[It is already late evening when the journal comes to life with yet another post. Unlike most of them, there is no voice at first; only the harsh sound of the flowing river can be heard, all other sounds almost blocked out by the loud noise. It remains like this for almost a minute, steady and almost overwhelming
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[He turns around, footsteps serving as an indication of that.]
Am I hearing things..?
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[A few moments and unsure steps later, his hands come to rest on the tome.]
Would you mean this grimoire?
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[For let it be known that there is no better way to approach talking books than to be polite.]
I thank you for your worry... milady.
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