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[Xana]

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Sleeping soundly, drugged into a blissful rest, Xana dreamed. The dreams were pleasant, filled with the imagery of those things she had encountered since taking rooms in Zento. The hour was late, to be sure, as the only light to be seen was that given by the oil lamps, when she drifted upward and into wakefulness. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and it took her fogged mind several moments to acquaint herself in her surroundings. Almost in slow motion, a faint smile crept across her lips.

Zento, yes, such a serene city, she thought as she lay in the near-darkness. What was not to enjoy here, she idly wondered. Everything she'd so far encountered was incredibly pleasing, from the pastel sunrise to the waterfall at the bridge to the silken feel of kimono against flesh.

In a few moments time, Xana came to realize what it was that had caused her to wake. It was such a beautiful and mournful and soothing melody she heard, and immediately she realized she did not recognize the instrument upon which it was played. She wondered who would play so late into the night, and why. Oh, but the music tore at her very being. Xana told herself she would discover the source of the music, and purchase such an instrument at any cost.

Unable to return to sleep as long as the lone player's music was born gently upon the night air, Xana lay curled upon the soft futon, buried beneath the wonderful blankets. Her own mind wandered as freely as the simple yet complex notes that struck her senses; she envied both player and audience--for she was an accidental audience and realized it, but also knew that such music was never played solely for the pleasure of the musician.

Long after the music fell silent, Xana lay staring into the flickering darkness. Something had stirred within her that she could not identify. Something that tugged and demanded attention, though would not have the decency to identify itself to her.

It seemed as if it took several turns of the clock to bring the light of the sun again.
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An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner

[Xana]

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Eventually the morning did come, and the dawn found Xana anxious. She rose and dressed, fumbling with the unfamiliar clothing; the obi was nearly impossible.

Around the city she walked, taking in the beautiful sunrise and sharing smiles with the few people out so early. When the inhabitants of Zento seemed adequately engaged in their daily business, Xana set about finding out more about the instrument she had heard just a few hours ago. As politely as she could, she inquired at shop after shop to no avail. Perhaps this was an item not easily or readily purchased.

Eventually she came across a demure woman who was willing, and able, to share with her word of what she sought. The instrument, she came to discover, was called a shamisen, and yes indeed they were hard to come by. Those who had them would not readily sell them, and they were often passed along from generation to generation in families--even ones whose actual usefulness was long past but held sentimental values.

This news was agonizing to Xana, until she remembered that she might ask the person who crafted most of her own instruments to come to the island. This seemed the only viable option.

Xana thanked the lady for her information, and hurried back to the inn so that she could pen a letter of inquiry. Hastily the note was written, sealed, and sent off.

The waiting began once again.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner

[Xana]

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Finally, the kind man at the bank of Zento told Xana she'd received a parchment via messenger. Her heart fluttered in her chest with the excitement of hope. After pressing several coins into the man's hand, Xana returned to her room at the inn. With fingers that shook slightly, she carefully broke the wax seal. The anticipation was so great, she realized she had to sit. This she did cross-legged in the center of the futon on the floor. The fluttery feeling in her chest turned to extreme excitement as she read the letter.

Dearest Xana,

It was so good to hear from you. It's been so long, I was hoping all was well for you.

The instrument you've inquired about is indeed the shamisen.

It is related to all other simple stringed instruments, and I feel confident that I could create such a thing for you provided I do the proper research, which I've already begun.

When I feel I have managed to come up with something suitable to you I will make arrangements to meet you in Zento.

Happy travels and happier songs to you, old friend.

~Gladwyn

Xana laid the parchment on the futon and got up. Such news required celebration. Quickly she shed her usual clothing and slipped into the newest kimono she'd purchased. As was typical, she fumbled and fought and argued with the obi, but eventually was able to get it properly tied.

Quietly, she stepped out into the twilight.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner