The block was pristine. No other word could describe it. Tasha approached it with such care that one looking upon the event would suspect some sort of trap that the story-teller was wary of springing. But no, it was mere awe that kept the woman's feet bound to the earth, moving only the slightest with each passing moment.
Painted on the side facing Tasha was a quill hovering over a scroll yellowed with age. The pen, however, took no heed to the fragility of the paper, looking poised to etch its words into existence with an almost frantic fervor. But not now... the picture only showed it preparing, never doing. It bothered Tasha, for she much preferred doing...
"Miss Noble! Wake up! It's past lunch!" Eyes were jolted open at the harsh voice, and blinding light flooded into Tasha's very soul. She shut her eyes and moaned wordlessly. "Get up, Tasha!"
Before she knew what was happening, the woman found herself hoisted onto what felt rather... warm, and perhaps comforting... "Snowbeast! Away, if it will wake the woman up!"
Tasha's eyes jerked open, as her drunkenly exhausted mind had finally connected a face to the voice. Almost instinctively she reached forwards to grasp the reins, and pulled back with all of the might she could muster so early in the morning. Pulling her torso upwards, she turned backwards as Snowbeast's trotting came to a halt. "Dys! My, what are you doing here?!"
"Waking you up..." grumbled the young man, mimicking the wiping of sweat from his brow. "You've no idea how hard it is. What were you doing last night?!"
"I was plotting," replied Tasha curtly, "And you haven't answered my question."
Dys smiled, laughing gleefully. "Why, Miss Noble, did you not expect the land's greatest quillsmith to be summoned to the capital city? I've been commissioned to create a pen for the Featured."
A pen... Tasha recalled her dream. She didn't have time to be plodding down memory lane, she had to make that fantasy a reality! And to think, he's got it right now... "I'm sorry, Dys, but I really must leave. Take ca--"
Another hand took ahold of Snowbeast's reins, causing him to whinny anxiously, reflecting Tasha's need to leave. Dys's face turned serious, and he looked at Tasha with what could be defined as either anger or concern. "You don't honestly expect to get away with it, do you, Miss Noble?"
"What business is it of yours?" retorted Tasha, "You may tell the priestesses if you like--why, you may tell the Featured, even Sir Olius himself!--but nothing you can say will stop me. We need that block. Now, come on, Snowbeast. We should be going."
Snowbeast pulled away from Dys's hand at Tasha's urging, and after a moment of contemplating the quillsmith let go, allowing the horse-creature to follow its master. "Ah well. She can't say I didn't warn her..."