There was a sharp knock at the door. The writer stopped in the middle of a word, pen leaking ink into the paper. Miss Gentle was being much more coherent than he had expected. What he'd thought would be incoherent, meaningless rambles had turned out to be a colorful story…no, it seemed almost like a retelling, as if Gentle already had the entire tale nearly fleshed out in her mind and was simply dictating it to him. He had to admit, he was surprised. Having Elemental Grace Doriado act as their teacher was also a genius idea. The legendary spirit was known to have mastered all the six attributes, so it wasn't too far of a stretch to link her to the Charmers, elemental casters themselves. More importantly, it was sure to grab people's attention. He was almost excited to keep writing now. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge her.
Two more knocks, louder this time.
"Can you get that for me, dear?" Miss Gentle asked.
"Oh. Of course." The writer blinked and got up from his seat. He had a habit of getting too absorbed in his thoughts at times.
He pulled the creaking door, wondering who was visiting at such a late time. Someone who needed the old woman's medicines, perhaps?
In front of him stood an unknown woman. She seemed old, almost as old as Gentle, though her skin was less wrinkled and more like a patch of leather, rough and tan like she'd spent decades running in the desert. Her hair was cut shorter than his, but it compensated for its length with a vivid red color that reminded the writer of the crimson sunset.
"Blaze. Just in time." Gentle grinned as she saw her.
"Er-Gentle!" She gave a smile, and the man noticed with some revulsion she was missing two of her teeth. "And you must be the writer." She shook his hand firmly. He'd interviewed several sailors in the past when writing a romance that took place on a ship, but none of them had had a hand as calloused and rough as hers.
"Umm… Yes, I am. At your service." He performed an awkward bow.
She suddenly frowned and stared at him. The writer met her gaze for a moment, before awkwardly looking down. He was no good at looking at people's eyes. His father had always complained about that.
"He really does look like Aussa!" She finally declared, laughing like his appearance was the funniest thing she'd seen all week. He wasn't sure if he should be offended by that remark.
"Sorry boy." The old woman apologized, noticing his expression. "It's just… Pfft." She put her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to suppress her guffawing.
"Now, now, Blaze. Behave. You're not fifteen anymore." Miss Gentle sighed and turned to the writer. "This is Miss Ablaze, or Blaze for short. She will be helping with our little book."
"Miss Blaze. It's an honor." He mumbled. Someone had to keep their manners.
"Same, same." replied Blaze, unceremoniously dropping into a chair next to Gentle. "But Gentle, I accepted it 'cause it seemed fun to reminisce a little, but you know I was never good with books."
"Luckily for all of us, you'll only need to talk today. We were about to explain how Hiita, the Fire Charmer, found her familiar."
"That so…" Miss Blaze closed her eyes for a moment as if searching for something within the depths of her mind. "I see. Let's get started then."
The writer sat back down and dipped his pen into the ink bottle once more.
Now that he had finally gotten used to Miss Gentle, a second eccentric old woman had joined them. He didn't think much of it. It wasn't uncommon to have a co-author, after all. Plus, If her storytelling abilities were close in skill to Gentle's, then this would surely be a success.