Siriin herself hurried to her workbench, scrabbling# about in the darkness for the language tome. The book was in a locked drawer, safe inside the watertight box Evangeline had borrowed her alongside the book. Looking up, she could see that the light was still lit in the office window. The night was yet young, but Siriin still felt a sense of urgency. Holding the box in her arms, she knocked on the closed-door of the office.
A moment of silence. “Enter.”
The door was not locked. 2 candles were lit on the large oak table, and the commander was writing on a piece of parchment.
“Ah, Siriin.” She looked a little tense. “I thought you would be talking to the other sylvari, just like all of my bloody soldiers.”
Siriin could not remember any recent battles. “Bloody? Last I saw them, everyone seemed perfectly safe.”
“Ah, apologies. It’s a figure of speech.” Evangeline sighed, putting away her writing tools. “I hope you will forgive me, I am simply a little flustered.”
She closed the door behind her, shutting out the sounds of the garrison. “Why, if I might ask?”
The commander got up from her chair and turned around, looking at the painting of her father. “I just remembered that I have not sent my parents a single letter in all my time here at the garrison, and now I am sending a letter to the capital that is not for them.” Evangeline chuckled slightly. “Father is going to be greatly annoyed.”
The office was silent for a moment, then Evangeline turned back and sat down. “But enough about me. You came to me, so I assume you had something to say?”