2020-08-27 - Patron of the Arts
Aug 31, 2020 17:34:38 GMT
BB, Igrainne (RETIRED), and 2 more like this
Post by Alenea Hanali on Aug 31, 2020 17:34:38 GMT
30 Eleasis, 1497
"Yeah, er... Give me whatever diamond you've got worth at least 500 gold," says the green haired elf impatiently as she looks at the contents of a glass case in front of her.
The jeweller's weathered face drops, "Ah. Yes. I understand. One moment." He turns away and steps through a curtain leading into the back of the store.
Alenea stands tapping her foot and looking around. On the other side of the store a couple is giddily comparing rings as the woman behind the counter gives suggestions. The sounds of a safe door opening and closing reach through the curtain, quickly followed by the jeweller who places a decorative box containing a large clear diamond in front of her.
"That'll do," the elf says and drops a bulging pouch of gold on the counter before swiping up the gem and stashing it in her jacket.
She turns to leave but is interrupted by the old man raising a hand to get her attention, "I'm sorry for your loss," he says, a sympathetic look on his face.
"Yeah, thanks," she turns away quickly and hurries out of the store, the memory of asking the Dao to open the sarcophagus sitting like a lead weight in her stomach.
---
That night Alenea sits at her desk, a stack of five envelopes sat in front of her. Each containing a copy of the letter she's been drafting since the encounter with the medusa. Each to a member of the infiltration team to hell. Ankhet. Laurel. Ruk. Camwyna. Cadfan. The five people she trusts to bring her back when the inevitable happens. Across the front of each in neat letters are the words, Open in the event of the death of Alenea Hanali.
Job done she pushes herself back from the desk and heads to bed. Lying down her mind calms, the anxiety of the past few nights receding now that a plan is in motion. In its place the guilt of leaving the butler alone in a cave fills the night.
"Yeah, er... Give me whatever diamond you've got worth at least 500 gold," says the green haired elf impatiently as she looks at the contents of a glass case in front of her.
The jeweller's weathered face drops, "Ah. Yes. I understand. One moment." He turns away and steps through a curtain leading into the back of the store.
Alenea stands tapping her foot and looking around. On the other side of the store a couple is giddily comparing rings as the woman behind the counter gives suggestions. The sounds of a safe door opening and closing reach through the curtain, quickly followed by the jeweller who places a decorative box containing a large clear diamond in front of her.
"That'll do," the elf says and drops a bulging pouch of gold on the counter before swiping up the gem and stashing it in her jacket.
She turns to leave but is interrupted by the old man raising a hand to get her attention, "I'm sorry for your loss," he says, a sympathetic look on his face.
"Yeah, thanks," she turns away quickly and hurries out of the store, the memory of asking the Dao to open the sarcophagus sitting like a lead weight in her stomach.
---
That night Alenea sits at her desk, a stack of five envelopes sat in front of her. Each containing a copy of the letter she's been drafting since the encounter with the medusa. Each to a member of the infiltration team to hell. Ankhet. Laurel. Ruk. Camwyna. Cadfan. The five people she trusts to bring her back when the inevitable happens. Across the front of each in neat letters are the words, Open in the event of the death of Alenea Hanali.
Job done she pushes herself back from the desk and heads to bed. Lying down her mind calms, the anxiety of the past few nights receding now that a plan is in motion. In its place the guilt of leaving the butler alone in a cave fills the night.