Things hadn't gone as planned.
Not that they went poorly, it certainly wasn't wrong either; but things had gone basically in the opposite direction of the plan. Not that he was arguing. The duskwight had come back to the inn room, and he still had the hairclip in his hair. Upon closing the door with his back, Xavarian smirked to himself, quietly amused at an irony all his own, before he decided this was it. That page isn't going without words this time.
He didn't even remove his boots, merely sat himself in the chair and took up the pen stationed on the table with another sheet of that swirly-grained paper he had in the room.
Surprisingly, though it came to a slower start, he actually did manage to write something down this time.
A few reads over later, the duskwight remembered something, a ripple of Aether and a side-eye glance to the door all that was expressing his thoughts, before he took up what he'd just written, carefully placing it into his large, elaborate, tome at his side, then hurried back out the door again. ... However, he didn't go the right way for Avis' room.
Xavarian returned to the Mizzenmast in a rush, the clip that was in his hair had been taken out and returned again, as he found hurrying about as he was, it was actually quite useful. He darted around like a child rushing to find a hiding place with a friend nearly at the end of their count, smirking and amused. The Innkeeper had let him quickly in, to his delight, and the duskwight was now fleeing down the halls in a quickpaced and light-footed dash; at least as much as his long robes would allow for.
He couldn't help but wonder if Avis had gathered where he was heading by his vague answer. She'd find out soon enough indeed~ But by the hells, it'd be a problem if she met him there, wouldn't it? At least he wanted to drop it off before her return; if he was caught, let it be with nothing left in his possession. How embarrassing, to have to hand the roll of pages to her when he'd just seen her.
He only got himself turned around once to Avis' door, and a little before he reached it, he'd pulled out the pages in a ring once again. There was a number of different papers here, (sheets of light parchment, more of the swirling sort he used, pages that were gold-leaf-edged, pages with small designs in the corners; each one somewhat different, as he'd just scribe them there when bored for flourish, and so on) all of decent to high quality, and the one on top was the swirling page he'd written on earlier. If there was nothing wrong with his paper, and she wouldn't ask herself, he'd just toss it in her room. She could do what she wanted with it, but she had it then, and maybe if she found herself with nothing else, she'd have little choice than to get more herself or actually use it. He still couldn't help but think of her poor notebook, and gave a quick, silent huff. Drooling on books and ripping pages out of her notebooks, how dreadful. Though even those thoughts didn't wipe the smirk from his face.
The pages were all held together by what he called a 'scroll ring'; not quite a scroll case, by any means, but much more durable than a tie or a ribbon, and caused less damage to rolled pages. It was, essentially, a small, wide ring that pages are rolled into. This one particularly small enough to fit under the door, but it also clamps in such a way that can hold a number of pages together flat, and by a corner as well. Not nearly as elaborate as the scrollcase he'd given, these were more akin to a rich-man's paperclip, at least down in the caverns. Still, it was metal with a few small engravings on it, but looked like it'd been used.
The roll of pages was slipped under the door, Xavarian grinning amused, before he quickly and quietly bounded back down the hall, not wanting to be caught there... this time.
Not that they went poorly, it certainly wasn't wrong either; but things had gone basically in the opposite direction of the plan. Not that he was arguing. The duskwight had come back to the inn room, and he still had the hairclip in his hair. Upon closing the door with his back, Xavarian smirked to himself, quietly amused at an irony all his own, before he decided this was it. That page isn't going without words this time.
He didn't even remove his boots, merely sat himself in the chair and took up the pen stationed on the table with another sheet of that swirly-grained paper he had in the room.
Surprisingly, though it came to a slower start, he actually did manage to write something down this time.
A few reads over later, the duskwight remembered something, a ripple of Aether and a side-eye glance to the door all that was expressing his thoughts, before he took up what he'd just written, carefully placing it into his large, elaborate, tome at his side, then hurried back out the door again. ... However, he didn't go the right way for Avis' room.
_____
Xavarian returned to the Mizzenmast in a rush, the clip that was in his hair had been taken out and returned again, as he found hurrying about as he was, it was actually quite useful. He darted around like a child rushing to find a hiding place with a friend nearly at the end of their count, smirking and amused. The Innkeeper had let him quickly in, to his delight, and the duskwight was now fleeing down the halls in a quickpaced and light-footed dash; at least as much as his long robes would allow for.
He couldn't help but wonder if Avis had gathered where he was heading by his vague answer. She'd find out soon enough indeed~ But by the hells, it'd be a problem if she met him there, wouldn't it? At least he wanted to drop it off before her return; if he was caught, let it be with nothing left in his possession. How embarrassing, to have to hand the roll of pages to her when he'd just seen her.
He only got himself turned around once to Avis' door, and a little before he reached it, he'd pulled out the pages in a ring once again. There was a number of different papers here, (sheets of light parchment, more of the swirling sort he used, pages that were gold-leaf-edged, pages with small designs in the corners; each one somewhat different, as he'd just scribe them there when bored for flourish, and so on) all of decent to high quality, and the one on top was the swirling page he'd written on earlier. If there was nothing wrong with his paper, and she wouldn't ask herself, he'd just toss it in her room. She could do what she wanted with it, but she had it then, and maybe if she found herself with nothing else, she'd have little choice than to get more herself or actually use it. He still couldn't help but think of her poor notebook, and gave a quick, silent huff. Drooling on books and ripping pages out of her notebooks, how dreadful. Though even those thoughts didn't wipe the smirk from his face.
The pages were all held together by what he called a 'scroll ring'; not quite a scroll case, by any means, but much more durable than a tie or a ribbon, and caused less damage to rolled pages. It was, essentially, a small, wide ring that pages are rolled into. This one particularly small enough to fit under the door, but it also clamps in such a way that can hold a number of pages together flat, and by a corner as well. Not nearly as elaborate as the scrollcase he'd given, these were more akin to a rich-man's paperclip, at least down in the caverns. Still, it was metal with a few small engravings on it, but looked like it'd been used.
The roll of pages was slipped under the door, Xavarian grinning amused, before he quickly and quietly bounded back down the hall, not wanting to be caught there... this time.
