Toki's Offering
Toki stared blankly at the piece of paper before him, unsure of what to do now. The empty space seemed to loom at him in vague, angry challenge. He wasn't sure why - wasn't it an inanimate object? - but he was intimidated by it, all the same.
Ever since speaking with Lady Music's Aoidei, he'd wanted to do this. Try some means of honoring his Lord - a song, perhaps, they had all been able to play instruments in harmony with the Lady's melody. And yet, all he could do was tend to his Lord's needs, and prattle and pace in constant anxiety around the chambers when not given a specific job to do.
How long had it been since he consciously turned his mind to a task that had not been either plainly required or outright requested?
He stared at the paper some more.
No, maybe not a song. His voice was shaky when he spoke, let alone in any other mode; he had been a clerk, at any rate, not a bard or other performer. Those who had held those offices were long gone; and that memory was a road he was not going to follow any further than that, lest his hands tremble violently and knock ink all over the lovely horrible yawning white space that was hissing fill me.
A quick dart of the pen brought no repercussions from the paper maw, and Toki blinked thoughtfully at the dark ink that now scarred the paper's corner. He had written much for Tien Lung in his day, but no great sagas or tales had ever been put to paper by his hand. Only minutes of meetings, and notes on day to day life, that his Lord's memory need not trouble itself to store all details of vast time. But there had been poets at the Court, beings of all shapes come to wax loquacious about the glory of the Gods. Their lilting words whispered in the back of Toki's mind.
What did one do to make a poem? Rhymes were involved, he was sure of that. Toki held the pen over the paper for a moment, brow furrowed in thought, then quickly dipped it down to scribble a few words-
Praise to Tian Yue, the Dragon King
Burn incense and let bells ring,
Many songs everyone will sing,
Because he's better than everything-
Toki mouthed the words, quietly, then drooped. That was terrible. He scooted the paper up and tried again.
Yay! Yay! Tian Yue-
Oh, gods. That was even worse. He hadn't thought it possible.
Stars are shiny,
Galaxies too,
Scales are pretty,
And so are y...
He couldn't even finish that word. "Oh, oh, noooo," Toki moaned, staring at the now-defiled paper with a look of utter defeat. He could practically hear those long-dead courtly poets laughing at him. He half expected the paper itself to explode into flames in sheer horror.
No, he could offer no eloquence in his Lord's service. He put the pen down gingerly and drooped, resting his head in his hands, shoving his fingers up into his hair. No singing, no poetic words, and he had no riches to offer - all he had was his Lord's already. Faithful service was the norm; an offering had to be special. Merely continuing as he always had would not be sufficient.
Toki sat up straight again and tugged at the paper, frowning. The stark black words on the white surface were mocking him. He flipped it over, then folded it in half. Then again.
Folding...
Hm.
Tilting his head to one side, the Aoide turned the folded paper around, giving it a thoughtful look. Then he began folding in earnest, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated, turning the paper over and over as he folded, tugged, refolded, and creased.
Finally, it was done... and it wasn't bad. It was certainly quite a bit better than the abortive 'poetry'. At least, he was fairly sure it wasn't a total waste of his Lord's paper resources.
Taking his prize in hand, Toki crept quietly out to his Lord's chamber. The Dragon King was asleep, a softly-snoring lump in the middle of the bed. Smiling to himself, Toki put his offering on the nightstand and stepped back, looking at it.
"Just a little thing, but it will do. For now," he whispered, and tiptoed away, singing praises in his heart.
