#earthrunes

Zara is at her desk, trying to write.

And yet, it may not be coming as easily as it has in the past. It is possible a rude and judgemental Gwydion has shaken her confidence in her ability as an authoress.

Which is silly, as Talia Amur is more than moderately successful. She has not told Earl , nor has he pried, how well sales are going, but it's a nice tidy income in addition to her family trust.

The sting hit harder than it should. Mind you, Coradel sent the arrogant falcon in retreat

Coradel is loyal to Zara. A good friend, no matter how rocky their start had been.

And Earl, of course, is her Trueheart. Lacking objectivity.

She has other friends, she could ask. Perhaps not as biased as Earl. Clem might be a straight shooter. Siv rarely holds her opinions. So many troll friends. Mmm there are her sisters, also possibly biased. Tzip and Vashti each have their views though the latter might be hard to communicate with

"Feh."

She closes the laptop and sinks deeply into the shadows of her wingback.

The wingback is always good to sink into.

Maybe she needs an associate she respects rather than a die hard friend? From her perch of solitude, she can contemplate options. Dame Claire is dutiful, and not unpleasant, but might give an Ailil's view, more alike a Gwydions than either House would admit. Herald Inish grows old, but the Clurichaun is always willing to assist if called

No.

Zara has never flouted Talia Amur. Has never held pretense that the books were literature.

The Gwydion wasn't wrong.

Then logically, it should not trouble her.

Should it?

Logically, it shouldn't.

And yet.

And yet.

Earl is recovered by now, time in the hold and Emma's assistance. He's not aware fully how this sits with her, but her love is not dim and is tied to her soul now and she to his. He will eventually realize the extent of her distress.

Which one might see as inconvenient

Terribly so.

A knock on the door.

Zara crosses to open the door - calling out rarely works with her whisper.

She finds a familiar, but perhaps unexpected figure at the door! Natira smiles to Zara. "Mind if I pop in?"

Her eyes widen slightly, betraying her surprise. Or perhaps the salt in the wound.

"Ms. Gould. Aye, and welcome." A slight pause. "What brings you hence?"

"Well, a call from an associate. And of course I always welcome the invitation to visit. If a visit is not unwelcome?" She pauses on the threshold, waiting for The Librarian to issue an invitation, or not, as she may.

"Salutations are greetings,' said the voice. 'When I say 'salutations,' it's just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning.” - Bronte swoops down from her perch on the shelves, delighted to see the authoress.

"I... Bronte, darling, yes, I know." Slightly flustered. "If you please, I can prepare some tea." Zara steps to the left, gesturing the satyr inside.

"Oh, tea would be delightful!" She clips in, her hoofbeats softening as she steps from the polished tiles of the hallway to a plush rug that seems to know to muffle footsteps just so.

The satyress slings a satchel off her back and sets it on the floor. Bronte may find that it draws her attention! Though, Natira shakes a finger at her gently. "Courtesies first, lovely one."

"Tea shall be provided. Please, make yourself comfortable." She takes on the task with a certain relief - taking leaves from the special casket to brew, the treasure which will ensure the resultant tea is her guest's favorite flavor.

"Bronte is a rather shameless snoop. I believe she can smell ink a mile away."

Bronte indeed sniffs the air near the satchel as if it were a bakery piping out hot rolls

Natira laughs in delight, as she settles into a chair. Then, she sniffs the air. "Is that... Yunnan Golden Needle?" A bit surprised!

Archly. "A hostess is always mindful of the tastes of their guests. Especially when they are welcome ones."

"I started drinking that when I was barely more than a faun. I read somewhere that this was likely the tea that Jane Austen drank, and hoped it would inspire me. To be honest, I thought it tasted like an ash tray, but made myself keep drinking it." A chuckle. "Then one day I realized I looked forward to the cuppa. Weird how that works..."

A soft chuff of laughter. "One could pick a far worse arbiter of taste than Lady Austen." She sets a cup and saucer by Natira. It's a dainty thing, the cracks repaired with silver instead of gold.

A moment spent to admire the cup as well. "How lovely. I had to start buying cheaper stuff myself - when I get into a fit now and again when the prose won't come as I feel it ought to, I tend to toss them at the wall." She sips, and hums with pleasure. "Empty, of course."

"I could see the appeal, though methinks the sound might be enough of a deterrent."

She chuckles. "Ever heard of a rage room? They have ear protection, though one as keen as yourself might need to double-up."

"Doubtless. Sugar?" She offers - a tarnished silver bowl with matching tongs. Cubes, not loose.

She accepts a lump, and spends a happy quiet few moments sipping. Then, she remarks, “I understand there was a bit of a tiff,” she said lightly. “And I must say, I rather envy you, Zara. A stalwart champion, ready to cross blades in your honor? If only all of us authors had such devotion."

Zara tenses, looking down at her cup. She added her customary curdled cream.

"Ah."

She continues, "Imagine the battlefield strewn with wounded critics—why, I might never receive another scathing review again.”
She lets the jest settle, watching Zara carefully before adding, “Truly, though, I hope you are not letting one knight’s unrefined taste trouble you overmuch.”

"He should not have leapt so. I... oh, there is flattery in it. That he would be stirred so in my defense."

A soft sip, nodding, and letting Zara go on if she will.