The forge was dark and empty, the furnace and smelters long since closed off for the night. She sat at the desk in her small office, a single candle the only source of light.
With her head low over the page she busied herself with writing her letter, the dark red strands hanging over her face while she worked. Dressed in her full plate armor she seemed ready for a battle or perhaps an attack. “Alright… Lilliana… Aelberyn…”
She said as she put the letters in their respective envelopes sealing them before bringing her drink to her lips. A small sigh and a smile graced her as the drink drifted over her tongue, she had become quite good at making sangrias.
The day had been pleasant at best for most in Silvermoon city; I watched as children and their parents moved through the streets going about their daily business.
I sat comfortably on the bend near the jewelers market waiting for Lilthessa to come by on her daily trip there, I was lucky enough to catch her without much of a wait.
“Hello Miss Sierra.” Her voice brought me out of my thoughts and I smiled up at the warlock.
“Lilthessa I was just thinking about you.” I looked up at her and my smile grew a little her kind features were always a welcomed sight.
“Are you well? Faring better than last night?” She asked and I could only shake my head slightly
“I have had much on my mind; many things are confusing for me these last few days…”
“Oh I would think that things would be more exciting with the Whitedawns, or should I say Dawnfires.” She smiled knowingly and I just grinned
I set Gabriella down gently in her cot; a small smile upon my lips as I moved back into the main room of my cottage the small candle upon the table had already burnt low and the, darkness seemed to be pushing against the orange glow that would fade soon enough.
Without much through I moved towards the small fireplace and tossed in a few logs already chopped days earlier. “Can’t believe this place came out how I intended.” I muttered as the flame finally caught dancing happily upon the dried wood that would give it life for many hours.
“Your old man is not happy, Gena’s death hit him hard.” He wants you to send Gabriella to his estate in winterspring, so he can have her raised with the family name, and perhaps reintroduce the family into Silvermoon society.” Luca brought his cigar to his lips and lit the end causing it to glow as he puffed it, his face shrouded in smoke for a few seconds before it faded.
((Per usual, a few weeks old by now))
The chamber hums to my footsteps. The dome above me whispers and flickers with coruscating light, pulsing as if to my slow heartbeats.
The fug of the small stable is a pleasant and truly bracing scent. Horses, their shifting hooves a rustling thud. One horse specifically, of course. My Alphonse. He lips at my overcoat, dribbling half masticated alfalfa hay over the lacing. My tailor would have a fit.
I fly to her as often as I can. It enrages Svartja, but the feelings of my mount are of very little relative importance to me.