08-12-2016, 01:06 AM
“The sun’s going to go down before too long,” Ciamath observes, directing her gaze to the sky, coloured as though it was ablaze. There’s something magical about this place, something… other, something I’ll never quite catch. “Are you sure you want to look around now? We could always just get some rest and look around tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “I’m a night owl anyways. I’ll probably be up a few hours on the Dataverse before I can actually get any sleep. But, uh-- I feel like I should ask…” I shift a little on Ciamath’s shoulders as she walks. “Do we know where we’re sleeping tonight? Are we going back to Falconsflight-- steel? Or was it smithy…?”
This time Ciamath shakes her head. “I know a place - I doubt we’ll see it while we’re wandering, but if you catch sight of a place called Familiar Angel’s, that’s the place.”
“Okay,” I reply, beginning to survey the area. “But first, we have the bakery and jeweler’s to check out, then there’s that one whimsy-somethingorother…”
I feel Ciamath faintly shudder. “Do you mind if we not stop at that last place?” Immediately I’m tipped off - something’s wrong, and I want to know what. So far Ciamath’s been nothing if not accommodating - it would be odd for her to, without reason, request we not go somewhere. So naturally I want to ask.
“Iffen you don’t mind me asking…” I begin, only to hear her interrupt. “Please, believe that I wouldn’t ask this of you if I was not truly worried.”
I shift uneasily on Ciamath’s shoulders, feeling the sword and board strapped to me bounce against my back. It takes me a moment to piece things together. “I’m… not exactly defenseless,” I reply, “and neither are you. We’re both openly armed, and you at the very least know your way around a fight, I think, if you just casually wearing a spear means anything.”
Ciamath stops for a moment, only to laugh a little. “You’re… deceptively wise for a child,” she notes. “I will trust your judgment. But the moment something concerns you, alert me and we’ll leave in an instant.”
She chuckles and I raise a brow, curious as to what’s on her mind. “Way to kill the mood. What’s so funny?” I inquire, resting my chin on her head to pester her a little.
“Well, with your speed, you could probably just run out the door before anybody could so much as blink,” she says through giggles. “How does somebody like you, so young and inexperienced, learn to move like that?”
I pause for a moment. “I… honestly don’t know. Maybe I’ll learn someday.”
Neither the jeweler’s or the baker’s were open today. Reluctantly Ciamath gave in and let me try leading us to the last place I’d specifically mentioned interest in, since it was still a little early to call it a night.
“Virgil’s Wonderful Market of Whimsy,” I mutter to myself, reading a sign above the door aloud. I then turn my eyes down to the building again and flinch - even in the dark, the eyesore-bright paint job hurts to look at. “Ow-- ow. Regretting everything. LIFE FLASHING BEFORE EYES.” I shut my eyes and violently shake my head, slapping myself with Brug Hild’s hilt once or twice by accident, then I step into the building.
Now that’s an entrance-bell-thing. A dainty little ding-a-ling echoes through the building, which is like a wide hall in how it’s built. At the very back I see a blue mop-haired individual - presumably the aforementioned Virgil - messing about with something or other on a desk with papers strewn messily about across it. Scrolls, quills, ink, stacked books and all kinds of other things populate the surface. Behind it I can barely see him, but he looks like he’s wearing a very roomy cloak.
For a moment I wonder if it doubles as a blanket.
“Ohhhhhhh!” he shouts across the very large room, raising his hands into the air. “How wonderful it is to see customers at this time of day!” In a puff of smoke maybe-Virgil vanishes, then reappears in front of me. I yelp, then smile and clap. “Neat,” I comment.
“Yes, yes - magic is the specialty here,” he notes. “Wonder! Excitement! Discovery! Trinkets of questionable value! That is what we provide here at Virgil’s Wonderful Market of Whimsy! At that, my lovely customers of juxtaposed height, I am Virgil the Unfathomable.” He offers an extravagant bow which doesn’t in the slightest seem official, royal or proper, but it’s charming, so I give it a laugh and a pass.
