Vexademus stared at the parchment she was writing on. A pause of hand near the ink bottle, fingers up and quill at the ready to dip into the ichor. But the sorceress seemed distracted in just the last few minutes. It was like blood had been dripped into a basin, her thoughts curling, coiling, and spreading out to dissipate and dissolve. A lean forward in a soft exhale, streaked locks that were held in a gently arrested style with a few stragglers hanging forth offered some curtain to her periphery. It was as if the arcane words made little sense to her eyes and her own focus grew blurry. She'd been at learning the last language for a while now this evening after working the counter at the apothecary. She still harbored the container of ashen lye condensed in the hearth of that place, mouth still tasting of the ginger and dried ginseng tea. Oh. Tea. Aye.
Rising from her seat with a push of legs to scoot her distance from desk, she rounded the furniture and walked to the door of her room, scratching her cheek and getting some of that undried ink on herself. A twist of knob and she opened her door, onyx robes dragging seemingly tired alongside her shuffling feet as she passed through the portal. Butterfly lashes shadowed those light mahogany eyes while she pulled the door shut with a few steps behind her and began to descend the stairs. The path walked would lead through the students hallway and to the foyer of the Promethean entrance. It was a trek to find something cold to drink. Or maybe to eat. Vexademus wasn't too sure anymore. It was late.
The fae language was still fresh on her mouth as she licked a few syllables free, naming things that she spied on her way towards one of the many kitchens in that too sweet and intense oral practice.
"Flower. Floor. Pretty...", she happened to pass a golden haired elf and couldn't help but think about the attendant that roamed the hallways of the Dome mostly nude with that pale cream skin and penchant for soft underthings. It was proper that she was able to say that word and think solely of that creature. It fit. Shaking her head, the mage rubbed her face and continued on absently, finding herself somewhat lost. At first.
There was a slowing and then an ultimate stop as she figured out exactly where her feet had carried her. She smelled the scent of moss, of deep earthen stone. How did she suddenly come to a place that the woman wasn't supposed to visit by herself? She was that tired. But she couldn't help it. The force that drew her here was inevitable. Too strong. And it'd been so long since she'd watched the digging take place. It was something so fascinating! Finding a small stone strut to settle on while she listening to the chisels and small hammers that rung over one another. Her eyes were starting to lower and she was lulling into a rhythmic relaxed hypnosis before she caught herself nodding and her lips moving. Sniffing, she touched the back of her hand to her nose, drawing away to see what looked like some small bloody droplets on her skin. The witch brought her sleeve to dab at her nose. It was stopped as soon as it started. Odd. How long had that been going on? What did she say? Her heart had jolted and now mind was on keen alert as she rose and began to return to where she needed to be. The mageling needn't speak about this to her mentor. It was just a coincidence.
Wasn't it?