August 6th, OE 102
Sana'a, DEI Headquarters
2:00 PM
"Tilde Cortaine, was it?"
Bertram Kestler's voice drawled out across the interior of his office. In the mid day heat, his tie was worn loose, and even with the fan churning rapidly overhead, he frequently dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief as his fingers groped for another date. Dates, dates, dates! Sometimes it felt to him like was drowning in them. He moved his eyes to the woman before him, seated with apparently no discomfort whatsoever, giving him a faint smile.
"I've acquired something that should be of us to you." She said, in a voice that was like scissors tearing silk.
"As you mentioned." Said Bert hurriedly, seemingly eager to get this stranger out of his office so he could go back to hiding in his refridgerator:
"Listen, I'm understandably skeptical of anyone that might seem a little generou-"
There was a dusty fwomp as something was placed on the table between the two of them. It was an old, black leather box. Giving its corner an inquisitive lift, Bertram raised his eyes at the woman.
"And this is...?" He mumbled, opening it for both of them to see.
"The Song of Life."
Within was a series of laminated, almost perfectly preserved fragments of paper - or, for all he knew, it could have been a very thin metal. Not one to dabble in superstitious nonsense, he made a show of looking it over... and stopped. Something about the inscriptions on its surface grabbed his attention, causing him to suddenly peer closer as Tilde spoke.
"And then it came about that these Two had one Thought and it was a might Thought -- that they would make the Earth to be between the Above and the Below where now lay shimmering only the Endless Waters. So they sat them side by side, swaying their beautiful bronze bodies to the pulsing music of their own great voices, making the First Magic Song, a song of rushing winds and flowing waters, a song of light and sound and life."
Here she paused for a moment, as if savoring the sound of her own voice.
"Some cultures believe that the world was created from a song. Did you know that?"
"T... these are..." Burt managed to stammer as he flipped through the sheets, almost not believing his eyes.
There was absolutely no mistake. He'd seen these figures, these inscriptions before - and not in the journal either, in his own laboratories. A Dimensional Power fluctuation! His mouth suddenly feeling very dry, he said weakly:
"...and you said this was... how old?"
"Easily over ten thousand years, if our dating is to be exact."
Recovering his composure somewhat, Bert placed a hand over his mouth, looking at Tilde with renewed skepticism. And she was just giving this to him? Every alarm bell in his years of business was ringing in the back of his head - it all just seemed to good to be true.
"Why don't you use it?" He asked, as Tilde rose from her seat, dusting her dark coat off and making to leave... but she paused at the doorway, turning her head back.
"Because..." She said, as if it were the most simple thing in the whole wide world:
Sana'a, DEI Headquarters
2:00 PM
"Tilde Cortaine, was it?"
Bertram Kestler's voice drawled out across the interior of his office. In the mid day heat, his tie was worn loose, and even with the fan churning rapidly overhead, he frequently dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief as his fingers groped for another date. Dates, dates, dates! Sometimes it felt to him like was drowning in them. He moved his eyes to the woman before him, seated with apparently no discomfort whatsoever, giving him a faint smile.
"I've acquired something that should be of us to you." She said, in a voice that was like scissors tearing silk.
"As you mentioned." Said Bert hurriedly, seemingly eager to get this stranger out of his office so he could go back to hiding in his refridgerator:
"Listen, I'm understandably skeptical of anyone that might seem a little generou-"
There was a dusty fwomp as something was placed on the table between the two of them. It was an old, black leather box. Giving its corner an inquisitive lift, Bertram raised his eyes at the woman.
"And this is...?" He mumbled, opening it for both of them to see.
"The Song of Life."
Within was a series of laminated, almost perfectly preserved fragments of paper - or, for all he knew, it could have been a very thin metal. Not one to dabble in superstitious nonsense, he made a show of looking it over... and stopped. Something about the inscriptions on its surface grabbed his attention, causing him to suddenly peer closer as Tilde spoke.
"And then it came about that these Two had one Thought and it was a might Thought -- that they would make the Earth to be between the Above and the Below where now lay shimmering only the Endless Waters. So they sat them side by side, swaying their beautiful bronze bodies to the pulsing music of their own great voices, making the First Magic Song, a song of rushing winds and flowing waters, a song of light and sound and life."
Here she paused for a moment, as if savoring the sound of her own voice.
"Some cultures believe that the world was created from a song. Did you know that?"
"T... these are..." Burt managed to stammer as he flipped through the sheets, almost not believing his eyes.
There was absolutely no mistake. He'd seen these figures, these inscriptions before - and not in the journal either, in his own laboratories. A Dimensional Power fluctuation! His mouth suddenly feeling very dry, he said weakly:
"...and you said this was... how old?"
"Easily over ten thousand years, if our dating is to be exact."
Recovering his composure somewhat, Bert placed a hand over his mouth, looking at Tilde with renewed skepticism. And she was just giving this to him? Every alarm bell in his years of business was ringing in the back of his head - it all just seemed to good to be true.
"Why don't you use it?" He asked, as Tilde rose from her seat, dusting her dark coat off and making to leave... but she paused at the doorway, turning her head back.
"Because..." She said, as if it were the most simple thing in the whole wide world:
"It's not my song."