Lament of a Noble Born

 

Everflight’s address wasn't that far from the city limits. A half hour walk at most. And it was seemingly a popular area, given that the road was an actual road and not some dirt path.

But this whole situation just rubbed me the wrong way.

First was the fact that someone picked me by name before within the hour of being told people could choose children to mentor. Technically speaking, that didn't surprise me all that much. I was expecting Firebrook to snap me up at first opportunity. But for some woman I never heard of or met to pick me out so quickly? Oh yes. That set off all sorts of red flags in my head.

Add in the fact on how she muscled her way into, basically, reserving me. A seal from the royal family is not just something you can ask for. Even with my ‘real world’ twenty first century knowledge of nobility and the like, I can tell that this is beyond unusual. If it was a favor she called in, why waste a favor with the royal family on me? If it wasn’t a favor, and the King himself was watching me…

Was I snapped up by name out of nowhere, or was I unknowingly being watched for some reason?

I really don’t know which was worse.

After a good half hour of walking, I reached the address. It wasn't a house, it was an estate.

It sat amongst a vast track of cleared land, tended to by a vast array of enchanted gardening tools that floated about. Each going about their tasks without pause. Several buildings made up the large estate. At the center of it was the manor itself, standing five stories tall, with a large balcony on the highest floor. Red and gold-stained windows. Clean marble walls with a red tiled roof. Neatly ordered flower beds. Chairs and benches for lounging rested amidst a massive garden in the front.

A large fountain, a stone dragon with ruby eyes shooting water from its mouth, laid before the font doors. I could just make out a large grassy field in the back with some sheds.

Yet, a few things I saw didn't add up. A series of tiny cracks in this, otherwise, picturesque location.

The grounds around the property seemed a bit too unkempt for an estate of this size. In particular, the footpath to the front door seemed to be overgrown with weeds and other greenery. Some bushes looked a little too disorderly for where they were along the path. Half the flower beds had flower petal colors that did not match any theme or reason. While that in and of itself could be the theme, it doesn't add up when the other half has a clear color scheme of red and yellow.

And then there is the property itself. Overall, it was beautiful. But again, some things did not add up; though far less than the grounds around it. While some windows shined brightly in the sun, others were matted in a fine layer of dust. As if they hadn't been cleaned in years. A few windowsills had bits of paint chipped off them from exposure to the elements. Yet the front door shined as if it had been recently painted.

For a house this sized, you'd think that the owners would take more care of it.

Strangest of all was how mana seemed to flow around the house.

Unlike most places, where ambient mana would flow around the building’s structure, this place looked like the eye of a hurricane. All ambient mana was shunted out of the area surrounding the property.

In particular, there seemed to be a swell of mana by one of the lawn chairs (sofas?) out front. But no matter how much I looked at it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Something was not right.

Not right at all.

Taking a breath, I crossed the threshold to the main grounds.

Immediately, I was beset by a sense of vertigo. The world around me seemed to tilt back and forth. My body involuntarily shivered. Every hair on my body stood up. Numbness gripped my entire being for the briefest of moments. I barely even noticed my foot coming down.

Then in a second it was over.

I righted myself before I completely lost balance.

My head swiveled in every direction, looking for anything that might have caused whatever the hell that was! But there was nothing. Not even some faint dividing line in the ground separating the property from the nature around it.

Not wanting to stick around in one spot. I double timed it over to the front door, doing my best to avoid the uneven tiles along the path. Reaching the door, breathing heavily, I took a moment to compose myself. Clean up my hair. Straighten out my robes. First impressions were important after all. When I felt I had made myself presentable, I knocked on the door and awaited my first glimpse of my mentor.

No response.

Huffing, I knocked again.

No response.

Frowning, I knocked harder.

Yet again, no response.

I sighed to myself.

Great. Just great.

Frustrated, I uncrumpled the note I got in the envelope with all the other stuff to see if I had misread the address. Not an unwarranted belief given the ‘out of sorts’ look this place had.

No, it was right.

‘Come here immediately’, she had written. ‘Time is of the essence’. Couldn't even bother to be here at the time-

“Can’t even be here on time…” I mumbled under my breath.

“Actually, you are the one who is late.”

Turning to the source, I found that one of the reclining chairs in the garden was occupied by an elven woman smiling at me, an open book sat on her lap. Her red hair ran down to her mid back. Everything about her looked like it was sculpted to perfection, from her blemishless pale skin, her soft facial features, to her perfect figure.

