Mana

The ambient bubbling of round glass beakers soothed Mana while she read. The short and unsharpened pinch of her talons rested on the corner of a frayed and worn page, her mouth following the line of her gaze in gentle, thoughtless murmur. Upon reaching the faded print of a period, her head lifted, attention summoned by a particular thrum of illumination. She smiled.

“Aha,” Mana’s tone carried with it a lilting cadence, lifting herself from the comfortable reclination of her window sill perch. Among a nest of well-adored plush cushions and where the pale sunbeams stained the effulgence of her vibrant hues into a mild pallor, she set down her book on the solid table in a downward position. It steepled with its thick spine upward toward the ceiling and buckled into flattening as soon as Mana ambled away from it. Despite the audible crumpling, Mana’s attention rested elsewhere, her wide and curious gaze stretched into a comical proportion by the beaker she crouched in front of.

Her wings fluttered in mounting enthusiasm. Through the fixed stare of her calculating postulation, thoughts floated to the forefront of her mind. With a thud of her long tail and an excited trilling noise, Mana whisked herself dutifully toward the mound of papers to scribble a plethora of hypotheses and estimations. A knock upon her door brought her out of her stupor, her face falling with a nervous fluster, wringing the fabric of her robes.

“E-Erm, yes, I am- I’m coming,” She relented, voice hardly above a sheepish murmur. Mana parted with a mild despair from her work, meandering toward the door with a reluctance. She passed a glance at the crumpled lone book upon the table, and mustered a miniature smile at it, with the silent promise to pick it back up once alone again.
Lore by PunchingSolas