Camille

Diplomat/Bookbinder
Straight-laced/Reserved/Perfectionist


"Rules keep one safe, sometimes in unexpected ways."

The runes are written on calfskin vellum, yellow as new cream and soft as the inside of a heart. Camille runs the pads of her fingers over the faded ink, writing her translation notes in the margins with a fine hand. Her shadow stretches across the floor, petalled through the light of stained glass.

Language is elegant yet predictable in its movements, mouthless and many-voiced, and Camille must admit she prefers her translations to the company of dragons. But still, dragons have rules that they abide by too, the way a smile is slanted and the way to hold one’s wings to make your words seem truthful and all the delicate intricacies of courts and clans.

She finds them pleasant, the formal state dinners and the ins and outs of trade deals- and yet when she returns home there is a weary hollowness resting in her ribs. While off-duty, she speaks little and reveals less, and she spends her nights with the tomes in the library until dawn floods the sky with honey-sweetened light.

_{Written by Alnilam}