The Forsaken in the brown woolen robe sat in her quarters, a dusty room dominated by a pine desk.
“Well,” she thought.
Cool light filtered into room as the sun rose somewhere beyond the layer of clouds over Brill.
“That was stupid.”
She hung the censer on one of the pegs by the door. Why there were so many pegs, she had no idea. It wasn’t as though there were enough space for more than one person to live there. And the day she could afford more than one cloak would be a day she’d pay her rent on time.
She slumped in the chair. The censer swung slightly on its chain. Her vision fixated on the glow-dim-glow as the light of the window shifted on the silver. Light dark light dark light…
She lifted a leathery wing, banking to circle down into the gap between the mauve rocks. Wind–
Her reverie shattered, she was standing, looking at a bare wall.
Maybe they weren’t memories after all.
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