The elven beauty wore a simple red dress. A very thin dress that did little to hid her figure or assets. The fabric was almost sheer enough to see her skin underneath and I could even see her nipples poking out as her sizable bosom press against the fabric. Apparently, she was not a fan of wearing bras….

My response to this beautiful goddess? And what was the first impression given to my possible future mentor?

“Ughh,” eloquent, I know.

She took my stuttering in stride with a good-natured giggle, “technically, you did arrive on time. But that might as well be late. Arriving on time doesn't imply that you are punctual, it tends to send a message that you don't care about the meeting in question. That you’re only going to put forth the minimum effort required.”

I know I should be listening to her right now. But I know that seat she’s in was empty when I got here. Was she-

“But I do apologize for that little bit of deception earlier,” she explained as she stood up and strode towards me; her tits swaying slightly underneath their thin prison with every step. “I am, in fact, pleasantly surprised. You did see me, but you put too much stock in what your eyes saw rather than what you see; if you understand my meaning.”

I’m genuinely unsure of how to act in this situation. Everflight came to a stop right in front of me. I knew I should be paying attention to her words, but it was taking everything I had to merely keep my eyes above board.

Technically, my eyes were right at the board….

No! Stop it! This is my mentor! Sure, she’s super-hot, and seemingly likes to wear skimpy clothes that just barely conceal anything from the eye, but I can’t forget about all the other stuff I was thinking about earlier. Either she is someone who has such political pull with the royal family that she can gobble me up right out the gate, or someone put her up to this.

Sadly, this serious train of though was somewhat hard to hold as my mind wandered to her gobbling me up….

“I was curious to see how alert you are to mana signatures in your immediate area,” She gave a sheepish smile. “Perhaps it was a bit cruel to pull such a stunt on our first meeting. Though I can’t promise not to do something underhanded like that again.”

I didn't respond, though I could feel heat rising to my cheeks.

Her hand clapped my shoulder. “Still, you've done better than most.” She congratulated me. “Clearly a good sign to the beginning of a wonderful mentorship!”

Her sizable chest was nearly pushing into my face.

“I...um,” I stutter my words. I tried to ask something that didn't make me sound like a flush schoolgirl (even though I technically was). “So, in your letter, it said that you came from Dalaran-”

Before I could even finish my inquiry, I felt her fingers pinch my check.

What….

“Oh, my! You’re just so cute!” She smiled and giggled at my reactions to this…contact. Less in the tone of voice of some suave seductress, and more of a cheery grandmother who is seeing something she finds adorable.

She did eventually let go after a handful of tugs. I rubbed the affected cheek.
“Sorry dear, you just look so cute and remind me of my one of my daughter’s when she was your age,” she apologized. “And to answer your question: yes I do hail from Dalaran, thank you for asking.”

I stood there dumbfounded at what the hell just happened; silently glad that the rosy redness of her pinch hid the heat that was flowing to my cheeks still at her…provocative attire.

“But enough of this boring stuff,” she pulled me along as she moved towards the front door. “Let’s get inside and have ourselves a bit of a talk. Just to get to know one another better.”

“But-”

“I hope you don’t mind the smell of drying paint,” she continued, cutting me off. “I had to start renovating the grounds without the help of the girls. You know, to get some one-on-one time with my cute new apprentice.”

The door opened on its own, and I was ushered past the threshold.

The area just beyond the door looked less like a home and more of an establishment. A large counter and desk laid out before a massive stairwell with two other doorways leading in opposing directions. Velvet red drapes and cloth hung from the doorways and windows. True to her word, the whole place smelled of paint. Tarps and sheets laid sprawled across the floor and covered furniture like chairs and lamps.

It looks like a reception area for a hotel.

“Wait girls?” I finally registered what she said.

“Oh don’t worry about them! They’re just some girls I’m in the middle of training,” she happily explained. “Not in the sense of your type training; they have their own, different, curriculum to work with. Though I suppose they did learn all the stuff you are learning a few decades ago. But enough of them! Today you have my undivided attention!”

She pushed me past the desks and up the stairs. I heard the door close of its own accord as we walked.

