A simple wooden flute, as long as Vicxa's forearm, it lacks much in the shape of ornamental engravings or markings. Instead its withered and weather beaten hide carries upon it the scrapes and scuffs of adventure as well as shallow, almost imperceptible grooves cut into it to signify particular memories that shouldn't be lost to age. The instrument plays with a mournful, mellow sound in a sombre register, its breathless tone best enjoyed alone under a million stars bristling with potential.