I catch a glimpse of Ciamath bearing over my shoulder. She carries with her a cautious air, and seems a little bit uneased. I keep that in the back of my mind, even though I myself am beyond interested and, in fact, happy right now. “My name’s Joline. This is my friend Ciamath. I saw this place earlier, and I thought it might be worth looking around. So what’s--”
“Oh, hold on a moment! Jojo, you said?” Virgil interrupts. In the form of purplish, opaque clouds, the word Jojo appears over Virgil’s head. “Nice to meet you, Jojo! As for what we provide here - we have a little process,” he explains. “First - crystal ball, over there,” he starts, pointing over to a table with a deep purple tablecloth over it, centered on which is a golden pedestal with a silvery white crystal ball on it. I feel a hand on my left hand and I hear a sound of surprise leave Ciamath’s lips as she steps forward. I soon find myself doing the same, being pulled along past rows and shelves of various objects with differing glows and strange visual properties to them.
I look to my left hand extended outwards before me - linking fingers with me is a spectral light bluish hand like how I’d imagine a ghost would look. I turn my attention to Ciamath for a moment, who looks… scared. Very scared. Her eyes are wide and locked on the hand linked with hers. Maybe she’s afraid of ghosts or something, I think to myself and hope for the hands to vanish soon.
They do as we approach the table. There are three chairs on our side of the table and one on the other, where Virgil plops down rather comfortably, emitting a creeeeeak from the chair below him. Noticing Ciamath regain her composure, I gently put my hand on hers for a moment and look her in the eyes. Even though I’m almost positive I can’t think at people, as cool as that would be, I try my hardest to. I’m here. It’s going to be OK. We can leave if you want…
“...Are you worried about me?” Ciamath asks, raising an eyebrow. One side of her mouth perks up a little. “And here I thought I was responsible for you.”
We both sit down at the table. I take a deep breath, feeling a little more relaxed knowing Ciamath is fine. “Hmm…” goes Virgil as he stares into the crystal ball. It reflects off his black irises, appearing almost ominous. “So… Jojo,” he adds, raising his eyes to meet mine. The reflection remains as though he hadn’t lifted his head, though. I jump. “I-- what’d I do?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine!” he responds, “but I’m not getting anything on you. When I try to gaze into the reaches of your mind, I’m stopped at the gates. They’re locked and shut by thick chains,” he notes. “Locked by a word called ‘amnesia’.”
I shudder.
“Mind, there’s a couple things I can see. It’s a gate with bars, not a wall. I can see little thoughts and memories, frolicking away in the distance…” he gestures carefully and elegantly with his hands. “...some better than others. Ooh, lookit that one,” he remarks, his eyes now staring gleefully at the crystal ball.
“Hey-- let me see! It’s my head!”
Suddenly Virgil’s cheerful and carefree demeanor turns sober. “Oh…” he mutters. I can just about swear he looks like he’s about to cry. I start to worry about what he might have seen in my head, what he might have seen that I don’t even remember. I… don’t think anything awful happened to me in the past. If something had, wouldn’t I remember it?
...Wouldn’t I?
A snap breaks the silence. “I’ve got it!” Virgil declares proudly, then grabs me by the hand and starts to dash through the building. I squeal, stumbling out of my chair. I just barely avoid being thrown across a table of particularly pointy-looking artifacts as I’m dragged along, kicking my feet wildly against the ground in an attempt to stay on them. “STAAAAAAAAHP!” I shout hopelessly. The world feels like it’s spinning. Where are we? Where did Ciamath go? What little I know of my life flashes before my eyes. I’m gonna die and I won’t even know who I am--
“Oof!” I connect with Virgil as he stops, and as I do so, he stands tall and stiff, not moving or reacting at all to the impact. He let go of my hand a moment ago, I think, because I can put both my palms on the ground to help push myself off the ground. I stand up and sigh. “What was that all about?”
We’re still in the building. We just felt like we were going really fast… that, or moving felt really sudden after getting snapped out of my thoughts. I feel a little bit queasy after all that, too.
Virgil turns around, his eyes gleaming like he just discovered something great. He’s holding a rectangular black case about two thirds the size of me. “Here-- open this. You’re gonna like what’s inside!~” he muses, sounding giddy as a schoolgirl. “Ooh, this is gonna be good…”
Feeling a bit unnerved, I pop open the case and look into it. The inside is lined with deep red velvet, and it’s indented to fit a violin. As would make sense, a dark brown violin rests in the shade provided by the opened top, inside which is two bows to match. There’s a shoulder rest, too, which I figure I’m going to need.
