A time for giving
Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 11:52 pm
It is a near silent creature who crept from his rented room upstairs. A pile of parchment is tucked under one arm, an inkwell and quill in one hand, three candles in the other. The same crimson long coat and skirt are worn, apparently he has napped in them. Deep red tresses are tossled in disarray.
He would find himself an empty table, which is not a difficult task this early hour. Most are just now finding their way to bed, or have not yet finished their morning routines and are no where near ready to come to the tavern. It would be a quiet time to write and take care of some tasks left unfinished.
The worn leather bag is dropped gently from one shoulder, allowing it to settle on the table along with paper ink and candle. The writing could wait, he had need to finish other tasks, before others awoke and found him out.
Settling into the chair, a length of red velvet is drawn from the bag, smoothed carefully before him. Within the bag were a few things he had picked up in town yesterday morning. It had been such a strange day that he had not had time, nor the presence of mind, to get them together until now.
A tiny brown wrapped package was carefully unwrapped. Within lay a simple silver chain. The real prize was the adornment. It had only taken the silversmith two days to prepare it, Altias had been both amazed and pleased with the results. Carefully crafted in silver was a flame, almost like that of a candle, simple but powerful. Along side the flame, hanging carefully and edged also in silver, was a broken shard of glass. To anyone else, it would mean nothing. To him, and hopefully to one other, it would mean more than words.
'Through fire and broken glass'.
The though brought a smile to his lips, something that was not often present these days.
The necklace was carefully wrapped in the red velvet square. From within the bag a ribbon of purest white was taken. The tiny bundle of velvet securely wrapped and tied with a simple bow. A silver edged card of thick parchment was taken also from this bag, the inkwell and quill now came into play as he wrote in careful script.
"Through fire, and broken glass. Always, Altias."
The card was slipped under the ribbon, and the package set aside now.
Slender fingers were laced before him as he surveyed the small gift. There was a long moment taken to consider whether or not the gift would be given to its intended recipient. Something had gone wrong yesterday, and Altias simply could not make heads or tails of it. Something had...changed. No matter. A shake of his head, this was done, and he would make sure to see it through. It would be one of the last things he would be sure of for a very long time.
For a time the things he had brought down with him were forgotten, as he moved with careful steps back upstairs. He paused for a long moment before Ariane's door. A sudden pang of insecurity as he listened for any movement within. Hearing nothing but the soft sound of the breath of the deeply resting, he pressed the package underneath the door. There was no going back. The gift was given, the deed was done. Now all that was left to do was gauge the response.
A timid creature moved once more downstairs into the common room, to resume the act of cataloging all the things his adled mind could recall.
He would find himself an empty table, which is not a difficult task this early hour. Most are just now finding their way to bed, or have not yet finished their morning routines and are no where near ready to come to the tavern. It would be a quiet time to write and take care of some tasks left unfinished.
The worn leather bag is dropped gently from one shoulder, allowing it to settle on the table along with paper ink and candle. The writing could wait, he had need to finish other tasks, before others awoke and found him out.
Settling into the chair, a length of red velvet is drawn from the bag, smoothed carefully before him. Within the bag were a few things he had picked up in town yesterday morning. It had been such a strange day that he had not had time, nor the presence of mind, to get them together until now.
A tiny brown wrapped package was carefully unwrapped. Within lay a simple silver chain. The real prize was the adornment. It had only taken the silversmith two days to prepare it, Altias had been both amazed and pleased with the results. Carefully crafted in silver was a flame, almost like that of a candle, simple but powerful. Along side the flame, hanging carefully and edged also in silver, was a broken shard of glass. To anyone else, it would mean nothing. To him, and hopefully to one other, it would mean more than words.
'Through fire and broken glass'.
The though brought a smile to his lips, something that was not often present these days.
The necklace was carefully wrapped in the red velvet square. From within the bag a ribbon of purest white was taken. The tiny bundle of velvet securely wrapped and tied with a simple bow. A silver edged card of thick parchment was taken also from this bag, the inkwell and quill now came into play as he wrote in careful script.
"Through fire, and broken glass. Always, Altias."
The card was slipped under the ribbon, and the package set aside now.
Slender fingers were laced before him as he surveyed the small gift. There was a long moment taken to consider whether or not the gift would be given to its intended recipient. Something had gone wrong yesterday, and Altias simply could not make heads or tails of it. Something had...changed. No matter. A shake of his head, this was done, and he would make sure to see it through. It would be one of the last things he would be sure of for a very long time.
For a time the things he had brought down with him were forgotten, as he moved with careful steps back upstairs. He paused for a long moment before Ariane's door. A sudden pang of insecurity as he listened for any movement within. Hearing nothing but the soft sound of the breath of the deeply resting, he pressed the package underneath the door. There was no going back. The gift was given, the deed was done. Now all that was left to do was gauge the response.
A timid creature moved once more downstairs into the common room, to resume the act of cataloging all the things his adled mind could recall.