Chương 40: Chapter 37 ~ Self-Assessment

13/11/1111 EotTS 08: 30 Gysel awoke to a pecking, a thunking against the inner glass pane of the left-side bay window. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling: one should enjoy the comfort and warmth beds tend to only have in the morning (even if one would prefer them at night). The pecking came again, thunk, thunk, thunk... thunk, thunk, thunk... then a strange croaked sound like the kind the wooden frogs sold as gifts at music stores make—it is the bird...

it has to be the bird, rather early for the bird... maybe it is hungry, wanting breakfast, and knows this is where the easy meals are. Dragging herself out of bed, she went to see what was rap-tap-tapping at her chamber window: as expected, it was the Tahgwyn Lyuhn.

It was interesting seeing the bird (it was yet to be given a name; naming a wild animal was a recipe for disappointment, grief, and sadness) this early in the morning, even if the bird did not seem to have a set time or schedule, it tended to come closer to dinner, sometimes after (between the eighteenth hour to the twenty-first), but then again, it could show up while its personal pumpkin-seed supplier was not present—maybe one day the bird will come to Wyohla's and peck on her glass.

Walking away from the window, Gysel buried Kawvel beneath her blankets (for his own safety: large birds with sharp beaks, like dogs, were the natural predators of stuffed bears) and retrieved the bag of pumpkin seeds from her desk, and sticking her hand in, she produced a handful, then shut the bag, returned it to the drawer, and went to the window to greet the visitor. She sprinkled the seeds in front of the window, then raised the pane, locking it in place.

The Tahgwyn Lyuhn, like always, was skeptical of leaving the foggy outdoors and slowly entered the room; first, he poked his head in, looked around, waddled in a tad further, looked around again, but did not touch the seeds: he only ever would if Gysel moved, so she did, taking a seat at the desk, maybe five meters from the bird.

"Hello, bird," she said, as she leaned in, placing her elbows on her thighs, and her chin in her hands.

"HeLlo," croaked the Tahgwyn Lyuhn, then it whistled what sounded like the first few notes of a folk tune, but it ran out of melody before it provided enough notes to determine the song.

"hEllO..." The bird had picked up on greetings (just hello), and also whistling (likely picking up the annoying habit from the guards)—but does it know what it is saying?

"Are you happy that I took the time out of my busy, busy day to shell these? Now you can show up when you please and not have to worry about waiting."

"HEllo." The bird hopped further in, and began eating the seeds; it picked up one or two, swallowed them, and looked about, fidgeting back and forth.

"Can I pet you?" The bird did not answer, but it did look up and make eye contact with Gysel, holding it for fifteen seconds (there seemed to be thoughts behind its blue eyes, maybe even more than Myna, but that did not take much), then it laughed in a strange croak, a mocking laugh, a no, and returned to eating.

"Are relationships with dogs the only non-transactional relationships?" Gysel asked the bird.

"HeLLo."

"As much as I enjoy watching you, I would like to pet you. You are very pretty." The bird whistled as drunks and laborers did to Wyohla.

"How long until you trust me?" The alarm clock rang, and the Tahgwyn Lyuhn turned tail, scattering the seeds across the seat board, and fled from the window, flying into the fog, vanishing. Gysel sniffed, and turned off the alarm, bringing her fist down on the button.

"Longer than before..." she sighed. Standing from the chair, she went to the bay window and poked her head out, looking around, searching the fog; perhaps other birds interested in the leftover seeds were nearby, and would appreciate the window being left open, or maybe Puppet-Cat (who seemed to pride himself on his elusiveness) could be nearby and might come and visit? but around the sphere of sight, there was nothing save for ivy, trees, and isolation.

With a huff, Gysel shut the window, but left the seeds on the seat board for another time.

"Well, Kawvel," said Gysel, as she walked to her bed and removed the bear from beneath the covers, "we are up, and it is time to begin the routine." Tucking the bear under her arm, Gysel pulled the boxed divination deck from beneath the pillow, removed the cards, and went to her desk, resting Kawvel next to the clock. Once the deck was shuffled, Gysel set it down in front of her, and asked her question: "Good morning, Divination Deck.

I have a question for you on this foggy autumn morn: What do I need to do to gain the trust of the Tahgwyn Lyuhn?" Gysel drew the top card; it was the Ninth Daughter of Lamps. The illustration depicted a woman shielding a flame within a cracked lamp from the rain. Gysel looked at the card and adjusted her glasses—what does this mean? protection? perhaps... but from what? what could such a large bird need protection from? does it have any predators?

no, it does not, it is a member of the Tahgwyn family, their only predators are windows and maybe a very large house cat with an owner built from dregs who is a piece of mentally vacant and cognitively stunted asylum fodder, who does not understand the ecological impact of allowing their cat to roam free outdoors, there was an article in the Bird Journal eight maidens ago that documented the estimated number of song birds killed by house cats each year across the entire empire, the number was in the tens of millions, and the cats kill them for fun, for fun!

it is a genocide, and these fools are complicit, what is the point of a house-cat if it is not in the house! the rats and mice that affect one are in the house! not at the bird feeder! or at the bird bath! or in the hedges and trees! they are in the house! at least Ardhy's cat is clearly an indoor cat, that is the way cats should be, indoors, Puppet-Cat is not an indoor cat, he enters through windows, and lurks in trees, rafters, and within the library walls, why was he in that tree?

maybe Puppet-Cat hunts birds, no, not Puppet-Cat, that does not seem right? he seems different, where could he be? maybe his owner decided to keep him inside... where would one even keep a strange wooden cat... a clock tower, but that is also where one would keep ravens—with a huff, Gysel added the card back to the deck, returned it to the box, and left it on the bed. She hurriedly dressed, throwing on yesterday's clothes, and snatched Kawvel from the desk, storming out to get breakfast.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. 13/11/1111 EotTS 17: 25 Alone, Gysel sat in the quietest corner of the library's sixth floor at a walnut table made for four. She stared at the blank piece of paper before her, rolling her unloaded pen back and forth across it.