All the while enchanted paint brushes and buckets of a dizzying number of sizes hovered about. The brushes dipping into various colored buckets and smearing a fresh paint onto clearly worn walls and the ceiling. I flinched as a glob of wet, gold, paint splashed down in front of me.

“Like I said, watch the paint!”

We moved from staircase to staircase, ascending to the top floor of the building.

“What is this place?” I had to ask.

“Some place I got on the cheap.” She explained as if that was all that needed to be said. I watched as a drop of paint bound for her skimpy dress was defected by some kind of barrier. It splashed on contact, but her frame was unmarred by paint.

“This is cheap?” I gestured around, particularly to a crystal chandelier being hoisted into place by arcane energies and cleaned by enchanted cloths.

Siristra giggled, “it only cost about ten thousand gold. So yes, on the cheap! And when I got here it was in ruins: the windows were all smashed. The grass overgrown. Weeds everywhere. The pools held only water contaminated by green ichor. The greenhouse was covered in dead plants. And that is only the outside. Inside everything that could be wrong was!”

As we ascended, I caught glimpses of what laid in the hallways of each floor we passed.

Portraits of nudes or sex were everywhere. Some were man-on-women. Others woman-on-woman. And yet others still were more debauched and hedonistic. Rape. Slavery. Bestiality. Sea monsters even!

Additionally, there were life sized nude statues. They were beautifully detailed, right down to a small indent where the vagina would be along with a clitoris above it. No color though. These were just smooth marble statues. The stances they were in were quite explicit; to say nothing of how said stances emphasized the sizable assets on display.

“The wood had rotted away. The floors had holes in them. Wallpaper had long peeled off. What little furniture there was here was old and hideous from exposure to the elements. Oh, and let's not forget all the wild animals had made their home here! Rats. Bats. Spiders! An entire pack of wolves on the first floor! And that is just this building. I’ll spare you the details of what I found in the residential building.”

When we reached the end of the last stairwell, we were greeted by a large set of doors. The stench of paint slowly faded as we entered the far room.

“If I had bought this property when it looked like it does right now, then I’d probably pay something along the lines of one hundred to one hundred and fifty thousand gold. So, I think that it was cheap for the price I paid.”

We entered the room, and I was taken aback by its size. It was large! Maybe as large as my entire home in terms of floor space. A set of comfortable sofas and reclining chairs off to the side, a fireplace, and a massive bed that dominated the far end of the room. There was a doorway, covered in silk that hung from the empty door frame, that went off into another room.

However, two other things caught my eye.

The first was an entire wall of tinted glass. Walking over to it, I looked out to see that it was a window to a lower level, probably the ground floor. I saw a collection of elevated stages with gilded poles in the center of them. Large square sheets of tarp laid across them; polka dotted by various shades of red and gold paint that seemingly dripped from the ceiling.

The other thing that really got my attention was a massive mural at the far end of the room, hung just above the bed. A mosaic of different colored stones and precious gems. All slotted together like a collage to make an image. It depicted a great red dragon breathing fire on a field of flowers. Below the dragon were nude women, dancing along the flames and flowers.

This is all somewhat more...explicit than I thought it would be.

“Ah but enough about boring stuff,” Siritra broke me out of my thoughts, motioning over to the sofas. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She proceeded through the silken doorway.

Minutes passed as I snuggled into my overly cushy seat while trying to process what the hell kind of place I walked into. A part of me knew what it was of course. I’ve seen the inside of Mom’s place of employment, when she would drop me off before classes years ago, to tell what a whorehouse was from looks alone.

Of course that begs the question. Why did my mentor own a whore house? A very high class one if the sheer wealth on display was anything to go by, but a brothel nonetheless.

Actually, no. I have a better question. How does someone like her manage to get the clout to have a member of the royal family intercede on her behalf!

She’s a powerful mage. There is no denying that. All the enchanted items at work. All the magic that seemed to billow around her every step, that takes a lot of training and skill to pull off. But again, that makes me wonder who she is and why she….

“Sorry about that, just wanted get a bit more comfortable.”

My head turned to see her walk back into the room; and all I could do was stare.

Her idea of “more comfortable” was to completely strip of out her clothes. Her breasts were...generous in size, and I could clearly see she shaved her lower reaches. She said nothing at my shameless gawking of her figure, merely smiling as she saw me move my mouth like a fish on land.

She walked over and plopped down on the couch opposite to where I was sitting; wine bottle and a pair of glasses in hand.

