[This instance takes place before the current sanguine occupation of Regalia]
The early morning sunlight filtered through the stained glass of the greenery-filled kitchen, illuminating Ryllae Daxalim humming away as they slid a tray of cinnamon buns into an oven. Though it was hardly half an hour past dawn, the scent of baking bread and sweet confections was already filling the small cafe and spilling out onto the paths of Petal Court. The Cielothar knew it wouldn't be long until the rest of the community slowly began to rise, and they weren't about to let their kinfolk face the new day on an empty stomach. As they slipped from the kitchen out onto the steps of Ever-Verdant to sit in the cool morning air, Ryllae couldn't help but smile as the dwellings around them began to stir with life. A good breakfast was the key to a good day, and Ryllae hoped to make the best of today for everyone around them.
A small kestrel flitted between the bookshelves of Ever-Verdant, nimbly navigating its way through the stacks before it reached its destination. The Ta'rath gracefully landed on Ryllae's shoulder just as they approached two Yanar sitting upon an upholstered couch, enjoying the dying afternoon light as they lost themselves in their books. The pair looked up as Ryllae and their animal companion approached, a pair of smiles gracing their faces as they saw what their host carried- two plates topped with fresh meat pies and butter-steamed root vegetables. They happily took their food as one Yanar offered their thanks. Ryllae simply grinned in response before taking their leave with a wave, heading back to the kitchen to ready the next order. Though they didn't say a word, Ryllae knew they'd made their guests' day a little brighter.
Cutting through the evening gloom, a tallow candle illuminated a humble writing desk tucked away in the top floor of the library. The desk had seen many years of use, and today was like any other as Ryllae sat and penned out a story. The tales were hardly ever planned out; Ryllae believed that the best stories were the ones that came naturally, and that inherent spontaneousness made it all the better. These stories were never published or sold- Ryllae refused to limit access to a good read- but rather were kept stacked in the cafe downstairs for anyone to flip through as they visited. The contents of the books varied widely from tales of brave adventurers to collections of memoirs of things the Cielothar had experienced. The one thing they all had in common was an undertone of joy and life, inspiring wonder at both the fantastical and mundane. It didn't matter that Ryllae never spoke aloud, and why would it? A voice isn't the only way to communicate, and Ryllae was intimately aware that there were a thousand other ways to cultivate happiness.
