Who: Desiderio, Constans, Ashya Where: Circle Tower, Desi's room When: Very shortly before they're due to leave Kinloch Hold Summary: Desi is packing like a girl. Constans is punctual. These facts are at odds. Rating: G. At worst, Desi will run his mouth a little.
He wasn't a pack rat. Quite frankly, he didn't own enough of anything to be a pack rat even if he wanted to, yet here he was, wondering if he wanted to bring along a second pen just in case the first broke. If he thought about it, and he had already thought about it plenty, he'd realize that if he ever needed a pen, he could ask Beth, and if Beth let him down with her ability to pull pens out of thin air, there'd be someone else in their entourage, surely. But what if everyone else had thought the same? What if the pen were mightier than the sword? Then what?
His bag laid open on the floor. All things considered, he was done packing. There wasn't much more he needed besides, obviously, a spare pen.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice desperately clawed at Desi's consciousness, trying to relay that the time to leave was rapidly approaching the time of now. Instead, it occurred to Desi that he hadn't packed any books, not that he really should bring large stacks of paper for a road trip, but there were some things he didn't like parting with in the slightest.
He left the pen on the desk, where he assumed it would stay as a welcoming gift for the next apprentice to take his room, or perhaps they'd leave his quarters empty for him when he returned. Somehow he doubted anyone at the Tower thought he'd return except possibly by swordpoint. Even then, he doubted anyone would bother bringing him back by swordpoint. More likely, he'd return with his head on a platter if he got a little careless with the templars traveling with the mages. Of course, if his fellow mages disapproved, he'd return in a small, leak-proof box if he returned at all.
Desi kept a bookshelf stocked with various treatises, records, and a copy of Chantric prayers. It gathered an awful lot of dust.
Under the floorboards, a notebook laid hidden, but it wasn't anything more than a collection of old gossip and his opinions of certain girls from years ago. It was pretty dusty too. But from under the loose stonework it rested on, Desi dug up a leather-bound diary. It wasn't exactly his, but it certainly wasn't his brother's anymore either.
There was a knock on his door, and it caught him by surprise. "What do you want?" he demanded to cover the noise as he pressed the floorboard back into place. He dropped both the books into his bag. He'd need to toss his old notebook into a fire sometime on his way out--it'd be a little too embarrassing if it were found.
Desi closely avoided tripping over his bag as he went to answer the door. "What's so goddamned important--Good morning," he said to his brother. Desi glanced out the window, and his subconscious claimed victory when he realized what time it was as the sun filtered across the sky. "I'm not late. Yet."