I stop for a moment. “I… do know a bit about music, don’t I?” I half-ask myself, then pluck the violin from its case out of intrigue. I slip the shoulder rest on - wrong way, I think, then put it on the other way around. I smirk a little at the familiar feeling, then produce one of the bows, turning the octagonal prism at its squared-off end, tightening the horsehairs to a point of near-rigidity. Chills run through my scalp, then my whole body. I know this.
With a feeling like muscle memory, I lift the violin to my left shoulder, nestling it between that and my chin. I take a deep breath and run the bow gently along what I vaguely remember being the A string. I then clear my throat and try to match pitch with what I recall being an A. With my still-unfamiliar voice, it feels… odd. Relative pitch is still working fine, which is neat. I push it further by tuning my D, G and E strings with my already-tuned A. Meanwhile, Virgil is taking notes.
Turning ebony wood knobs and playing a few notes for a long time wasn’t exactly a feat of musical prowess, though. I wonder, for a moment, what I might want to play…
It doesn’t take much deliberation. Only one thing’s on my mind, and I’m not gonna get it out unless I’m playing it. I’m even humming it already. “...Hmm, I think… no shifting, not too technically complex - it should do.”
The words surprise me as they come out as much as they surprise Virgil and the currently-approaching Ciamath. Deciding there’s little left to do past actually playing, I take a deep breath and begin to do… just that. My fingers shift into place, feeling somewhat stiff and awkward in the beginning. I start out taking it slow, adjusting to the wrist-twitching, slightly discomforting sensation that I vaguely recall being called vibrato. However, with time, my playing gains speed. Volume. Power. My bow strokes become defined and purposeful, each note sounding more crisp and clear than the last with little trills. I can even imagine the accompaniment as I draw my part to a close.
...And at last, I take a bow. Ciamath’s jaw is just… dropped, her eyes wide. Virgil’s clapping like a lunatic with his eyes shut. “ENCORE!” he shouts.
At last Ciamath approaches me. “You… didn’t see any of that, did you?” she asks, her eyes wide and mad. I tilt my head curiously. “Of COURSE I saw all that. I was AWESOME!” I shout with a big grin, though I quickly turn serious again. “Er… Ciamath, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she decides. “For now I’ll just… keep an eye out for you.”
In the meantime, I notice Virgil approaching me with a brown bag about the size of my forearm across. Etched along the flap which keeps it shut is, in golden cursive writing, the words I shall bear the burden. Neat. “If you want that violin, I’ll throw this in, no extra charge! After all, you’re probably gonna carry it around a lot, and you already have something on your back.”
I stare incredulously at the bag. “You mean to tell me that can hold THAT?” I point to the bag, then to the violin case, which is easily five times larger. “Please tell me I’m right. I want to see that.”
“Virgil the Unfathomable does not disappoint!” he declares boldly, then throws the flap on the bag open. “Put the violin back in the case,” he requests, and I do so, then pick up the case itself and stick one end into the case.
And… it keeps going. And going. And half the case is inside and there’s only a quarter left and WHERE DID IT GO. I look into the bag and see… nothing, and now my head feels like it’s spinning. I groan and stumble backwards. “Owww…”
“That is a Sack of Greater Holding. It’s a little something I got in a while ago! It can carry up to at least a few hundred pounds of stuff - the Stradi-Various there is nothing for that thing!” Virgil explains with wonder in his eyes. Even if it’s silly, seeing the childlike sense of discovery he speaks with - the kind of discovery I’m feeling, even if I’m not really doing the best job showing it - does warm my heart a bit, though it does little to ease my twisted stomach.
I pause for a moment. “Stradi-Various,” I repeat. “So that’s what it’s called? I caught an emphasis there. Was that intentional? Or… what’s so ‘various’ about it?” I ask.
“I’m glad you asked!” Virgil replies, and I jump a little at how quickly he does so. “The thing that makes it so special, why it’s not out of place in a place with all kinds of magical stuff, is that it can change into ANY instrument the attuned user thinks of. On top of that, you don’t need skill in that instrument to play it - skill with the original instrument, in this case the violin, carries over as skill with musical instruments in general. I’d demonstrate, but I don’t really know how that thing’s case works…” he looks almost disappointed, but not embarrassed like I’d expect, based on how simple instrument cases typically are, and like the Stradi-Various’ is.
