Closer Then You Think.

Chroylthem.
Sounds like an element, right?
Or a highly flammable substance.
But trust me, it's not, and never will be.
It is a species, a species so hidden, and un-none, that not even Eve Heartly herself, knows what it is.
And she is one.

Fantasy.

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4. Chapter 4

Eve spent the rest of the evening filling in the documents courtsey of Edmund and the Chroythemic Council.

But there we go.

Eve began to develop such a pain in her right hand that she almost stopped, but luckily, her mom called her for dinner before she had no reason to stop. She dropped the pen on the desk, capping on the lid before the ink soaked through her carefully printed papers, and skipped down the stairs into their roomy diningroom.

Her mom was already at the table, and a bowl of Pesto Pasta steaming hot and smelling absolutly delicious, lay on the placemat in her usual place. She took a seat at the table, and dug into her dinner.

There was no conversation between them both, and it left Eve in empty wonder, because, this was typical behaviour from her mom.

Eve finished quickly, washed and dried her bowl in the sink, and reached high into the cupboard to put it away. After this, she headed back upstairs to finish her almost completed papers.

After 20 more minuets, Eve finished, and straightened her papers, and piled them into a brown envelope.

She paused.

Should she risk flying all the way to the Oak? Or wait until tomorrow?

This was a weak dilemma, because, well, Day Or Night? Get it Over, Or Leave It For Another Day?

Eve decided to get it over with, and flew out of the window before she could change her mind. Her hair hit her in the face as she flew through the bitter wind, and her wings flapped furiously as she weaved in and out of buildings, until she reached The Oak.

 

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