[Adrasteius finds himself in fairly regular need of pens and paper--he's already filled one journal since arriving in Exsilium, and he's in the market for another. He's frowning at the thin selection when, ears twitching, he notices the boy struggling to get at a box of pencils.
Adrasteius doesn't have much reach, himself, but he does have magic. With a little sigh, he walks over to the boy, glances from him to the shelf, and then animates the pencils to come down of their own accord.]
no subject
Adrasteius doesn't have much reach, himself, but he does have magic. With a little sigh, he walks over to the boy, glances from him to the shelf, and then animates the pencils to come down of their own accord.]
There you are, son.