Shopping For A Workstation

Morning light seeped through the window in Lassim's assigned room, soft but gloomy through the clouds. A few rapid rolls and crashes of thunder nudged him awake. He blinked the sleep away as he got out of bed and got dressed.

The air inside his room was humid, like the storm, carrying the faint scent of new wood and polish from the freshly repaired wall and desk. 

Storing the notebook into his magic pouch, Lassim then stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness in his back. "No time to waste," he muttered.

The spatial alphabet's skeleton had taken shape, but he knew better than to dive headlong into testing it without the right tools. Experimentation wasn't just about raw talent or insight; it required control, a stable foundation, and a workspace that could withstand the inevitable missteps.