"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep." - Scott Adams
She'd been on the plane for so long - too long in fact. Her shoes were abandoned on the ground and her overcoat was rolled up in the seat next to her to be used as a pillow. She leaned forward, eyes roving over the landscape, searching for the familiar sight, the one thing she needed to see. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath all this time.
"She wrote the year on this?" "She was very clear about the date. I believe the hour is located below that." "Why would she ever do such a thing?" I shrugged. "Mi'lady said it was to be delivered at a different date." She turn the scroll in her hand, seeing the address it be sent to. Underneath the wax seal were inscribed five words: "Deliver in three centuries hence."
"Is it revenge you want?" The image of a dagger floated in the air, shimmering in the sorcerer's obsidian eyes. "Is it death you crave?" His voice was a haunting rasp, a coy whisper. "It is yours..." The dagger floated to my hand, became opaque and sharp. It halted before it touched my fingers. "But there is a price."
She was nervous. That much I could tell from the way her left hand kept tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear. Her right arm was half hugging her body, as if shielding herself. I didn't need to ask her what she was scared of, I'd noticed the blade in the butler's glove the moment he took my coat. Now it was only a matter of time before I made my move, or he made his. "Two sugars, please," I said with a smile.