Ciaran watches the sun rise and shakes his head. As daylight illuminates the clearing and house, he stands and observes the sky. He looks back down, gathers up his spellbook and returns to his daily meditations.
"I am quite surprised, Aeron," Ciaran begins, "that the storm has left. I was sure that it had come for some reason. I suppose the rain had stopped some time yesterday, but even then, I felt it wanted something. Perhaps I am being too judgmental."
He picks up his belongings and loads Encraidd for the day, making sure he is fed. Galliard stands triumphantly in the saddle, a field mouse in its talons.
"Still," Ciaran continues, as if he never paused in his one-way conversation, "I am probably asking the wrong questions. We ask where the clouds come from, where the river begins, how the first spark of flame appears. Perhaps the key is not in their coming, but their leaving. As the puddle dries, as the rainclouds disappear, as the ground erodes into the river, as the flame dies out... where do the elements go?"
[sblock=ooc]Level 0: Ray of Frost (Domain), Prestidigitation, Mage Hand, Detect Magic, Flare
Level 1: Obscuring Mist (Domain), Lesser Orb of Electricity, Ray of Enfeeblement, Color Spray
Level 2: Gust of Wind (Domain), Glitterdust, Web[/sblock]