[PRP][CHRON] Inky Drops (Ruse and Ibalazwe)

[Geyser Eelborn]

Lake water and a bucket of oak galls, and a couple other exotic supplies to round it out, and Ibalazwe was ready for a productive afternoon. He felt a twinge of guilt about taking the afternoon to make ink--Water Tribe had plans for Mirro te Weavia, to make it into a shining place of learning and stronghold of knowledge, and funny thing about that, it took labor to do all that. So a lot of effort at the moment was being put to building, but...well, darn it, wasn't making ink just as worthy a pursuit? It would help people pass on knowledge. And that was why, every day, Ibalazwe was down by the lake, doing his experiments. It had started innocently enough, every week taking time off for his pursuit, but it was quickly becoming an obsession. He was trying out a new formula every week, making little clay jars to hold the ink in during the morning and evenings, and mixing the inks in the afternoon. He was building a small collection, adding new colors and formulae all the time, and today...

Today was no exception. He had black ink, naturally, it was the first thing he had made, but a bit of inspiration had struck last night when playing around with a couple ingredients. Ever since, he had been jittery with excitement and impatient. Now, his paws black with stain, he set to work, oblivious of the world around him, of the glitter of water or of the breeze in his fur.

His mind began to wander with the repetitive work. He wondered if water could be stored in the orbs of Water Tribe, could ink be stored as such, too? His current mixture had an awful lot of water in it, and come to think of it, most of his inks were mostly water with some pigment and gum. So would it be possible someday to carry his own store of ink around in his gems? He'd never tried it before, but there had to be a first time to try everything...

TruthsoftheWicked

I believe you said Ruse was looking for ink, right?

Also, lemme know if the font is too light to read.

 

[[ Radical Dreamer ]]

It had been just another day, returning to the water capital, Mirro te Weavia to drop off his recordings. Yes, they were to return once a year to publish their findings, however this one particular chronicler had already filled the worn pages of his journal and required a new one as well as a fresh bottle of ink. Silent longing to perhaps happen upon one of his siblings, while there did cross his mind. However, he knew at the same time they where just as busy as him, and unlike most he did have a set of wings which made it easier to travel from place to place. So, needless to say, he did find it unlikely that he would see them as much as he had missed them. His duty and life was the the weaver and the mask. Though loyal to his cause, it didn't stop him from hearing the rumblings and wondering where they did get their ink, that they use for their writings. It was a curious thought, and was one the Chronicler thought well to investigate. Such an investigation, had guided his wings to the the lake. It was then that, the chronicler had noticed someb'alam off in the distance. Who looked to be working about the lake. Who seemed to be collecting and making something....

How intriguing, the Tahtll seemed to know what he was doing, every movement he made was so purposeful. It was like every fiber and strand of fur was involved, down to his toes all up to even his gaze and brow that was so focused...

A breath left the Tahtll, as his teal eyes took in the sight of a lack of hiding places around the lake, but that was the nature of most lakes was it not? The chronicler would have to make rest right then in there, he wanted to keep the scene untainted by his presence. Quietly, the b'alam settled down comfortably in the shade of the tree, the shadow did well to keep him more out of sight and protect his gaze from glare. His thoughts pawlessly, unsnapped the bundle that hung from his fur tanned neck. Careful thoughts, then worked to pull free the fresh journal had had recently acquired. Opening the binding he heard the spine flex. Even past the gold and silver mask, the fresh smell that was unique only to paper wafted up to his nostrils. The wonderful smell, caused the writer's own tail to tick with delight, and a pleasant to shoo up his spine. He could shiver with delight. Such a amazing smell alone was worth the journey...

Teal eyes look past the mask to the lone b'alam that worked at the lake as he did working thoughts uncorked the new bottle of ink. Hearing the sharp 'pop' caused the Chronicler to recall one thing that he had forgotten. A disapproving sigh seethed pass the mask. His quill. He had forgotten to replace his quill.

No matter, it was a easy fix...

Turning his head, the chronicler opened up his wings, and set his tools down carefully to pull free a primary feather from the back of his dark wings. A wince flicked quickly across, the watcher's hidden maw and a sigh was released. It was only to be muffled by the precious mask, that carefully cloaked his features.

But back at the matter at hand.

Moving the quill out in front of him, The winged chronicler used his moving thoughts to pull the inner vane. Just a little for the quill to be more exposed for ink. A hidden content expression rested on the writer's maw, as his wings shifted slightly on his back. His tan tail shifted and curled around himself as he made himself comfortable once more.

Now, back to...well the start of recording once more.

Dipping the quill into the ink well, The on looker began with his recording. Once again, each and every word was written without emotion and plain with facts that where clothed wonderfully with vibrant description. Just because the works, and recordings of events had to be written down without his emotion, it could still be enjoyable to read. right? That after all was a good goal to have in a author's book. Yet, more importantly this work, the fresh pages in the book he carried was all of b'alam's work. So, it must be -at least- enjoyable, if not wonderful.

The chronicler took time to carefully record and describe every moment he witnessed. His blue and seaweed colored gaze remained unmoved from the subject as he worked. His quill without a glance, it flicked and twisted about, making careful paw-writting on the tan pages of the journal. The page of the book was quick to fill with description, and in a steady movement it was turned. Unhindered the quill went back to work on the fresh canvas. Painting in perfect detail the design on the tahtll's pelt, how he work and how the wind even tousled his fur as he took a break from his toil. That, and how quickly he was to return to his duty. What ever that work was, it was inspiring to see how he kept to his task. It was good to see more b'alam like that...

A sigh left the Watcher, as he toyed with the wonder what else was to happen as he often did as he watched a moment in time. He had learned and watched how such a peaceful moment could be changed so drastically in a quick moment, even in a blink of a eye! So it brought up the question: Would that happen here? Would more join, or would this tahtll keep studiously to his work, and accomplish his task? Would he discover something new? Meet someone new? Either way and what ever the result, this moment in time, was another one that was to recorded in history and was another moment to be read by another.

Surely, it was an achievement unlocked....