#evandris.02

It fills her with displeasure to make her way towards the Elarion’s quarters without her sketchbook at hand. Theano prided herself on the cleverness of her designs, as she always found herself filled with ideas when looking at a particular gemstone or another. Yet, all the ideas in the world could do nothing when her wrist is still too tender for proper sketching. Yes, she could force her hand and draw through the pain, but for all that her pain tolerance is relatively high, she does prefer not to subject herself to unnecessary pain if she can. That, and forcing it could irreparably damage her hand, and that would definitively be an issue.

Her current reputation had been built on her ability and her willingness to design intricate and exquisite pieces for all those who sought her out to commission her, and further, she had grown her usefulness through her sketching abilities as offered to the Malaric heir. To suddenly lose the very ability that had allowed her to make a name for herself— Theano could not bear it. She is already forgettable enough when out of sight, she could not afford to be out of people’s minds as well. 

All of it leads her to — metaphorically — drag her feet as she heads to the Elarion quarters to inform Lord Evandris that his commission would take longer than she had originally said. She almost regrets provoking Lord Nuwa, for the sense of shame that will follow her admission to the Elarion heir will stay for her for a while. Almost. Luckily for the man, his reaction had been too damn entertaining to mind all too much. 

As she turns the last corner before arriving at the quarters assigned to the ruling family of Morkhul, Theano blinks in surprise as she sees the very same person she is seeking walking in her direction.