Ignareth closed the door to his chambers and leaned against it for a moment, eyes shut.
He could still feel the faint warmth of Kaerth's hand in his, the hesitant grip of someone who didn't quite trust him but also didn't pull away. That hesitation fascinated him.
Crossing to his desk, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write, but halfway through the first line he stopped. The ink bled slightly where the quill hovered, his mind wandering.
Wind and Illusion… and yet he doesn't even realize what he could be.
A smirk curved Ignareth's lips as he set the quill down. There were political advantages to binding Kaerth to him, yes — but that wasn't the whole truth.
Part of him simply wanted to see how Kaerth would look if he ever stopped holding himself back.
And Ignareth had every intention of being the one to make that happen.
—
