her mouth, muffling her words, as Kirna shushed her angrily from the reception table. Vala whispered a hushed “Sorry!” to her boss.
Vala ran to the stacks, heading straight to the shelves filled with the Lores of Mizahar’s many gods and goddesses. She pulled out scrolls and manuscripts, filling her arms with the paper knowledge, and walking to an empty formal study room. She gingerly placed the delicate scrolls down on the large table, spreading them out. She sat down, preparing herself for some research.
It took Vala a full bell to finally find the perfect story. “This,” Vala held up the worn scroll, “Is it.” Vala fist pumped at her luck. She actually didn’t mind having to take the time to read all the lores. She loved Priskil and was just happy to learn more about the radiant Goddess. She was even a little surprised at how little in the records there were about Priskil’s lover Aquiras. She was sad that she and many others knew so little about his sacrifice. She had to wipe away a burning tear with the back of her hand, when she read about his horrible, almost inconceivable fate to be trapped, in a weakened, almost incontinent, state in the abyss. Vala made a little promise to Priskil, that she would one day, when she was stronger, help destroy the jerk Saggallius Hrinn for hurting Priskil so.
Vala picked up the rest the other scrolls, all filled with flowing script of amazing stories Vala wished she could read again, piling them up in her arms. “Oh, here’s the one about Priskil powering watchstones; I’ll have to read this again.” Vala said as she held out another worn scroll before walking back to the stacks, putting everything away. She even spent a few chimes just cleaning up a bit, organizing everything, making sure all the books were in the right places.
With all the research taken care of - Vala had read the scroll so many times that she had basically memorized it verbatim - all Vala had to worry about now was actually telling the story. She wasn’t just nervous about messing up: stuttering, forgetting a line, or something even as horrible as farting while speaking: no, Vala was mostly afraid of misrepresenting Priskil’s story. It was one thing to shame herself, but to bring any shame or embarrassment to Priskil, Vala would never be able to forgive herself.
With scroll in hand Vala walked, anxiously to the octagonal room - to The Storyteller’s Well
