Being nearly a millennia in age endowed one with enough patience to accomplish almost anything, no matter how menial the task. Time seemed to pass differently when you had experienced so much of it already. Slower, as though the whole world were covered in molasses. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that going over ledgers and writing business letters became more entertaining, no matter how old you were.
Nevertheless, Arabella was fully engrossed in her work. A message written to the governor of Illyrium, written in the neat, delicately curving letters of her handwriting. Not a letter of dire importance, but one that needed to be gotten done sooner rather than later. With the Fangs plaguing the kingdom, the she-elf had found herself busier than ever.
The point of her quill scratched over parchment as she sat warmly in a beam of sunlight that pierced the council chamber. Her pointed ears were hidden beneath a tumble of silken gold curls, and she was frowning thoughtfully down at her own work. A cramp was starting in her hand, but she allowed herself no break.
She was so engrossed in her writing that she didn’t notice someone entering the room. It wasn’t until the person on the other side of the table spoke that she realized she was no longer alone — words she didn’t catch. She marked a looping signature on the page, and then finally looked up. Cool blue eyes fixed on her visitor. —
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
titsay
snowghoul