“So, how about we get to know one another!”

----
----

When Siristra said she wanted to talk, I thought it was going to be more about magic related stuff, academics, hell, even just a get to know you type of talk.

“-so you know what I found? Guess? The very same bitch bouncing on his cock! ‘It’s just a one time thing’ he told me. I’ll admit, I was annoyed. Not that he was sleeping with her, but that he had the audacity to lie to my face about it...”

I assumed that the stuff would be about what life was like in Dalaran compared to Silvermoon. Or asking how my home life was.

“- told him not to, but the father came in anyway! The girl’s tonguing my cunt for dear life. Her face covered in my juices. So, what does this ‘pious’ and ‘honorable’ priest do when he sees his girl? He gets hard and starts plowing the girl from behind! So much for that ‘decency’ he hemmed and hawed about.”

For the past hour and a half, after respectfully refusing the wine offered me, she’s talked to me about everything in her life.

Everything.

“-and I’ll be honest, I didn't get why the girls were fawning over Malcom. I mean sure, he looked like a strapping young man. Not the bulging with muscles kind, but the athletic lean sort of fellow. He also had a better than average head on his shoulders. Basically, the dependable sort. Someone you could rely on to support a family. The only mark I could make to this perfect husband was that he finished after three times. Three! How can you call a man a stallion of if he goes limp after a measly three times! Now that didn’t make him any less reliable or dependable, but-”

This was very much outside of my wheelhouse.

“- so I was stuck in that dungeon for six weeks. Six! The Baron just kept rotating men in and out so that I was almost always getting fucked one way or another. They didn’t even feed me. ‘You’re on a liquid diet now whore’ they told me. Now, this isn't to say I dislike this sort of treatment. I will be the first to admit I play the ‘damsel in distress’ act with brigands every now and then when I’m in the mood for it; just to spice things up every once and a while. But this was a time was a matter of pride since they actually did get the jump on me. So for all my enjoyment of their treatment, the moment I got my strength back I burned the entire hold down. Freed the other girls trapped there before I did that of course-“

This was the uber powerful mage I had wondered about hours ago? The mage who not only singled me out by name, but had enough clout to get the royals to intervene on her behalf? The image in my head was that of some ancient sage with eons of experience under their belt. Some scholarly type. Maybe even the seductress I saw when I arrived. Not...

“-and then they left! No letter! No note! Nothing! My babies left without saying a word! They just got up and left the nest! I was billowing fire, literally!”

..this.

“Why me?” I groaned to myself as she went on about her kids.

I only noticed something was off when silence filled the room, as opposed to her semi coherent ramblings.

“I assumed that question would be at the top of the list.” Siristra hummed, finally stopping her long winded story about ‘fucking’ this, ‘being fucked’ by that, or a tirade about how her ‘babies flew out of the nest'. She sat up, no longer reclined. “Truth be told, I came here at the behest of my Mistress.”

“Who is,” I led her on, even more curious now.

“A very powerful woman,” Everflight remained elusive.

“Who is,” I repeated my question.

She smiled, “a very powerful woman,” she repeated in turn. “A woman who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being.”

“Okay then,” seeing how I wasn’t getting anywhere, I changed my question. “Why did your mistress want you to train me?”

“Now that, I am allowed to answer a bit more succinctly,” Siristra took a quick sip of her wine before answering. “My Mistresses’ lover saw your performance during your examinations and relayed his observations to her. They both agreed that you showed great promise and so I was sent to teach you.”

“And he was?”

“A mage from Dalaran,” another vague response.

“Why are you even letting me ask you questions if you’re going to be so vague about everything?” It was a genuine gripe I was starting to have with her.

“Not my fault you’re asking the very narrow range of topics that I have been asked to refrain from expanding upon,” she refilled her glass. “You can ask me just about anything, and I’ll give you plain truth of it all. Remember that I was just telling you about the time I took thick merlock cock up my ass for a whole week-”

“I get it,” I cut off her recounting of that tale. “I get it, some things are just off limits for now.”

“Quite the prude I see,” she laughed at my reaction and squirming. “Aren’t kids your age suppose to be open minded or something? Learning about their bodies and the like?”

“I am not prudish,” all the stuff I’ve fantasized about when I masturbate prove otherwise, “you’re just a nymphomaniac!”

