012 Locks Picked
[Barging into Raistlin’s room was a daily occurrence for the kender. Full of questions or stories, he’d make his way to the 6th floor, swiftly take care of the lock on the mage’s door, and disrupt his work until he was either distracted or kicked out. Today was no different.
Or, rather, the path was the same. But when the door slid open, there was nothing inside. No vials. No books. No golden-eyed mage.]
Raist? [leaning on his hoopak, his voice is uncertain even to his own ears. It’s obvious no one’s there, unless the mage has taken to hiding under his bed. With all his things. For a moment, Tas is tempted to check… but he doesn’t.]
[For the longest time, he just stares at the bare room; still, silent.
…Raistlin would’ve been proud.]
[ooc: The door is still open and Tas has his journal, but he won't be doing much to call attention to himself, for any who would find him]
Or, rather, the path was the same. But when the door slid open, there was nothing inside. No vials. No books. No golden-eyed mage.]
Raist? [leaning on his hoopak, his voice is uncertain even to his own ears. It’s obvious no one’s there, unless the mage has taken to hiding under his bed. With all his things. For a moment, Tas is tempted to check… but he doesn’t.]
[For the longest time, he just stares at the bare room; still, silent.
…Raistlin would’ve been proud.]
[ooc: The door is still open and Tas has his journal, but he won't be doing much to call attention to himself, for any who would find him]