Instead I dwell on the name. “Stradi-Various. So like Antonio Stradivari,” I observe. “Wait… who’s that again?”
Ciamath makes herself noticed again at last. “Did you remember something?!” she asks excitedly, and immediately I draw parallels between the kind of amazement in her eyes with the kind in Virgil’s. “Anything could be of use!”
I shut my eyes. Antonio Stadivari, I think. Sounds… foreign, and… definitely out of the ordinary to me. Something to do with instruments? I continue mentally, then open my eyes again. “Hmm… no, drawing a blank,” I half-lie, frowning.
“Well, if you don’t mind me digging around more, I could always get some more stuff for you,” Virgil suggests, and Ciamath’s expression sours. “Maybe, uh… maybe not now,” I reply a little nervously. “The offer’s nice, but I’d like to figure things out on my own.”
I straighten up at a realization, then reach to my coinpurse at my hip. “I owe you,” I recall, producing a fistful of golden coins. “Will this be enough?” I expose the coins to the air and hold my now-opened hand close to Virgil.
“Sure,” he replies, taking the coins in hand gingerly. “Kind of hard to put a price on some of this stuff, so I’ll take what I can get.” He flashes a silly, toothy grin. “Anyways, it’s gonna get late out there soon. There’s an inn not too far from here, Familiar Angel’s, you might want to try--”
“One step ahead of you,” I interrupt. “We were already gonna stay the night there. If it’s nearby, though, it shouldn’t be too hard to find, right?” I let out a little oh as I notice Ciamath gently grab my hand.
“Bye! See you again sometime!” I chime, waving with my unoccupied hand. After a very brief walk past a few tables covered in magical trinkets, we pass through the door and Ciamath starts to walk. The streets are less busy now that the sun is down, so I don’t bother asking to ride on her shoulders - I can handle myself on the ground. I can’t help but feel a little awkward, though, as I rush to keep up with her. I decide I might have to go back on her request to not talk about whatever was bothering her about Virgil’s place.
I shake my head. “I’m a night owl anyways. I’ll probably be up a few hours on the Dataverse before I can actually get any sleep. But, uh-- I feel like I should ask…” I shift a little on Ciamath’s shoulders as she walks. “Do we know where we’re sleeping tonight? Are we going back to Falconsflight-- steel? Or was it smithy…?”
This time Ciamath shakes her head. “I know a place - I doubt we’ll see it while we’re wandering, but if you catch sight of a place called Familiar Angel’s, that’s the place.”
“Okay,” I reply, beginning to survey the area. “But first, we have the bakery and jeweler’s to check out, then there’s that one whimsy-somethingorother…”
I feel Ciamath faintly shudder. “Do you mind if we not stop at that last place?” Immediately I’m tipped off - something’s wrong, and I want to know what. So far Ciamath’s been nothing if not accommodating - it would be odd for her to, without reason, request we not go somewhere. So naturally I want to ask.
“Iffen you don’t mind me asking…” I begin, only to hear her interrupt. “Please, believe that I wouldn’t ask this of you if I was not truly worried.”
I shift uneasily on Ciamath’s shoulders, feeling the sword and board strapped to me bounce against my back. It takes me a moment to piece things together. “I’m… not exactly defenseless,” I reply, “and neither are you. We’re both openly armed, and you at the very least know your way around a fight, I think, if you just casually wearing a spear means anything.”
Ciamath stops for a moment, only to laugh a little. “You’re… deceptively wise for a child,” she notes. “I will trust your judgment. But the moment something concerns you, alert me and we’ll leave in an instant.”
She chuckles and I raise a brow, curious as to what’s on her mind. “Way to kill the mood. What’s so funny?” I inquire, resting my chin on her head to pester her a little.
“Well, with your speed, you could probably just run out the door before anybody could so much as blink,” she says through giggles. “How does somebody like you, so young and inexperienced, learn to move like that?”
I pause for a moment. “I… honestly don’t know. Maybe I’ll learn someday.”
