Kindly, he would listen to the woman’s questions in spite of his busied state. With tome upon table, inked quill in hand... he remained frozen where he sat in the modest little tavern he had plopped himself down in for the hour. Not wishing to show disrespect by resuming his writing as he listened-- even if it were a feat he could manage to handle with satisfactory amounts of attention given to both acts.
As her questions came to their close... he would smile anew. Setting his quill down in its ink pot before reclining back in his seat. Hands folded atop of his almost-flat belly as he’d speak his reply with warmth and whimsy in his voice.
“Some have called me mad. I simply consider myself to be... creative. An artiste of the arcane crafts, as it were.” Is smile grew a hint. Lips parting to reveal the whites of his teeth. Straight, cared for. A reveal of higher class descent? Or simply a stroke of vain nature?
“As for my mission? Why... look around you. This world has lost its luster. There is no longer a drive to innovate, outside of funneling more and more resources into the war machine. What happened to the discovery of new conveniences for the working man? Or-- to think bigger. Our understanding on the laws of magic, for example? We’ve closed our minds off from what could be, because we’re too busy worrying over who is going to drive the knife into the other’s back, first.”
His smile had vanished, at this point. The mirth in his stormy eyes having faded away now, as his speech drew towards a much more grim note.
“We are a people marching towards our own end. I must do everything that I can to rekindle that spark-- that yearning to grow. Perhaps, then... we will enter a new age. And Azeroth’s denizens will at least, for a time, cease going for each other’s throats.”
Sitting up once again, and taking his quill in hand as he’d position himself as if he were prepared to write again... he wouldn’t take his eyes off of the woman. Stating bluntly, “Collecting the tools necessary for my plan-- the... key pieces necessary, if you will. It will be a difficult task. Almost assuredly a bloody one. I will likely be regarded as a monster for my actions. ... But when my work is done. Perhaps some will come to understand.”
Finally, his smile returned to his lips. Modest, quaint. Perhaps... hollow.
“After all, even some of our world’s most famous artists across the years have gone their entire lifetimes being misunderstood and ridiculed for their genius.”
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
2087
jacobvanloon
vaporwave
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
areudirty
