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seerchlightIt's the dead of night in the house now, but at least one fairest is still hard at work doing...well, something. He's been in the library for hours now, looking at the books. Not reading them, no. Just floating past them without even inclining his head, as if absorbing something about their presence by osmosis.
He mumbles under his breath as he goes, sometimes seemingly stopping to focus on contemplating something, before gradually moving on. He's far less sedate than he was the day before, but so much more exhausted looking. There are no baggy eyes on his features in which to tell by, but its as if the light that consumes his form is somehow duller and flickering now. Like it's been gradually losing strength.
The silence of the library is interrupted occasionally by him swearing loudly and irritably. Whatever he's doing, it seems frustrating.
He mumbles under his breath as he goes, sometimes seemingly stopping to focus on contemplating something, before gradually moving on. He's far less sedate than he was the day before, but so much more exhausted looking. There are no baggy eyes on his features in which to tell by, but its as if the light that consumes his form is somehow duller and flickering now. Like it's been gradually losing strength.
The silence of the library is interrupted occasionally by him swearing loudly and irritably. Whatever he's doing, it seems frustrating.
