Timestamp: 24th of Summer AV 513; late evening
Malvora was frustrated.
No, that was understating it. Malvora was to the rip your hair out by it's roots and throw things around the room point of frustration. Which, considering the fact that she was half-Zith and prone to fits of rage and destruction, was probably not the best point for her to be. In fact, that was far from the point of safety.
Perhaps she should quit.
She glared at the perfectly scribed rune on the page of her book, pulled out another piece of parchment and began to delicately copy it. Within moments, she had another smudged scribbe of nothing on her paper. This was not the rune of Focus, this was a poor attempt at drawing it. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Perhaps she should take up meditation. Or perhaps she should go throw herself off a cliff. Either way, she would feel better than she did now.
"Petching rune," she swore under her breath, an oddity for the composed mixed blood. She rarely allowed swearing or fits of rage to mar her otherwise fairly calm demeanor. She was aware of her curse, the raging Zith that lurked beneath the surface, but she usually managed to keep that under control in the guise of being a harmless young girl with a few odd features. If she allowed her other side out she was likely to be hunted until she was killed. So she took a deep breath, forced clarity into her mind and began again.