There’s a very special room At the Oldmerry mission temple More than a sight and circle of prayers And knowledge, transcribed, collected Tended by the garbed men and Women of light (as the dedicated brothers and Sisters have been known as) That room, is not Where they make the wine The cheese and mold the sweets For the siblings of light Are rather industrious. As simple pleasure of Creating from nature, is as rewarding as keeping The written word No that special room is An alcove, behind embroided curtains In the tomes repository, behind the rows of books Scrolls, rose wooden desk with ink and quills (But mostly ink stains) In this quiet abode, glows gentle turquoise light Like captured dust on fresh cool stones And the Serketian mushroom of the under dark There is a stained window on the main wall Yellow and black, scenes of old knights fighting forgotten lords But the light come from above, a little crevasse that filters Moonlight and rays alike In the circle of this private room Lies a man of golden but growing white locks Cascading behind their ears Reading softly from a tome of old tongues His tone lyrical, but his eyes sharp Another man, younger this one Lies and toils at a desk Writing down carefully the translated sounds Of the master in this chamber “…Lydia you know you can’t be here.” Said the monk to the girl entering quietly, without raising his eyes up She stopped mid step, holding her breath and with little foot mid air “Let the girl be,” said the man in green, black and gold tunic His green eyes, one slightly warmer than the other, the other much colder Gazing through the girl's soul: “she never bothers us, let the bee sit and listen if she wishes.” His smile to Lydia encouraged her to sit on a plush small cushion on the floor. The tone never stopping being musical, which clashed with his angular features, Down to his pointy ears. “As you desire Lord Serkan.” promptly answered the man of light. Lydia was delighted. It was the way the words and sounds were almost sang, so easily Rolling off their tongue Into scroll. In trance. Captured in emerald light.
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