Sitting at a desk in a small cabin-esque room, Dylan Peak had opened up both of his journey books. He was familiar with the clairvoyant nature of these magic items. They were used to communicate with people from far away distances. The man he had robbed had not just one of these, but two. He must have been quite friendly with people as well as quite powerful and wealthy. These magic items were nothing to scoff at, but now he had access to them. Dylan would have to use some tact and cunning to make the transfer of these books as official as possible, without arousing suspicions of their friends death.
Dylan's little corner desk had stationery as well as many inks and books of reference. His scythe was propped up in the corner of the room as he dipped his quill pen on his tongue then into a tub of ink.
"How are things going?"
A vague question, he now had to determine the relationship between the previous owner and the person with the other side of the book, and then he would have to make the transfer to himself as inconspicuous as possible. Worst comes to worst, if Dylan found no use for these people, he could simply return the books to the owners.
Dylan's little corner desk had stationery as well as many inks and books of reference. His scythe was propped up in the corner of the room as he dipped his quill pen on his tongue then into a tub of ink.
"How are things going?"
A vague question, he now had to determine the relationship between the previous owner and the person with the other side of the book, and then he would have to make the transfer to himself as inconspicuous as possible. Worst comes to worst, if Dylan found no use for these people, he could simply return the books to the owners.