"In the way to cause the next creator to be experienced in the bizarre. I don't believe he could, but it's certainly a thought."

"How much detail can I put into a world...? I didn't get the impression it was that much. Like, things yes, events no. Do correct me if I'm wrong."

"You aren't. But he was brilliant, and he might have considered it worth his time, to ensure that his work wasn't lost if the book fell to an imbecile." He shrugs. "Just something to think about."

"I'm definitely thinking about it."

Kastimund shrugs again.

"I suppose the best advice I can give is; do not go mad with power. It never ends well."

"Can't say I feel much of a temptation there."

"No? Not secretly harboring desires to write a world where everything is a very fetching shade of green, never giving the other colors a chance to shine?"

"I'm going to save the world, and if I can't do that, I'm going to write one that's even better than this one."

"A fine goal. Should you choose a single color to focus on to the exclusion of all others, would you like me to hit you? See if you'll snap out of it?"

"Somehow I don't feel like that would help."

"Ah, but it might be fun! Well. As close to fun as I have, anyway."

"As much as I support the cause of you having fun, I'd really rather you didn't hit me to get it."

"Ah, fine. If I must, I suppose I'll find amusement some other way."

"Thank you."

"Mhmm," he hums, floating to a stand to give an overly formal bow.

And then he falls easily back onto the swoop to watch the world move below.

Riale watches the scenery and populates the book with childhood memories.

Very pretty, this world. Kastimund can allow himself to be distracted by it for a little while.

Then when he gets bored of that, he decides to paint the sky with fire. Just a little bit of fire, trailing after his index finger as he lazily traces swirls. The little sparks disappear quickly enough, swallowed by the wind.

Something to do. Marginally better than doing nothing at all.

"That's lovely," Riale comments.

"Thank you," he says, a bit caught off guard.

Riale smiles at him and goes back to book-filling.

After a slight pause, Kastimund resumes tracing fiery shapes in the sky. He tries to understand why a simple compliment unnerved him so. The fire he draws dissipates, like everything else he makes. The swoop sails over a beautiful land, and he doesn't find his answer.

Riale slows their flight once, so he can study a river as they pass over it. He puts the river in the book. It's a true copy, and beautiful.

Of course it is. Kastimund isn't even surprised anymore.

He has a dark satisfaction that his visage is the only thing in the book that isn't utterly perfect.

"How long until Dawnbrook?" he wonders, after a while.

"Depends how fast I fly. Not more than a day; at this leisurely pace, we'll be there by around dusk. Do you eat? I brought food."

"I can, but don't need to. I'd just as soon go without, it matters very little to me anymore."