Kir awoke to the sun shining through the blinds that he forgot to close yesterday. sending him to groan and fall further into his blankets refusing to open his eyes. He didn’t have the frame of mind to magically close them so he just groaned and cursed out Amber in his mind. But something happened that reminded him of a task he had to complete. His stomach growled.

“Shit”

Until his delivery arrived he would have to actually eat for a week, the main issue with that being there was no food in any of the recesses within his home. Thus he began to do the mental math, the nearest grocery store was a 15 minute walk, he didn’t have a car and the subway was pointless in this scenario. Any purchase online would instantly show his position to the order.

Teleportation was out of his wheelhouse, magic like that was far beyond him at this point. A draught wouldn’t take effect unless it was drunk in its entirety, though a thought brought him solace. He only had to go out once and as far as he remembered he still had a few stability draughts. Though the fact that he had to be among people then sullied his revelation. Dragging himself out of bed he got dressed, downed a stability draught then left his apartment, his stomach growling at him.

It was surprisingly early as he was fully awakened by the light of the sun, the streets were largely barren as the night's chill began to fade. Opening the front door he yawned and shuffled his way onto the street. The persistent frost lingered, causing Kir to shudder and rub his hands together.

He spoke an incantation and brought his hands to his mouth, blowing out some cinders with his breath and warming his hands. A man bearing slitted irises, bundled up in a brown trench coat with scales going up the side of his neck passed Kir and tipped his hat. Kir nodded briefly in response and made his way to the store.

The double doors slid open with a chime. Rows of shelves holding various goods beyond a lane of checkout workers, though this being early in the morning only a single worker was on the checkout line. Kir made his way in and grabbed a red basket from the side of the desk and walked further into the store. The sterile air of the supermarket kept the cold of the outside from seeping in but it didn’t heat up the interior either.

The market was completely empty save for one elderly lady waddling up the aisles rummaging through the shelves for whatever she desired. The refrigerated section was in the far back blasting cold air at whoever passed it. Kir still groggy and irate stared at a packet of cup noodles vacantly. His mind was struggling to comprehend anything so painfully mundane. Runic equations came to the forefront of his mind keeping him from reading the flavouring of the noodles.

Over and over he read the type but the words simply refused to register with his brain. He tried to recite an old gnomish nursery rhyme he learned from a friend in highschool but that only proceeded to clutter up his thoughts more, now coming to the forefront of his mind was an existential query on the concept of supposed immortality being at odds with scientific projections of the inevitability of the universes heat death and subsequently the creation of any life being the result of divine preordination or perhaps things simply have no apparent reason for existence.

Which coincides more directly with free will? Following this was a memory from primary school which forced its way forward of his pained parental bonds All of this simultaneously flooded Kirs consciousness as he stared solitary at a cup of noodles in a supermarket aisle. The overwhelming clutter of his thoughts began to flare up, gradually increasing waves of anxiety causing tears to begin welling up in his eyes, a constant stream of information racing through his mind. .

“Interesting label?” A voice broke through the rising whirlwind.

Being awakened from his oblivion Kir turned his head to the source of the strangely familiar voice. Leaning over with a confused look on their face was a woman, golden eyes and blonde hair. A delicate beauty that radiated despite the environment. Being inches away from the woman finally allowed Kir to pin her inheritance, this surprise and leftover stupor from his oblivion caused him to mutter a phrase in Celestial.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, following his lead and switching from english.

“Sorry, I was thinking, did you need something?” He queried, gesturing to the shelf.

“No, I’m ok, you were just standing there for a while and I thought you might need help”.

“You spoke to a complete stranger in a grocery store?” Kir’s face was bewildered. The woman shrugged.

"Well you seem to speak the word of angels, you can’t be that bad.” Kir briefly smiled at the comment.

The woman stood about an inch taller than him and was adorned in a thick, yellow woolen sweater and denim jeans. Kir opened his mouth to speak, thought a moment reluctantly then spoke regardless.

“Your performance last night was really amazing, you don’t get many true bards outside of En’Sirith”.

“Hm?” the woman furrowed her brow.

“I was at the engagement party yesterday and saw you perform”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it”

“Can I ask? I imagine a bard this far west would be waited on hand and foot after a performance”.

The woman nodded as she listened to the question then replied with some apparent practice.

“Of course, I could stay in a beautiful five star hotel but I’m only in a metropolis such as this for a couple of weeks and I’d rather be somewhere authentic before I get back to the Citadel”.

Kir smiled inwardly.

The sentiment would sound really pretentious coming from a random tourist but it was believed that a bard was more inclined to understand the essence of a place rather than the idealized beauty of the upper-class.

“But still, you chose here? I saw three muggings and eight rats on my walk over here” slightly exaggerated a phrase but the sentiment still stood. Eryssa shrugged and smiled.

