The Pale Tale
"Does it dry?" I looked up from the vellum, my neck stiff and aching from the hours hunched over the desk, and saw Brother Thomas standing in the doorway of the scriptorium, his face pale and drawn in the flickering candlelight. I did not answer immediately because I was trying to wipe the excess ink from my thumb with a rag that had already turned grey with the substance, and the ink was not...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews