Dagnir2
From Reydala
Dagnir listened raptly to what the elf had to say. It would appear that Seremela was the princess of Leyandra, which would explain a few things. When the storytelling was finished, he thanked the man and silently left. The great mystery was solved, and it would appear that his promise would be kept afterall. As he was heading back to Seremela's room, he bumped into Aknier coming up the stairs. "Ah... Aknier, would you happen to have those letters i had given you? There's been a slight change in plans." For all that it seemed, nothing was wrong and Dagnir was smiling faintly as he spoke with Aknier. When Aknier procured the letters, Dagnir was quick to take them from him and then stuff it into his own coat pocket. "Thank you very much." Continuing down the stairs, Dagnir picked up the speed while his mind raced. Despite all the commotion still lingering from conversations downstairs and the hushed whispers of the temple attendants trying to place the excitement, all Dagnir could hear were the soft tapping of his shoes against the cold floor. He locked his eyes to his reflection on the ground and made his way to find some water, and a pen. He needed to write a new one.
He stopped a younger male who was busy cleaning a statue of some sorts. Very carefully he asked where he might find the water he said he would get, and after being pointed in the right direction and given some directions, Dagnir was off. The course ruffling of his leather attire resounded in the hollow depths of his mind. Something inside him was off, and he could not focus clearly. Perhaps it was a problem of focusing too much. All he could think upon was getting the water, and a pen. He needed to find a quill. Everything was moving in a blur to him. Things lashed together seemlessly and he lost track of time. He had no idea what he was actually hoping to accomplish, but he didn't want to let his mind think anymore. He didn't want to contemplate on the implications of what this newly found information meant. Instead, he focused solely on small menial tasks at hand, with one ultimate goal at the end. At that time, he would be free to think. Yes, free. He got word of where the 'library' of the temple would be, and it wasn't far. In fact, it was surprisingly close. The druid wedged his way into a small secluded part of the quiet room that contained no more than 6 bookcases. Perhaps this was the studyroom for the library. Sincerely, he did not care. Into a fireplace went the old letters, and with a flourish he placed out a new sheet of parchment. Arranging the inkwell and quill properly, the dabbed the tip of the quill lightly to his tongue. It was now time to start, and as the sharp quill began to scratch at the paper, Dagnir slowly turned the valve that had been holding back all manner of emotional thoughts. Slowly, the dark black thoughts and feelings dripped from the faucet and took the form of swift upstrokes and downstrokes. It had to be perfect. He had to make sure she wouldn't follow him. He had to break her temporarily and ever so gently.
The doorknob slowly turned, and Dagnir finally returned to the room. Thankfully Seremela was still passed out. Quietly he placed the pitcher of water and glass by her bedside, and he moved over to her coat. Into the inside pocket, he placed the letter. It was tucked away nicely, and she wouldn't know it was there until she tried to put on her jacket. By then, it would be too late. He hoped. Next in line was to gather up his gear, and pack it up. Swiftly he threw the bag up over his shoulder and silently slipped through the door again. To anyone he asked, he would say that he had more shopping to do, which was true. He needed to find an enchanter, but that wouldn't happen for another day or two. Once outside the temple, he turned into the nearest alley and took a deep breath. There was a flutter off wings, and a hawk flew off from the alley. A few wings were left behind from the furious flapping. It would all be bridge under water soon enough. It had to be.
