A Tired Old Hand

[V0idsoldier 1139]

A thousand wrinkles riddled the man's face, his gaze a near squint under the weight of tissue. His breath so smooth it was only but a whisper against the candles steady burn, and his hand met the paper with a quiver. Yet words still flowed, as well and as smooth as even the youngest of writers. He lifts his eye from the books, and peer yonder towards the now open door reaching ever so slowly for his snow white beard, laced with brown specks. Is it a trace of his past, or perhaps simply dirt? A contemplation crosses the mans weary mind before he speaks.

 

"May I help you?"

 

His voice alone grants the passerby a hint into the wisdom contained within the mans aged mind, a voice as smooth as silk and as calm as the eye of a storm. Four simple words combined in such a melody that they sounded benign. T'was a man unknown to most, yet respected by those whom found him, a man whom contained a library of knowledge in his head. A traveling writer across the lands filled with insanity.

 

((Unable to play right now, but still wanting my fix. A small roleplay scenario that extends to ooc. To anyone wanting to roleplay out their characters writings, or to anyone needing writing done for basically anything, I am available.))

 

 

[Huh 91]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.