Shiiiiiink. Shiiiiiiiiink. Shiiink.
Staring into the night sky, Saphirus ran the rock down the side of his sword tirelessly. While his newest mission was not meant to end in an assassination, he knew a sharp sword was always useful.
Persuade the young writer to continue with her work, he recalled. The message had come from Her, and while he was not required to follow Her every instruction, this assignment intrigued him. It was not dangerous, and yet it required a certain skill to accomplish.
Saphirus grinned slightly, eyes covered by the black cowl of his cloak. It is time, he thought. Standing slowly, he walked toward the house, his leather boots crunching softly on the gravel. Prying open the nearby window, he crawled into the room.
A young woman was staring furiously at her computer. A word processor was up, but no words had been typed yet. Hearing the soft squeak of a board behind her, she broke from her concentration and turned around. "Tov...?"
"I am afraid I do not possess such impish abilities," Saphirus replied, hand on the hilt of his sword.
The writer gasped. "You're... you're Saphirus! Oh no, Crysi was serious, then..."
"Not as serious as I am," he answered. "You know why I am here."
"Yes, but... She wants me to share Tov with the world. He refuses to stay on paper, though..."
"Then you, as the author, must convince him to stay."
"Has Crysi done that with you?"
Saphirus snorted. "Not really. I do it for my own good."
The young woman thought about this briefly. "So if I convince Tov it's for his own good..."
"...You might get somewhere with that," the man finished.
Tapping her finger against her lips, the writer turned back to her computer. Hesitantly, she began to type.
Saphirus leaned against the wall, watching her carefully. She will type... and I will wait.
