“Watch yourself, Volkarin!” Johanna cackled from the hallway. Her arms full of books, her absurd goggles pushed up into the dizzying array of hair that she had never considered taming for anyone.
Emmrich jumped, jabbing his thumb with a bone threader and sighed in irritation. His oldest friend stood unrepentant in the doorway of his workroom, waiting for his response. Behind her the rush of young humanity hurried to their next classes.
“To what do I owe your kind visit, Jo?” He asked, sucking the blood from his thumb, and straightening from the table where what would one day be a full skeleton lay.
His curious wisp friend rang little bells of irritation and zipped into the ribcage.
“They’re giving you the Tevinter brat,” Johanna said gleefully.
“The Irritating little altus whelp. He needs to take a course on spirit binding, and you’re it. Watcher Holickmore won’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”
He wracked his memory and found only irritation at the interruption.
“I don’t recall any news of—“
“If you would speak to a living person once in a while, instead of just dead ones you might learn some relevant gossip ,” Jo sneered.
“Haha. I recall you were reading a book on a completely irrelevant topic last staff meeting…”
“Rumor says he’s been sent here to get him out of the way.” Johanna continued, “his family currently finds him embarrassing.”
“Which family?” Nevarran nobility was bad enough. If he had to deal with Tevinter…
“Peacock, Plagueis, something like that,” Jo pushed off the door and skived off. “I’d wish you good luck but even you’re not that pathetic.”
Emmrich turned back to the ribcage.
His wisp shot up to hover at eye level.
“She’s getting mean,” Emmrich told them.
His wisp flared in agreement.
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