(no subject)
During a quiet moment in the day, Sasha made her way to a small office on the third floor. There, awaiting her attention, were notes, letters, and books; the correspondence of her informants and the records of her efforts to coax a glimpse of coming days through the veils of time, respectively.
She approached the letters with some curiosity, and a touch of apprehension, as she settled into her seat. She had spent a number of favors owed to stall Tymon, and had incurred a few, herself. Would those she owed, or who no longer owed her, continue to pass her the rumors they gathered, and spread those she offered? Would they have requests, or demands, of their own?
But wondering, she reminded herself, would answer nothing. With a nod of resolve, she took up the first missive, opening it carefully and studying the opening lines.
She approached the letters with some curiosity, and a touch of apprehension, as she settled into her seat. She had spent a number of favors owed to stall Tymon, and had incurred a few, herself. Would those she owed, or who no longer owed her, continue to pass her the rumors they gathered, and spread those she offered? Would they have requests, or demands, of their own?
But wondering, she reminded herself, would answer nothing. With a nod of resolve, she took up the first missive, opening it carefully and studying the opening lines.