Titus' workshop was currently empty, bar for one man working away silently. He sat beside a small, ancient oil lamp that looked like a genie was ready to spring out of it, as he was hunched over and focused on the work that was illuminated by the pale blue light the lamp's flame produced.
Despite the flames existence, it made no noise almost as if it was just an illusion, while the man in question was completely silent himself from his concentration. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from across the room. Well... almost a pin.
Ting ting Tiing!
"God dammit!" Seth cursed to himself as he tossed another sewing needle onto the floor, listening to its melodic tune as it bounced across the ground to join its brethren in his discard pile.