By the nature of a bard their being exuded charisma, whether they wished or not, as such a simple act such a smile emitted a compelling force to ease things to amiability. They become in touch with the very tune of magic and through word and song are able to draw people to them. Able to sway a crowd with a note and incite emotion with a simple song. This innate ability didn’t however take away their ability to spell-sling, simply altered the way they cast magic.

There was however an element of curse to their existence. When the words that you say to another carry a potent magic, often a person is persuaded to do as they’re told. Some bards use this to their advantage while others were known to live in frustration, questioning whether any of the relationships they had formed were soiled with magic or evident of their true self. The effects that they held often dampened considerably when speaking to those aware of the world's arcana. And in the case of someone like Kir, spellcasters would often cast steadfast wards and counter-charms to protect themselves from such influence.

Though without the influence of her magic she was a stunning woman regardless, and most importantly a conscious being, and where there was a conscious being, Kir lost it. Though now it seemed, a byproduct of her ensorcelled words kept the recipient placated, this surpassing Kir’s fear without the need for potions.

“Come on, this is the place to be. It might be a little....run down, but you can feel the culture everywhere”. Eryssa offered.

“Mm yep...no” Kir nodded then shook his head.

“You just need the eyes to see”.

At those words Kir paused for a second and his eyes began glowing blue. He began to make a show of looking around.

“Hmm yep..yep” the glow faded “still looks like crap to me”.

Aryssa let out a small giggle bringing her hand to her mouth causing Kir to get the odd heart palpitation, not even at the sweetness but just the idea of making someone laugh. He smiled in response.

“You’ll see it someday I’m sure, maybe it's just more special to a tourist”

“Let’s hope so, in the meantime I’ll keep the rats and knife wounds”. She smiled again.

The two began to speak of the event. Apparently Sirani had heard of her arrival and sent her a message, inviting her to the party. She claimed she made a point of travelling to different places in order to compose ballads in their honour, though the song she performed the night prior was an ancient one. They began gathering their goods as they spoke.

“What’s the citadel like?” at the mention her eyes, unbeknownst to Kir, dropped subtly.

‘It’s...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, rising pillars of gold and silver floating atop a sprawling metropolis. Filled with…well, elves and divines mainly”.

“Like, pureblood, real elves?” Kir questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Pointy ears and all.”

“Amazing, I would love to go sometime, but…” he paused, Kir opened his mouth to continue but closed it again.

“Don’t worry, I understand”. Kir’s eyes snapped up in shock. Eryssa gave a soft smile.

“I’m a bard and a Divine, I can smell the stability draught”. Kir stood silent momentarily, before he could speak up Eryssa continued.

“Let’s make a deal, you show me around the city you know, and when you come to the Citadel I’ll make sure you know the quiet areas, and where to get some of that draught if you need it”. Kir stood silent for a moment.

He had enough draught for a day of tourism, but after that he needed to wait for Luther’s delivery. Not to mention stay inside for another three months before even considering going outside again . By this point they were checking out, the indifferent clerk spoke.

“Your total will be 32.45”

“Oh right, Just a second”.

“Here you go” He fumbled with his wallet before passing over some cash. Eryssa completed her purchases as well, local snacks and sweets, and they continued out to the front of the store. Kir pulled up his hood against the wind and Eryssa pulled on a well knit woollen beanie.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow then”. Kir said, not bothering to put up a front.

“It’s a date” , the phrase carrying a hint of coyness she turned and walked off down the street leaving Kir with a half focused expression.

“I hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea” he thought to himself for a second and then dismissed the thought thinking no one could even have that idea about him in the first place.

Kir made his way back to his building and began to think on the last couple of days. The most social interaction he had in almost a year, the only ones before that being the times Amber came around to make sure he was healthy and alive.

Even with Luther he would typically only send a burning note from his house and wait for the delivery. It’s a shame stability draughts had an actual expiration date. As Kir approached the ground floor of his building his mind began to clutter again, filled with conflicting thoughts on loneliness and pain, mandate contradoxies, and regret of every decision ever made.

The thoughts got louder, and louder, he reached his level. Louder and louder, his door. He swung it open and slammed it shut. Quiet. The charms in his apartment to calm his mind began to take effect. Of the enchantments laid about his house, these were most numerous. They served to calm his mental state and relax his thoughts. Without them he might've obliterated Damien on instinct.

His worries flowed out from his mind and the soothing of the runes began to calm his thought process. He had barely made it in time. He made a silent prayer to whichever god happened to be listening and stumbled his way over to his desk opening the spellbook and letting his eyes pour over the scrawl he called script. He spent the remainder of the day how he always did, engrossed in his work. Though this time of the combat variety.