[littl3chocobo]

luka started where he always started when wanting to know the answer to a difficult question, in the history wing of the library, he begain near the center of the stacks bast the large empty and double spaced shelves of the current times lay and back to where the recordings ended around the birth of his mother. he wove back and through the shelves slowly working his way farther into the past. he hummed as he worked almost unconciously, the song of questioning just loud enough to find the subject he desired much louder and he'd get false leads from any book with so much as a reference in it. the memory of the story he was looking for came unbidden to the forefront of his mind

once, long ago when i was a young girl his great grandmother's voice washed over him loveingly, proud and vibrent my mother thought it wise to marry me off. i was young and did not understand, nay, refused to understand her reasons. all the same she rallied a fair number of the finest young men, all tall and beautiful, all educated and intelegent, but the foolish waif i was, i turned away them all, i could not bear the idea of staying home and taking up the stitches. no magic is learned at home but that of children luka chuckled, his granna always did hate props, it was her odd-duck way of being special in a family of stitchers so i thought of a way to be free, i declared to my mother i'd marry anyone who could best me in a contest this was where she always paused in the story. he loved this moment so, even after his brother grew older and would rather be outside luka's enthusiasm never waivered and each time she paused he dutifully asked her what sort and each time, with a twinkle in her eye she'd respond a contest of summoning. anyone who could outsing me could marry me.

peaople showed up from near and far, some for my hand some for boasting rights but most for specticle. men, women, old, young, strangers from other lands and fellows from the next town over, everyone came. every hunter who'd sing up a stag i'd sing a mating pair, for every scholar who'd sing up a book i'd sing out a series unbroken, for every lover's entrty i's sing a song of despair, noone had greater magic than i, my blood sang of power and my ego sang of freedom and i sang of anything i had to to stay free and he came to a town where a rosy maiden did sing 'aha!' luka thought as his musings were interupted 'here it is' his hum died as he pulled a quivering book from the shelf "tales of the hero alexander" tucking it into the waist sachel around his waist he kept looking, he was in the right section so he did not need a spell instead relying on the more mundane and much more fun task of thumbing through all the relevent and unspecified texts in front of him

(pt one done, breif interlude for a 'mizuki' pov followed by the resuming of this post)