Night Waters and Ripple Runes

I leaned against the dry, carved masonry of the fountain's outer rim as night settled across the square. In the gentle glow of the gas lamps overhead, the water rippled like liquid obsidian. My little walnut-shell ship was still tethered near the ledge, rocking lazily against a patch of green moss. I rested my open grimoire against a dry stone ledge, tracing the faint water reflections shimmering over the arcane diagrams. Dipping the very tip of my scabbard into the pool, I flicked a few sparkling droplets into the center, watching concentric rings distort the reflected stars. A gallant summoner never sleeps when there are waters to read and wonders to watch over.