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It was a beautiful day. Nerine had woken up early for her daily practice in swimming with Gundisalv and has, if she can be so bold as to say so herself, that she was getting good at it. Under the tutelage of her new friend, even though Gundisalv shuddered without really shuddering at the title, Nerine had developed a new found confidence in herself.
Just as she went through her daily routine here in the Capital, Nerine found herself standing where the Lead Scribe called home. Nerine wanted to be a scribe because the urge to write to create with words was in her. It would also give her something peaceful to do. It had occurred to this female that she could possibly join the ranks of the Braves but she didn't possess the bone to handle the mental, emotional and physical demands of such a pathway.
Instead with her passive, lake mind Nerine wanted to do something creative and enlightening. Something much better for her skills and passions. Writing.
Yet really what could she write about? Pressing her lips together, Nerine turned around sharply on her heels to run away to figure that out. Maybe if she looked around her, talked with other citizens she could figure that out and present that as her calling to not seem like a waste of time! But who would really be a good subject to write about? Not Gundisalv of course he would have a fit.
There had to be someone else in this pathway that could help her.