"....." Robin kept his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly upward.
It had been a long, stretched-out period since he assigned Jabba and Shaddad the task of completing the remaining components of the ink—so long that he could no longer tell how much time exactly had passed. The moment he handed the mission over to them, he simply lay back in comfort, holding several soul emeralds in his hand. Each time one vanished into dust, another immediately materialized in its place.
The Eternal Quill, Seraphim… it was an artifact wrapped in layers of unfathomable mystery, not only in how it was meant to be used, but in how it consumed energy as well.
The quill behaved as if it possessed a consciousness of its own, a peculiar awareness that guided its reactions.
