For Arctelle's whole life, he had never once experienced being made to wait.
From the moment his talents revealed themselves, doors had always opened before he could even knock. He was praised as a prodigy, spoken of in reverent tones, and regarded as someone destined for a future far brighter than those of his peers.
His presence was acknowledged and anticipated. He's never ignored. Time, it seemed, had always bent to accommodate him.
Yet now, hours passed in heavy silence with each one stretching longer than the last, and Arctelle could do nothing but wait. It was a quiet humiliation, subtle yet unmistakable and its gnawing at him with every passing moment.
Somewhere along the way, everything had shifted.
His life, once orderly and predictable, had been overturned so thoroughly that he could scarcely recognize it anymore and at the center of that predicament stood Soren or at least, that was the conclusion Arctelle had come to.
