Raconteur Lore:
Who doesn’t like to spin a good yarn?
“Scribe Eido?”
Eido looked up from her datapad—from the endless, repetitive reports and documentation that were normally part of a Kell’s duty—and was surprised to see Crow standing at her threshold.
“Velask,” he said. Eido jumped to her feet and returned the greeting.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Eido asked.
“He just wanted to say hi,” Glint said, bobbing up from behind Crow’s shoulder.
“Oh! …Hi!”
“Hi!” Glint replied, his voice bright.
Crow smirked sheepishly. “We… met in another life. I used to tell you stories with the other children when they were about this high,” he gestured to his knee. “And you were about this high,” he gestured to his shoulder.
“Yes!” Eido said, delighted. “Prince Uldren told us many stories. They were very informative.”
She remembered the voices he put on, the gestures, the flourishes. Warm memories.
“Our hatchlings would be delighted if you came to tell these stories again,” Eido continued. “It would be very educational—we share an oral tradition, as I am sure you know.”
Eido’s four eyes twinkled. “And I would like to hear your impression of Misraakskel. I am certain it is impeccable.”
Crow nodded, smiling. “Consider it a cultural exchange,” he said. Eido nodded vigorously, then froze.
“Oh! How rude of me,” she exclaimed, embarrassed. “Would you like some refreshment? I have several teas from Eris Morn. Some of them are not so odorous.”
Before she could reach for her kettle, Eido’s datapad chirped. It was a sound she had come to despise.
“I am very sorry,” she said, hoping he would understand.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Crow said, turning to leave.
“It was a long time ago,” Eido called after him. “So much has happened since then, but I am pleased you remember.” She tensed for a moment but relaxed when Crow grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
“How could I forget?”
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