“That’s lovely.” Snake teased one of the completed manuscript pages away from me. “And a well chosen hue for the story it tells.”
“Did you know I had changed my handwriting before? As a child, when my penmanship was confused for a doctor’s, I took a paper pad and a pen and practiced every waking moment forcing my hand to write the script I wanted and not what my teachers allowed me to escape elementary school with.” I looked at the flowing italic script. “It took me a month, but I was able to change it completely. It remained my cursive of choice until I took up the fountain pen and destroyed what I had honed.”
I looked up at Snake with a fire in my eyes. “I changed my penmanship to accommodate to the fountain pen. I’m teaching myself new scripts even now in the Waking. There are many that say a person’s handwriting never changes. It is refined, but after the age of 25, it never changes. I’ve changed my handwriting completely twice over, and am doing it again.”
I finished the tale and set the leaf aside to dry. He leaned over the table, inspecting it. “What are you going to do with this, and why did you write it?”, he asked.
“Because the fountain pen gift was not made to be solely admired. It’s beautiful, and covered in precious materials, but it is made to be used. So I’m using it. And since the motive is sea dragons, why not a tale about the Ocean. And the only story I know best, is that one. So why not? Besides, it gave me good practice in controlling the ink hues.”
I capped the pen and placed it on a little stand I had made for it. Yes, it was made to be used, but when not in use, why not show it off as the jewel it is. I knew Snake was looking at the completed pages, but I did not notice he was gathering them up until I saw the large envelope.
“Hey! What gives!”
“You had no plans for these, I assume. You wrote them on a whim, after all.” He slid the envelope into a larger envelope, one with a tie attached.
“Well… yea… no plans, really… but what are you going to do with them?”
“I know where they will be appreciated. That’s all.” Snake, now in his Berber form, tucked the sealed package under his arm. He kissed me on the forehead as he made his way past me to the doorway of the lair. “You might get something out of it.”
“Look, Indiana Jones, those are not made for a museum piece! They aren’t even my best work!”
“Trust me?”
“Never!”
He laughs and turns anyway. I can’t help but chuckle as I yell after him. “At least get a good price for them! And no magic beans! I’ll be farting for years.”
A loud guffaw echoed from just without the door.
On the table, the light glinted off the stylized lion-fish dragons as they kept the secret of the benefactor in silence.