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Neither the jeweler’s or the baker’s were open today. Reluctantly Ciamath gave in and let me try leading us to the last place I’d specifically mentioned interest in, since it was still a little early to call it a night.
“Virgil’s Wonderful Market of Whimsy,” I mutter to myself, reading a sign above the door aloud. I then turn my eyes down to the building again and flinch - even in the dark, the eyesore-bright paint job hurts to look at. “Ow-- ow. Regretting everything. LIFE FLASHING BEFORE EYES.” I shut my eyes and violently shake my head, slapping myself with Brug Hild’s hilt once or twice by accident, then I step into the building.
Now that’s an entrance-bell-thing. A dainty little ding-a-ling echoes through the building, which is like a wide hall in how it’s built. At the very back I see a blue mop-haired individual - presumably the aforementioned Virgil - messing about with something or other on a desk with papers strewn messily about across it. Scrolls, quills, ink, stacked books and all kinds of other things populate the surface. Behind it I can barely see him, but he looks like he’s wearing a very roomy cloak.
For a moment I wonder if it doubles as a blanket.
“Ohhhhhhh!” he shouts across the very large room, raising his hands into the air. “How wonderful it is to see customers at this time of day!” In a puff of smoke maybe-Virgil vanishes, then reappears in front of me. I yelp, then smile and clap. “Neat,” I comment.
“Yes, yes - magic is the specialty here,” he notes. “Wonder! Excitement! Discovery! Trinkets of questionable value! That is what we provide here at Virgil’s Wonderful Market of Whimsy! At that, my lovely customers of juxtaposed height, I am Virgil the Unfathomable.” He offers an extravagant bow which doesn’t in the slightest seem official, royal or proper, but it’s charming, so I give it a laugh and a pass.
I catch a glimpse of Ciamath bearing over my shoulder. She carries with her a cautious air, and seems a little bit uneased. I keep that in the back of my mind, even though I myself am beyond interested and, in fact, happy right now. “My name’s Joline. This is my friend Ciamath. I saw this place earlier, and I thought it might be worth looking around. So what’s--”
“Oh, hold on a moment! Jojo, you said?” Virgil interrupts. In the form of purplish, opaque clouds, the word Jojo appears over Virgil’s head. “Nice to meet you, Jojo! As for what we provide here - we have a little process,” he explains. “First - crystal ball, over there,” he starts, pointing over to a table with a deep purple tablecloth over it, centered on which is a golden pedestal with a silvery white crystal ball on it. I feel a hand on my left hand and I hear a sound of surprise leave Ciamath’s lips as she steps forward. I soon find myself doing the same, being pulled along past rows and shelves of various objects with differing glows and strange visual properties to them.
I look to my left hand extended outwards before me - linking fingers with me is a spectral light bluish hand like how I’d imagine a ghost would look. I turn my attention to Ciamath for a moment, who looks… scared. Very scared. Her eyes are wide and locked on the hand linked with hers. Maybe she’s afraid of ghosts or something, I think to myself and hope for the hands to vanish soon.
They do as we approach the table. There are three chairs on our side of the table and one on the other, where Virgil plops down rather comfortably, emitting a creeeeeak from the chair below him. Noticing Ciamath regain her composure, I gently put my hand on hers for a moment and look her in the eyes. Even though I’m almost positive I can’t think at people, as cool as that would be, I try my hardest to. I’m here. It’s going to be OK. We can leave if you want…
“...Are you worried about me?” Ciamath asks, raising an eyebrow. One side of her mouth perks up a little. “And here I thought I was responsible for you.”
We both sit down at the table. I take a deep breath, feeling a little more relaxed knowing Ciamath is fine. “Hmm…” goes Virgil as he stares into the crystal ball. It reflects off his black irises, appearing almost ominous. “So… Jojo,” he adds, raising his eyes to meet mine. The reflection remains as though he hadn’t lifted his head, though. I jump. “I-- what’d I do?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine!” he responds, “but I’m not getting anything on you. When I try to gaze into the reaches of your mind, I’m stopped at the gates. They’re locked and shut by thick chains,” he notes. “Locked by a word called ‘amnesia’.”
I shudder.
