“Oh, you… uhm… You kept it in the bookcase, remember?” Hylaen says, pushing off from the doorway and pacing across the room, certain to not knock over anything with his adroit steps as he shifts up to a bookcase on the other side of the room and looking over the tomes there. After a moment, he lets out a small “aha!” and pulls out what apparently is the right one, a thick thing with a dark blue cover.

“Probably should’ve asked you for help then,” the old elf grumbles, sucking on a paper cut on his thumb but only for a moment. “But I didn’t want to-”

“You’re awful with paperwork, so you should always ask for help,” the younger elf responds as he opens the tome and pulls out a small stack of parchment hidden between the back cover and final page. “Just looking it over before you leave?”

The silver-haired elf nods once, shuffling over to the chair behind the desk and falling into the seat, kicking his legs up atop the surface. He nearly wipes out another stack of parchment, but quick thinking saves it from certain doom on the floor below.

“Yes, I was planning to,” Ithanar answers once he settles in, hands clasping over his belly. “Perhaps making a few changes as well.”

One of Hylaen’s thin brows perks in curiosity at this statement, but he doesn’t comment on it immediately. No, he looks over the will in detail, lips curling in a frown before looking up at Ithanar. “Want me to read it aloud? We can go over it together,” he asks, leaning against the bookcase behind him.

“Why not?” Ithanar says casually, spinning in his chair to look in Hylaen’s direction. This time, his feet do kick up a stack of parchment, which explodes into the air, which is accompanied by an exasperated growl before he sits up to try and gather them all again. “Damn it all! Just… Hylaen, just skip the-”

“I, Ithanar Islesun-” Hylaen begins with a smirk, watching the drama unfold.

“Fuck off!” The older elf barks in his direction, though it’s uncertain whether Hylaen is the intended target… or a rather devious piece of parchment which evades his grasp.

“You really want me to skip this glorious introduction?” The younger elf quips from his spot, holding the stack in both hands. “Did you write this? The Honorable and Right-”

“Just read the damn thing, Hylaen…” Ithanar insists exasperatedly, having finally put the stack back together. No paper cuts this time, so he takes it as a victory.

“Oh, fine, fine… do you want to get to- which part is most important for you?” Hylaen asks, gaze back on the parchment as he looks it over.

Ithanar waits for a moment to answer, lips turning thoughtfully. He looks up at the ceiling, head tilting back and forth. “I…” He finally answers after a while. “Well, you tell me.”

“You’re much too casual about this,” the younger elf responds almost too quickly. “I think this whole affair is important in general. This is your will we’re talking about here.”

All this sounds familiar. Too familiar.

Ithanar knows his almost too cavalier attitude when it comes to sort of thing often leads to conversations like this unraveling. At this point, he’d almost rather not have this discussion. It’s been a frustrating afternoon, and working on his will has never been his forté.

“Sure?” He finally answers, once again too casual which draws a groan from Hylaen.

“You don’t think so? You don’t think this imp-” The raven-haired elf tries to say.

“Don’t do this, not right now. Just… who have I left my possessions to?” Ithanar interjects, arms crossing his chest now. He’s put his foot down, figuratively, given both feet are still resting on the desk.

“To Ithaerin…” Hylaen begins without pause or reluctance, appearing to have given up on the endeavor of stressing the importance of this.

“Strike him from the record,” the older elf interrupts again, drawing a furious glare from the elf leaning against the bookcase. “I’m not-”

“Ithanar. You cannot be serious!” The younger elf interrupts, fury showing in a sharp tone as he pushes off the bookcase and raises his arms wide.

“Yes, I am,” he responds with his own glare, lips twisting now in a furious snarl. “Completely serious, which is what you were looking for earlier, right?”

“I assume then Inthius should be stricken from the will?” Hylaen snaps, drawing an uncomfortable silence.

It’s a clean thing, clashing with the mess around the room as both men glare daggers at each other. Ithanar considers his next words carefully now, rid of his cavalier demeanor from earlier. This whole conversation has struck quite a nerve.

“Yes…” Ithanar answers, almost saying something more but deciding to close his mouth.

“Let me guess… Il-” The other elf asks, his glare now directed toward the page as though incredibly furious at it instead of his friend.

“Yes, yes, especially her,” Ithanar counters with another growl and his own narrowing stare, teeth bared. He has no plans to include her in the will no matter how much Hylaen might protest… which he immediately does in unsurprising fashion.

“You haven’t even spoken to her about this? About where you’re going?” He inquires, gaze back on Ithanar.

“No, and I don’t plan to,” the older elf responds flatly, gaze shifting out the window to those murky night skies again.  

“Then your will is blank. You realize this, don’t you?” Hylaen states, shaking the stack back and forth in a hand. Again, he isn’t wrong. He never is.

“I’ll leave something to Ris then,” Ithanar responds, still looking out the window. He’s ready for this conversation to be over, but he knows it’s far from it.

“Morningrey?” The younger elf asks, sounding incredulous.

Once upon a time, she actually might’ve been part of the family but that fell through, and for the best. She was too young, and Ithanar… he wasn’t one to be tied down, not then and possibly not now either.

Possibly never. There’s enough on his mind.

“Saoris, yes. I never exactly got back to her after-” He says, attempting to make sure he’s getting the correct Morningrey added to the will.

“Ithanar, can you please take this seriously?” Hylaen threatens, both hands tightening around the stack of parchment to a point where he may tear it all apart.

“I told you I was being serious, Hylaen,” Ithanar responds curtly, looking back at his companion now. “Given how involved you seem to want to be, why don’t you just execute the will and make the decisions.”

A scoff and an angry yell gives way to Hylaen stomping across the room and slamming the parchment against the desk. He doesn’t get this frustrated too often, but Ithanar has indeed struck a nerve to the point where the younger elf gives him a stare that is full of both fury and terror.

“I am not picking up after your mess… no, never, I’ve done enough of that!” He growls in the silver-haired elf’s face.

Ithanar stares right back at him unblinkingly, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Hylaen’s face. There’s another quiet moment, this one tense, perhaps a breaking point of a sort before the older elf finally gives way and leans back, sighing, hand rising to rub his temples.

“I’ll take care of it then. Just… just go,” the old elf says, waving his free hand to try and usher Hylaen from the room.

“Will you?” The younger elf demands, rising from the spot and already pacing across the room toward the door. He stops for a moment and turns, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Ithanar growls once more, watching Hylaen leave the room at that. The old elf’s gaze returns to the window, a calm quiet reaching across the mess and settling over the room.

He knows that he won’t take care of it. Without a family member on it, there’s really no need for a will. Not anymore.

Besides, it’s been a frustrating afternoon, and paperwork has never been his forté.