(These posts happen after the most recent Scales in the Sand event)
Evangeline stretches in her desk chair, sipping her third coffee of the morning as she looks at the mess her guests has made of her already messy room.
Damp cloths dark with soot litter the room, as well as haphazard collections of bowls and glasses, more than one having being spit unto after a noisy gargle. Even her tunic did not escape unscathed. She plucks off a few strands of fluffy hair, dropping them onto the floor. Had they come from V’aleera, or Jana?.
She laughs at the irony of it all. Her, Evangeline Primrose, Adjucant of the 4th Coven of the 3rd Sect of the holy scale. Her, nursemaiding dragoons and soldiers who had listened too deeply to the Horde’s voice. Still, that life was behind her now, despite its perks.
Free haircuts for example.
The cool outfits.
And a complimentary lunch spread during meetings.
Oh, and the unending ruthless power to bend others under your will though she had always been a bigger fan of the lunch spreads.
Still… she glances at the jar of dragon bone shavings on the desk, she could always start anew. The display in the museum had been destroyed before it could cause any mischief, but here there had been two dragoons and a officer of the flames asleep at her feet. All it would have taken is a few flecks of bone in their water, and a wyrmtear close at hand. Things, she coincidentally had.
However, she had not. But why?
She pulls out the pale blue soulstone Gharen had given her, in the past it had always resisted her touch, now it simply sat, pale and smooth, much as any other rock. The path of the Paladin had seemed attractive to her, a way to curb her excesses, to help her help others.
But perhaps her excesses did not need curbing. Evangeline places it back into the small box she had received it in before sliding it across the desk. Gharen would be disappointed, she knew, as would Orrin, both seeing it as a step backwards for her. However when she left the Cults, she also left behind walking the path others had set for her.
No, she would follow her own path, impulses and all.
Taking pen and paper she begins to write,
“Dear Master Cid Garlond,
I, Evangeline Primrose, do humbly request your guidance in several matters of the technical and mechanical…
“
Evangeline stretches in her desk chair, sipping her third coffee of the morning as she looks at the mess her guests has made of her already messy room.
Damp cloths dark with soot litter the room, as well as haphazard collections of bowls and glasses, more than one having being spit unto after a noisy gargle. Even her tunic did not escape unscathed. She plucks off a few strands of fluffy hair, dropping them onto the floor. Had they come from V’aleera, or Jana?.
She laughs at the irony of it all. Her, Evangeline Primrose, Adjucant of the 4th Coven of the 3rd Sect of the holy scale. Her, nursemaiding dragoons and soldiers who had listened too deeply to the Horde’s voice. Still, that life was behind her now, despite its perks.
Free haircuts for example.
The cool outfits.
And a complimentary lunch spread during meetings.
Oh, and the unending ruthless power to bend others under your will though she had always been a bigger fan of the lunch spreads.
Still… she glances at the jar of dragon bone shavings on the desk, she could always start anew. The display in the museum had been destroyed before it could cause any mischief, but here there had been two dragoons and a officer of the flames asleep at her feet. All it would have taken is a few flecks of bone in their water, and a wyrmtear close at hand. Things, she coincidentally had.
However, she had not. But why?
She pulls out the pale blue soulstone Gharen had given her, in the past it had always resisted her touch, now it simply sat, pale and smooth, much as any other rock. The path of the Paladin had seemed attractive to her, a way to curb her excesses, to help her help others.
But perhaps her excesses did not need curbing. Evangeline places it back into the small box she had received it in before sliding it across the desk. Gharen would be disappointed, she knew, as would Orrin, both seeing it as a step backwards for her. However when she left the Cults, she also left behind walking the path others had set for her.
No, she would follow her own path, impulses and all.
Taking pen and paper she begins to write,
“Dear Master Cid Garlond,
I, Evangeline Primrose, do humbly request your guidance in several matters of the technical and mechanical…
“
