The smell of fresh lambskin, ink and the musty smell of old books surrounded the young red-robed boy as he sat amidst a large pile of ancient scrolls, the old writings awaiting the transference of knowledge from one page to the other. The boy had chosen vellum parchment, intertwined with cotton fibres, as it almost never went mouldy and the ink would set in strongly and clearly. His father had taught him that.
Daiki, as a member of the secretive order known as the Oracles, was tasked with preserving the sacred scrolls that contained the Suna's most precious knowledge. Daiki was a humble scribe, newly admitted to this secretive order despite his secret family affiliation. As was expected, he started at the bottom rung of the organisation, diligently copying the intricate script from the crumbling scrolls onto fresh parchment. Each stroke of his quill was filled with reverence for the ancient wisdom contained within the text. He knew that his work was vital in ensuring that future generations would have access to the insights of the past.
The halls of the Oracles' library were filled with the musty scent of old scrolls and the quiet hum of scholarly activity. Daiki's fellow members moved about with hushed voices, lost in their own studies and contemplations. It was a place of deep reflection and quiet contemplation, where time seemed to stand still. It was a strange place indeed, with masked individuals going about preserving the vast repository of knowledge, and rarely interacting with each other.
Daiki had found that his own mask, based on his fathers and resembling a cheeky cat (completely against his character) was annoying, but knew that the oracle's insistence of neutrality caused its members to ensure anonymity. He knew his father would be relatively upset that Daiki could not provide him with the information he sought, simply because of the seals that prevented the intentional leaking of information. Secretly, Daiki relished the fact that he had access to information that his father did not.
As he carefully transcribed the words of the ancient philosophers and mystics, Daiki felt a sense of awe at the vast scope of knowledge that had been collected and preserved by the Oracles. It truly was impressive. He knew from his father that only Kumogakure had a library that might compare with this one, but it was unlikely. Each scroll was a priceless treasure, containing secrets of the universe and insights into the human condition. The ancient treatise and histories of Sunagakure through the ages was before him, mentioning such figures as Primus and Secondus - individuals that his father has mentioned meeting in the few times he had ‘storytime’ with the young Daiki. The memories with his father were rare, but powerful to the young boy.
Though the task of copying the scrolls was painstaking and time-consuming, Daiki took pride in his work. He knew that he was a steward of knowledge, entrusted with a sacred duty to ensure that the wisdom of the past was not lost to future generations. And so he laboured on, his hand steady and his mind focused on the task at hand. He continued his work, knowing that he was playing a crucial role in preserving the knowledge of the ages.
The first scroll was complete, and Daiki started to place finely ground sand on the ink to enable it to dry and settle completely. His penmanship was flawless, and it brought a rare smile to the child’s face, hidden by his mask.
For in a world where ideas and beliefs could come and go like the shifting sands of time, the sacred scrolls of the Oracles stood as a testament to the enduring power of wisdom and truth.
[MFT]
[WC: 613]
Daiki, as a member of the secretive order known as the Oracles, was tasked with preserving the sacred scrolls that contained the Suna's most precious knowledge. Daiki was a humble scribe, newly admitted to this secretive order despite his secret family affiliation. As was expected, he started at the bottom rung of the organisation, diligently copying the intricate script from the crumbling scrolls onto fresh parchment. Each stroke of his quill was filled with reverence for the ancient wisdom contained within the text. He knew that his work was vital in ensuring that future generations would have access to the insights of the past.
The halls of the Oracles' library were filled with the musty scent of old scrolls and the quiet hum of scholarly activity. Daiki's fellow members moved about with hushed voices, lost in their own studies and contemplations. It was a place of deep reflection and quiet contemplation, where time seemed to stand still. It was a strange place indeed, with masked individuals going about preserving the vast repository of knowledge, and rarely interacting with each other.
Daiki had found that his own mask, based on his fathers and resembling a cheeky cat (completely against his character) was annoying, but knew that the oracle's insistence of neutrality caused its members to ensure anonymity. He knew his father would be relatively upset that Daiki could not provide him with the information he sought, simply because of the seals that prevented the intentional leaking of information. Secretly, Daiki relished the fact that he had access to information that his father did not.
As he carefully transcribed the words of the ancient philosophers and mystics, Daiki felt a sense of awe at the vast scope of knowledge that had been collected and preserved by the Oracles. It truly was impressive. He knew from his father that only Kumogakure had a library that might compare with this one, but it was unlikely. Each scroll was a priceless treasure, containing secrets of the universe and insights into the human condition. The ancient treatise and histories of Sunagakure through the ages was before him, mentioning such figures as Primus and Secondus - individuals that his father has mentioned meeting in the few times he had ‘storytime’ with the young Daiki. The memories with his father were rare, but powerful to the young boy.
Though the task of copying the scrolls was painstaking and time-consuming, Daiki took pride in his work. He knew that he was a steward of knowledge, entrusted with a sacred duty to ensure that the wisdom of the past was not lost to future generations. And so he laboured on, his hand steady and his mind focused on the task at hand. He continued his work, knowing that he was playing a crucial role in preserving the knowledge of the ages.
The first scroll was complete, and Daiki started to place finely ground sand on the ink to enable it to dry and settle completely. His penmanship was flawless, and it brought a rare smile to the child’s face, hidden by his mask.
For in a world where ideas and beliefs could come and go like the shifting sands of time, the sacred scrolls of the Oracles stood as a testament to the enduring power of wisdom and truth.
[MFT]
[WC: 613]