During the walk to the cafeteria, earlier that morning, it had been decided that the project for Spiritual Alchemy would be finished before gloam set in, but in a rather tragic twist, it was proving itself to be far more difficult than first thought, though, the tedium did not arise from within the contents of the assignment, but from the request to keep it contained within five-hundred words, for the last few hours had been spent ruminating on what could be written, and the assignment had been mentally completed, well over the required wordcount, but completed.

Picking up her pen, Gysel loaded it; it would be best to just ignore the word count, because Professor Ihvilakh seemed like the kind of person who would prefer more detail over the word count, as opposed to less detail at the word count; he might also award bonus points to the student who understands themselves to such an in-depth degree! Gysel began to write, and for twenty minutes, the nib of the pen scratched away on the page, as the clock ticked by and people thumped their way up and down the stairs.

With an exaggerated motion, Gysel dotted the final period, set down her pen, and leaned over the drying ink to quietly read over what had been written: Gysel Neekhilst is a smaller woman, standing about one-hundred and fifty-six centimeters.

She has green eyes, the shade of which is heavily dependent on the lighting, ranging from somewhere between a mid-toned mossy green and a deep pine; these eyes, while pretty, struggle greatly at their only job, thus requiring thick, bifocal glasses, with a noticeably larger magnification section, and from this choice of bifocal glasses, one can only assume that Gysel is an avid reader, due to the larger magnification section spanning the bottom third of the lens.

Her hair is a dark brown, bordering on black, and is cut unevenly: the left-side slightly longer than the right, and the bangs slightly sloping towards the left side. From this, one can deduce that she likely cuts her hair herself, or is in dire need of a new barber; and that due to the slope of the bangs, she is likely right-handed. The cause of this was likely a poor hair cut in her youth and the belief that she could cut and style her hair better than a barber.

She likely has a strong sense of independence, and an 'I can do it better myself' mentality. Her clothing consists of tones which occur in nature: shades of greens, browns, and whites or creams; these colors also complement her physical appearance, matching her eyes and hair. Most of the clothing is loose fitting, perhaps a size too large in some cases, and tending towards softer fabrics (wools, cotton, silks, and corduroys).

Judging by these choices, she likely has some sort of aversion to both her own frame, and a strong preference for specific textures; and prioritizes her own comfort above current fashion trends.

She is also prone to wearing the same outfit for multiple days in a row, or different pieces from different outfits mixed-and-matched together (likely the thought process behind her color preferences); from this, one can see that she likely purchases garments with the intent of not having to put a great amount of thought into an outfit, which will then allow for one of two conclusions: Gysel cares little about her appearance, and only likes going outside when it is completely necessary; or that she has a strict aesthetic vision, and strictly adheres to it.

Frequently, she can be seen beclad in a very large, brown, cable knit sweater, leading one to assume that she picks favorites from her clothing, and thus, her other belongings.

Every day Gysel wakes up on the dot of the ninth hour, and goes about her morning routine, which occasionally fluctuates, but commonly consists of, turning off the alarm clock, making her bed as soon as she gets out of it, opening the windows, dressing, gathering what she needs for the day, bidding farewell to her stuffed bear Kawvel (or, on occasion, taking him with her)—these actions are performed in a rather capricious order, so it is likely that, to Gysel, all that matters is that the actions get done, prior to leaving the bedroom.

Following this, she goes about her day plan—which is likely determined the night before—in a very methodical manner. When Gysel encounters people or events that cause, or force, her to stray from the set path she had decided on, she tends to get rather annoyed; either going completely silent and simply staring at that which disturbed her, or offering only one-word answers.

Following an encounter like this, Gysel tends to mill listlessly, before eventually continuing on her original task; this is likely due to her having to adjust the whole schedule around the encounter. If one were to catch her eating on multiple occasions, one would quickly realize that she has a favored meal: cheese, egg, and meat on a bun.

While she does not have a particular preference in bun—leaving it up to the caprice of whoever is making the sandwich—she can be quite particular about the placement of the cheese, preferring it on the top. As to why, it is likely so the cheese melts evenly upon the meat and egg below it. She tends to walk as fast as she can, ignoring the distractions of the things and people around her, moving from point A to point B as efficiently as possible.

From these simple outside observations, one can deduce that Gysel Neekhilst is a person who conforms to a rigid schedule and has a strong preference for maintaining it. Simply put: Gysel is an introvert who likes consistency and silence, in a world which provides neither. Gysel tapped her pen against the page; this was a lot more than five-hundred words—is it? With a sniff, Gysel started counting each word, one by one: there were seven-hundred fifty-eight.

Unfortunately for Professor Ihvilakh, this was the price that came with having a student who thinks in an analytical manner. Placing the cover back over the pen's brass nib, she set it across the papers. There was a knocking on the table.