Fri Feb 16, 2007 9:30 am
There would be a package left in front of the room of one Ariane Emory, late late, this evening. A small thing, wrapped in a simple piece of sea green cloth.
Within the cloth is nothing more than a silver chain, it's clasp repaired. A Pendant of a flickering flame, slightly scuffed. And a broken piece of glass. Well, more broken than before. Though shattered, it remained in one piece within it's silver frame.
There is no note, none is needed, he assumes. There is no knock, for he does not wish audience. He simply fades back into the night, silent.