| Subject: Closer |
Author:
Anawiel
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Date Posted: 16:37:06 06/28/03 Sat
The thick parchment crackled beneath her pale and bony fingers, slowly turning page after page. After each turn she would skim a long nail down the page, muttering in a twisted and forgotten tongue, eyes darting back and forth feverishly despite her calm appearance.
This was how Anawiel spent most of her time. Searching, searching. Endless quests in heavy leather-clad volumes that smelt of knowledge and pipe smoke and ageing dust.
She never quite knew what it was she was looking for or what she would do when she found it. All Anawiel wanted, was an answer. A reason why she was there or a purpose for her in this life. A justification of her punishment. It was on this lonely night that she finally sat back and slammed the book shut.
When she had began this endless, almost mindless, sifting through volumes, the witch had discovered many things of her peoples history, of the great power that resided on Earth and of ways to better herself – become faster, stronger, wiser. But as the tiresome years drifted on Anawiel began to only read the same pathetic whisperings of knowledge over and over and over again, and, to put it plainly, it bored her.
For all these years she’d had to wait and now she was waiting once more. Filling her days with a fruitless search whilst she waited for news from her master. And for the elf.
He was far away now, but getting nearer each time the sun rose and set. She could almost taste his blood in her mouth, dark and rich and bursting with ancient magic and knowledge beyond all creatures. The witch could feel it, closer, closer, closer. And when he arrived, she would be waiting.
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