Beneath Quiet Skies
Just as Victor sat deep in conversation with the trio running Fantom City's shadows, Clara closed the last folder Isabella needed. Home seemed like the right move now. She stood, slipped on her coat, then walked out into the evening air.
Empty now, the guild hall held only dimming light. Papers sat in tidy piles - Clara made sure of that. Over the chair she slumped, Isabella, her deep violet hair spilling across the shadowed cloth of her outfit, tired eyes barely open.
"You know," Isabella said lazily, tapping the final sealed document with a slender finger, "if you ever decide to abandon me, I might actually drown in parchment."
Up went Clara, spine aligned, tugging at glove edges. Down her back ran golden strands, neat as a drawn line. Light from above - gentle, dim - washed her gaze pale, turning purple into something close to moonlight.
"I won't abandon you," Clara replied calmly. "At least not without training your replacement properly."