“Mind, there’s a couple things I can see. It’s a gate with bars, not a wall. I can see little thoughts and memories, frolicking away in the distance…” he gestures carefully and elegantly with his hands. “...some better than others. Ooh, lookit that one,” he remarks, his eyes now staring gleefully at the crystal ball.
“Hey-- let me see! It’s my head!”
Suddenly Virgil’s cheerful and carefree demeanor turns sober. “Oh…” he mutters. I can just about swear he looks like he’s about to cry. I start to worry about what he might have seen in my head, what he might have seen that I don’t even remember. I… don’t think anything awful happened to me in the past. If something had, wouldn’t I remember it?
...Wouldn’t I?
A snap breaks the silence. “I’ve got it!” Virgil declares proudly, then grabs me by the hand and starts to dash through the building. I squeal, stumbling out of my chair. I just barely avoid being thrown across a table of particularly pointy-looking artifacts as I’m dragged along, kicking my feet wildly against the ground in an attempt to stay on them. “STAAAAAAAAHP!” I shout hopelessly. The world feels like it’s spinning. Where are we? Where did Ciamath go? What little I know of my life flashes before my eyes. I’m gonna die and I won’t even know who I am--
“Oof!” I connect with Virgil as he stops, and as I do so, he stands tall and stiff, not moving or reacting at all to the impact. He let go of my hand a moment ago, I think, because I can put both my palms on the ground to help push myself off the ground. I stand up and sigh. “What was that all about?”
We’re still in the building. We just felt like we were going really fast… that, or moving felt really sudden after getting snapped out of my thoughts. I feel a little bit queasy after all that, too.
Virgil turns around, his eyes gleaming like he just discovered something great. He’s holding a rectangular black case about two thirds the size of me. “Here-- open this. You’re gonna like what’s inside!~” he muses, sounding giddy as a schoolgirl. “Ooh, this is gonna be good…”
Feeling a bit unnerved, I pop open the case and look into it. The inside is lined with deep red velvet, and it’s indented to fit a violin. As would make sense, a dark brown violin rests in the shade provided by the opened top, inside which is two bows to match. There’s a shoulder rest, too, which I figure I’m going to need.
I stop for a moment. “I… do know a bit about music, don’t I?” I half-ask myself, then pluck the violin from its case out of intrigue. I slip the shoulder rest on - wrong way, I think, then put it on the other way around. I smirk a little at the familiar feeling, then produce one of the bows, turning the octagonal prism at its squared-off end, tightening the horsehairs to a point of near-rigidity. Chills run through my scalp, then my whole body. I know this.
With a feeling like muscle memory, I lift the violin to my left shoulder, nestling it between that and my chin. I take a deep breath and run the bow gently along what I vaguely remember being the A string. I then clear my throat and try to match pitch with what I recall being an A. With my still-unfamiliar voice, it feels… odd. Relative pitch is still working fine, which is neat. I push it further by tuning my D, G and E strings with my already-tuned A. Meanwhile, Virgil is taking notes.
Turning ebony wood knobs and playing a few notes for a long time wasn’t exactly a feat of musical prowess, though. I wonder, for a moment, what I might want to play…
It doesn’t take much deliberation. Only one thing’s on my mind, and I’m not gonna get it out unless I’m playing it. I’m even humming it already. “...Hmm, I think… no shifting, not too technically complex - it should do.”
The words surprise me as they come out as much as they surprise Virgil and the currently-approaching Ciamath. Deciding there’s little left to do past actually playing, I take a deep breath and begin to do… just that. My fingers shift into place, feeling somewhat stiff and awkward in the beginning. I start out taking it slow, adjusting to the wrist-twitching, slightly discomforting sensation that I vaguely recall being called vibrato. However, with time, my playing gains speed. Volume. Power. My bow strokes become defined and purposeful, each note sounding more crisp and clear than the last with little trills. I can even imagine the accompaniment as I draw my part to a close.
...And at last, I take a bow. Ciamath’s jaw is just… dropped, her eyes wide. Virgil’s clapping like a lunatic with his eyes shut. “ENCORE!” he shouts.
