A Little Book
Thalevia - January 17, 2006
Sitting crosslegged on the elven bed she had claimed at the inn
in Moonglade, Thalevia dug through her pack in front of her. Her
saddlebags lay beside the bed, stuffed with various items but the
one she was searching for was located in her main bag. The druids
in Moonglade tolerated her barely and she took full advantage of
it by setting her felsteed to roam the grassland around
Nighthaven rather than sending it back to whatever plain it was
summoned from. The looks she got from the elven guards whenever
she walked by followed by her fel hunter Maadom made her laugh
with glee.
First items out of her bag came two little silk bags filled with
shimmering pale coloured dust. She could feel the magic in each
bag as she lifted it and carefully set it in front of her on the
bed. Next came the leather packets, tied with different coloured
cord made from Night Elf hair. Each one contained the different
magical shards needed for her craft. Next came her box of leaded
glass vials, packed neatly and carefully in raw wool to prevent
breakage. Item upon item followed; her sewing kit, bits of
fabric, a stray soul shard that must have gotten caught under
something, and finally the item she had emptied the bag for.
It was wrapped carefully in a piece of black mageweave. She
unwrapped the cloth to reveal a book. The leather cover was
scarred and stained and worn but the pages inside remained mostly
flawless and clean. It had been a chance discovery on the shelves
in Undercity. One of the lore keepers regularly ventured into the
ruins of the old city and scavenged any books he could find.
Thalevia had struck up a conversation with him once when she had
noticed the stacks and shelves of books in his little nook of the
city. One day while talking to him, she had spied this in a pile
waiting to be catalogued.
The soft brown leather had seemed familiar and she had reached
for it without thinking. Turning it over in her hands she had
opened it to find an adolescent curled script inside, it was an
old diary. Something about it had nagged at her memories and she
closed it to examine the cover closer where she saw the faded
imprint of her own name.
She had immediately taken it after a brief argument with the lore
keeper and after reading the three pages she herself had written
she tore them out and fed the vellum like paper into a fire. Then
she had begun anew, using the book to catalogue any memories that
surfaced and to record her own journey as a Forsaken. She also
included any little bits of interesting spellwork she found or
drew quick little sketches in the margins of items she saw during
her journeys.
With a queer little smile, she set about detailing the elves
reactions to her felhunter and wondered briefly if he would enjoy
feasting on one of the purple skinned tart behind the inn’s front
desk.