“I won’t argue with that,” Siristra laughed off my label. “Though I prefer the term courtesan or handmaiden.”

“Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying prostitute,” I didn’t even realize what I had said before I finished.

“Prostitute?” She raised an eyebrow, not sounding annoyed in the slightest from my comment. “Sweetie, I’m more than just some back alley-Sally who shakes her hips for a dozen coppers. There’s more to a courtesan than just sex. There’s learning how to engage in conversation, how to gossip, learning formal and informal tells, keeping up a mask of serene calmness even in the harshest of situations, and a dozen other things that can mean the difference between life and death in some circles.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration,” I quipped. And besides,

“Actually, I’d wager my unique set of skills are more applicable to yourself then you seem to think they are,” she hummed to herself before continuing.

“But I don’t really have any desire to go into kind of stuff,” I pointed out.

At my comment, Siristra blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“I said, I have no interest in a any of that political stuff.” Sure, this is a mageocracy, and all mages can rise through the ranks of government, but that really isn’t what I want to do. All I plan to do is learn as much as I can to survive when The Scourge comes barreling into Silvermoon.

She stared at me, almost a minor sense of disbelief on her face as she rubbed her temples and sighed. “Dear, tell me what the name of the academy are you going to is?”

“What?”

“This isn’t a trick question,” Siristra rolled her eyes at my expression. “It’ll all make sense in a minute; just tell me what is the name of the Academy you are going to.”

“Dath’Remar”, I played along, curious to see where this was going.

“And what are you learning at Dath’Remar?” She pressed on.

“To be a mage.” The way she was asking her questions made me wonder what the point of all this was.

Siristra had this look in her eyes from my reply, “just a mage?”

“Um…I guess they-we become high ranking mages…?” Oh I could already tell there was something I was missing.

She chuckled a bit at my response. “Yes, they become ‘high ranking mages’ in the same way the king lives in a ‘big house’. Technically correct, but vastly understating the magnitude of what it is.”

Finishing up her glass, she placed it down and looked me right in the eyes.

“Syllia, Dath’Remar Academy does not train mages. It never has, and most likely never will. The Academy train Magisters,” Siristra emphasized the last part. “The two professions overlap in skills, but one is a wholly different beast from the other.”

The implications of what she meant slowly sunk in.

“When you graduate,” she went on, “you will, immediately, achieve the rank of arcanist for no other reason than simply graduating from Dath’Remar. Oh, the document you get will say it in prettier words, but a clerk in the Convocation will see you were a Dath’Remar graduate and simply stamped the approval without a glance at your actual capabilities. Some months later, no more than five from what I’ve seen, you will be given a position of moderate authority. Think garrison commander of a small city, a provincial governor's attaché, or even a clerk in the halls of the Convocation itself.”

But I don’t-

“Then, some years after that, as you have settled into your new, comfortable position, you will be invited to your first gala. Of course, that is an overestimation on my part. Graduates with friends get invited to these high society parties right out the gate but I’ve never heard of a graduate waiting more than a decade for their first high society invitation.”

I never really thought of the school like that. It’s just school, to put so much stock in someone just because they graduated from a specific place…

“By the time you’re one-hundred, you’ll ascended to the rank of senior arcanist and be working under the auspices of a senior magister at court. Once more, because you are a graduate of Dath’Remar. At court, you will rub shoulders with some of the most powerful people in the Kingdom and interact with the highest circles of society.”

‘Most high elves will be dead in ten years,’ I bit my lips to not share that bit of foreknowledge even as I felt light headed over what I was being told.

“Finally, at four-hundred, you will be granted the honor of ascending to the rank of a proper magister and be asked by the senior magisters to take a seat in the Convocation to help lead the Kingdom towards a brighter future.”

I was silent as I mulled over the information. Four hundred years…

“Syllia,” Siristra broke me out of my thoughts, “do you know how long it normally takes for someone to go from initiate to magister?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

“A trick question, lowborn mages will never reach a rank higher than senior arcanist,” she explained. “And even for high born mages, it usually takes centuries to reach the rank of magister; sometimes more than a millennia. But for you, a Dath’Remar graduate? Four hundred years at most. With your innate skill and power, I’d wage three hundred years before becoming a proper Magistrix.”

