The Shadow and The Huntress

The warmth of spring demanded to be noticed and it was in that spirit that Faelyn had opened his windows and study door to allow the gentle breeze to slip through his little section of the repository, a small sliver of happiness that he allowed himself as he worked. Though where there once would have been flowers decorating his desk, gifts from his husbands meant to brighten up his work space. Such days were long gone, such joy almost forgotten save for the small scraps that he desperately clung to in his overwhelming grief. 

They were not the only parts of the past that Faelyn held to. 

Snapping closed the tome that he had been correcting, it was time that this one be returned to it's place on the numerous shelves, another pulled from his endless to-do list that would need to be seen to. At least there was no shortage of work to keep him busy while his days and weeks stretched into years with no news of Cian. 

Brushing back a strand of auburn hair from his face where it was become dislodged from his long braid, tucking it back behind his ear, leaving both scars and golden vines plain to be seen as he stepped out of his study. While it was not uncommon to see others in the Repository at large, this was a place of leaning after all, his little part of the archives was often quieter, and so there was mild interest on his otherwise reserved face as gray eyes turned on the young white haired one. Do you require assistance? came his quiet, steady voice in the common tongue he had grown accustomed to using. The gilded ancient hardly looked his age, they so rarely did, but there was something distinct about this one that marked him for exactly what he was.