Thread:YingHe/@comment-36159587-20190602041941/@comment-36159587-20190603225756

 The room was...lacking in a source of light. All the curtains were drawn, all the windows shut.

 Near the only beam of light that was moving along paper along with a calligraphic brush, wherever it moved, was a young man, who was possibly a bit younger than Hitan's oldest physical form, perhaps a bit older. He set it down carefully, then stood up to face the two.