[i][sub]"If someone sets free a man from his chains, people generally think of it as an act of goodness. 
Then you figure he's poised to end the world. No action has a single moral leaning pinned to it. He probably even ought to have a good reason why he will end the world-- whatever one can think of."
[b]Artavi'e Mosceredanu, circa. 132 CE[/b][/sub]
[/i]

The fire on the wick did little to bathe the dark room in its radiance. What was once congested with modern and sophisticated furnishings, Artav had redecorated into a roomier and more ornate, albeit simpler, space. A large circular mahogany table with a collection of religious paraphernalia seated atop, which included a bronze holy cross, a hokora, a dharma wheel, a big collection of other pagan items and others, sat where the dinner table used to be. Elaborate, gold-linen banners of blue and turquoise hung on top of the walls. A mat, which both served as the recluse's meditation space and consultation area, took a sizable space of the living room's floor. Concentric circles radiated from its center, and zigzags, dots and more circles filled the spaces in between, and brilliant colors of gold, red and white dominated the fabric. At the very center was Artavi'e herself, wrapping up her routine meditation as she grabbed the candle at her front with her two hands, slowly raised the fire near her lips, and blew the flame away, leaving only tiny slivers of light from the curtained windows to brighten the room.

[i]Another day in the fight between idiots.[/i] Artav muttered, groaning as she flipped the switch to the warm lights. She was always an ill-tempered, wise woman, and many had come to describe her in simple words as a "young old woman that knows everything and claims to know everything", and "too mature for her age". Whatever they say, Artav never cared for other's opinions unless it was a consultation, favoring instead on working with her pen and brush and write either what philosophical thought popped in her mind or what spell would she be working on.

Artav grabbed her paintbrush from across the room, sitting down again on the floor afterwards to write. Carefully she dipped the tip in ink, and made graceful, delicate calligraphic strokes, marking the paper with intricate curves and loops. Shortly after finishing, Artav picked up another piece of paper from a shelf, made the uncommon occasion of stepping outside, sticking the unnecessarily ornate sign to the facade:


[center][b][i]HIRING APPRENTICES[/i][/b][/center]


And taped the other sign to her door:


[center][b][i]OPEN FOR CONSULTATION[/i][/b][/center]


With that finished, Artavi'e returned inside, beginning to continue her work on her next tome.