At last Ciamath approaches me. “You… didn’t see any of that, did you?” she asks, her eyes wide and mad. I tilt my head curiously. “Of COURSE I saw all that. I was AWESOME!” I shout with a big grin, though I quickly turn serious again. “Er… Ciamath, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she decides. “For now I’ll just… keep an eye out for you.”
In the meantime, I notice Virgil approaching me with a brown bag about the size of my forearm across. Etched along the flap which keeps it shut is, in golden cursive writing, the words I shall bear the burden. Neat. “If you want that violin, I’ll throw this in, no extra charge! After all, you’re probably gonna carry it around a lot, and you already have something on your back.”
I stare incredulously at the bag. “You mean to tell me that can hold THAT?” I point to the bag, then to the violin case, which is easily five times larger. “Please tell me I’m right. I want to see that.”
“Virgil the Unfathomable does not disappoint!” he declares boldly, then throws the flap on the bag open. “Put the violin back in the case,” he requests, and I do so, then pick up the case itself and stick one end into the case.
And… it keeps going. And going. And half the case is inside and there’s only a quarter left and WHERE DID IT GO. I look into the bag and see… nothing, and now my head feels like it’s spinning. I groan and stumble backwards. “Owww…”
“That is a Sack of Greater Holding. It’s a little something I got in a while ago! It can carry up to at least a few hundred pounds of stuff - the Stradi-Various there is nothing for that thing!” Virgil explains with wonder in his eyes. Even if it’s silly, seeing the childlike sense of discovery he speaks with - the kind of discovery I’m feeling, even if I’m not really doing the best job showing it - does warm my heart a bit, though it does little to ease my twisted stomach.
I pause for a moment. “Stradi-Various,” I repeat. “So that’s what it’s called? I caught an emphasis there. Was that intentional? Or… what’s so ‘various’ about it?” I ask.
“I’m glad you asked!” Virgil replies, and I jump a little at how quickly he does so. “The thing that makes it so special, why it’s not out of place in a place with all kinds of magical stuff, is that it can change into ANY instrument the attuned user thinks of. On top of that, you don’t need skill in that instrument to play it - skill with the original instrument, in this case the violin, carries over as skill with musical instruments in general. I’d demonstrate, but I don’t really know how that thing’s case works…” he looks almost disappointed, but not embarrassed like I’d expect, based on how simple instrument cases typically are, and like the Stradi-Various’ is.
Instead I dwell on the name. “Stradi-Various. So like Antonio Stradivari,” I observe. “Wait… who’s that again?”
Ciamath makes herself noticed again at last. “Did you remember something?!” she asks excitedly, and immediately I draw parallels between the kind of amazement in her eyes with the kind in Virgil’s. “Anything could be of use!”
I shut my eyes. Antonio Stadivari, I think. Sounds… foreign, and… definitely out of the ordinary to me. Something to do with instruments? I continue mentally, then open my eyes again. “Hmm… no, drawing a blank,” I half-lie, frowning.
“Well, if you don’t mind me digging around more, I could always get some more stuff for you,” Virgil suggests, and Ciamath’s expression sours. “Maybe, uh… maybe not now,” I reply a little nervously. “The offer’s nice, but I’d like to figure things out on my own.”
I straighten up at a realization, then reach to my coinpurse at my hip. “I owe you,” I recall, producing a fistful of golden coins. “Will this be enough?” I expose the coins to the air and hold my now-opened hand close to Virgil.
“Sure,” he replies, taking the coins in hand gingerly. “Kind of hard to put a price on some of this stuff, so I’ll take what I can get.” He flashes a silly, toothy grin. “Anyways, it’s gonna get late out there soon. There’s an inn not too far from here, Familiar Angel’s, you might want to try--”
“One step ahead of you,” I interrupt. “We were already gonna stay the night there. If it’s nearby, though, it shouldn’t be too hard to find, right?” I let out a little oh as I notice Ciamath gently grab my hand.
“Bye! See you again sometime!” I chime, waving with my unoccupied hand. After a very brief walk past a few tables covered in magical trinkets, we pass through the door and Ciamath starts to walk. The streets are less busy now that the sun is down, so I don’t bother asking to ride on her shoulders - I can handle myself on the ground. I can’t help but feel a little awkward, though, as I rush to keep up with her. I decide I might have to go back on her request to not talk about whatever was bothering her about Virgil’s place.