Death's End IC II

[Ajadea]

Calia frowns and pats down her bag almost expectantly. "Does anyone have any ink, or charcoal or something. I have a fr-" but she doesn't. Lirian isn't here, she's with Pro-Mi- Sylvia Inkweaver, and they can't go near her, not for the next three days. "...someone might know something about that symbol," she finishes lamely. She opens her hand, clenches it, opens it again. The emptiness rubs against her skin and the back of her neck prickles. She is not alone, of course not. But the eyes on her back are not the right ones, not ones she dares trust, not ones she dares to believe trust her. Her hand is still empty. Of course it is.