Post by AST Tai on Apr 22, 2009 1:34:20 GMT -8
Ophelia lie on her bed, pushing her reading glasses up to the bridge of her nose. She gripped the book with both hands and hauled it up and onto the bed with her.
Clicking the lighter once more to light the candle on the bed stand, she cracked open the beautiful heavy thing to the page 459 and pulled out a small notebook and pen along with a small language translator.
(Ophelia bought a VERY large, Very ancient looking book in the troll market.)
She rubbed her tired eyes and continued to scan and scribble, cussing every once in a while, but never speaking above a whisper.
"Dreamers. I trade dreamers, and I can't even translate you properly? Gah. You proved your worth it and more when you zapped those monsters in the dreaming. Protecting Emil and I, But still..."
She continued for a long while, til well past midnight. The candle slowly burned down, the wax pooling in the plate. (It was a mess, but Ophelia liked to read by candle more then electric light. It was just more old fashioned that way.)
Her eyelids fluttered shut and the book slid from her fingers, with them barely touching it still.
Soon after the candle suffocated its wick in the wax pooling inside. All that night Ophelia would dream of the book speaking to her, never realizing it really was speaking while she slept ignorantly.
Clicking the lighter once more to light the candle on the bed stand, she cracked open the beautiful heavy thing to the page 459 and pulled out a small notebook and pen along with a small language translator.
(Ophelia bought a VERY large, Very ancient looking book in the troll market.)
She rubbed her tired eyes and continued to scan and scribble, cussing every once in a while, but never speaking above a whisper.
"Dreamers. I trade dreamers, and I can't even translate you properly? Gah. You proved your worth it and more when you zapped those monsters in the dreaming. Protecting Emil and I, But still..."
She continued for a long while, til well past midnight. The candle slowly burned down, the wax pooling in the plate. (It was a mess, but Ophelia liked to read by candle more then electric light. It was just more old fashioned that way.)
Her eyelids fluttered shut and the book slid from her fingers, with them barely touching it still.
Soon after the candle suffocated its wick in the wax pooling inside. All that night Ophelia would dream of the book speaking to her, never realizing it really was speaking while she slept ignorantly.