Averell takes his seat after performing the spontaneous spell, grabbing a quill, a vial of ink, and some parchment as he does so. He then scratches his head a few times before putting that quill into the ink and then onto the paper.
What does the wind feel like? It's as cool as the water, and as hot as the sun. It can be as gentle as a baby's breath, or as hard as a solid stone. We need air to live; without it we die.
But none of that can tell how it felt to have the air flowing FROM me. It was like running through the fields back home on the day of the summer equinox, the wet grass clinging to my breeches. It was like taking a bath without getting wet, streams of air flowing around me and doing what I wanted them to do. It was like my mother's breath on my cheek when she kisses me goodnight.
It's hard to say what it was truly like, because it didn't last very long. But I know it was special, and amazing, and worth doing again.
He reads what he has written several times over, making sure everything sounds right. He can't truly put into words what he felt, and even though he's only somewhat happy with what he put down, the smile on his face lingers on. The feeling of magic flowing through him...
...it can't be described, he adds to the parchment at the bottom. It's as if I am dreaming.