But why would a bunch of snobbish, rich classists, give a poor commoner a literal golden ticket to into their club? It makes no sense. Just like how Verana can talk about how she thinks to someone like-

And like that, a lightbulb flickered to life in my head.

I rattled off all the names of the students I knew in class, the people I brushed shoulders with daily. Sat next to them, trained with them, even occasionally talked with them.

‘Greatstar. Goldfire. Brightsun. Redburn….. they’re all noble families.’

My mind wandered to the two people I was closest to at the Academy.

‘Elsia Emberbirth, sister to a Senior Magister. Verana Coldwater, heir to a noble family and daughter of Senior Magisters.’

They’re also both nobles.

Everyone I have interacted in with at the Academy is a noble and they….

And they assume I’m a noble as well.

“I know it might seem like a lot to take in,” Siristra’s voice broke me from my thoughts; the expression on my face must have clued her into my revelation. “But one day you will be one of the most powerful individuals in the kingdom; either magically from talent or politically from the nepotism the magisters show all Dath’Remar graduates.”

“But I’m not a noble,” I whispered to myself.

“Does that matter?” Siristra questioned. “What people believe is fact is entirely in the eye of the beholder. To them, or at least your peers, you are a noble. Therefore, you are a noble. But because you didn’t grow up in that environment, you are at a distinct disadvantage. I have no doubt you are going to have moments where you want to punch some snot nosed blue blood kid in the face for what they say. Speaking from personal experience, while it can be very cathartic, it will lead to issues in the future.”

“Wait, you mean to say you’ve beaten a child?” I think I was hung up on the wrong part of her point.

“Look, if you’re in the guise of a child yourself when you’re trying to smack some sense into one of those pint-sized brats it’s not as bad as an adult doing it,” she defended herself, responding a little too quickly for my liking.

“Wait, what do you mean the guise of-“

“Let us not get caught up in past. Point is, you probably have no experience in the intricacies of court. Things that are expected to be learned at home. Given you are not a noble with an etiquette tutor, you are at a disadvantage.”

“But you can help me with that?”

“Of course!” Siristra sat up straight on her couch. “I’m not just a pretty face after all. Not only am I a expert mage, but I have been mingling with high society for longer than some kingdoms have existed. Nearly all my pupils have risen to positions of respect and prominence in their respective communities. And I shall do my best to impart such knowledge onto you.”

“Under the orders of a woman you can’t tell me about, who was told about me by a man you also won’t tell me about,” I sighed.

“I understand how it might sound, but I can assure you my Mistress has nothing but good intentions,” Siristra waived off my concerns. “Rest assured, when the time is right, she will reveal all and I will apologize for the deception. But until then, just have a little trust.”

“Then what’s the point of it all?”

“The point is to say the ‘correct’ things,” she smiled. “If you use words or logic that the nobility doesn’t agree with, you will get nowhere. But if you play by their script, all sorts of doors open up.”

“Fine,” I dropped it, seeing as I wasn’t going to get anywhere on that issue. “Changing the topic, I get you’re a powerful mage but what would that courtesan stuff entail exactly?”

“Oh my,” she placed her hand by her mouth, it did nothing to hide the sly smile on her lips. “How bold of you! You accuse me of being promiscuous yet lead with something like that seeing how you want to ravish me already.”

“What! No!” I quickly tried to stop her from making assumptions. “I meant about the gossip and word play stuff not the sex stuff.”

“’Sex stuff’! Even now you mind is dead set on ravishing me. And during our first meeting? Perhaps I misjudged you. Less a prude a more a nymph in constant heat wishing to gratify herself!”

-----
-----

The meeting at that point descended into lighthearted bantering with me trying to fight off Siristra’s teasing. I would say one thing, and she would twist it into something beyond dirty. Though, with her nude form laying before me, chest swaying with every laugh and exaggerated motion, I could hardly claim I wasn’t getting aroused by her antics.

When the teasing died down, she clarified that no, she would not be teaching me how to sexually gratify people and would focus solely on the social aspects of speechcraft and etiquette. The explanation could have done without her winking at the end and saying “until you want to” but by that point I was too tired of her antics to raise much a fuss.

By the time everything was said and done, with a schedule worked out, the sun was already setting. While I feel like it was a highly productive meeting, I couldn’t help but feel I had forgotten to ask her something that was on my mind…

Ah well. If it’s important, I’m sure I’ll remember soon enough.