And the next dawn rose without a care in the world, Apollo riding his chariot to bring the golden flames of the sun to their sides.
Athanasia having left the night before to get a few hours of sleep in before the morning and had told Claude to do the same.
She stretches her arms over her head and walks into the office to see Claude already working on the few documents that had been delivered early in the morning, and Athanasia's sky blue blouse highlights her pale skin under the soft morning glow.
The sun blinks through the window, and Athanasia, still groggy, shuffles across the room and into the next one over to get dressed for the day.
Athanasia giggles to herself as Lily brushes her hair, using a lapis lazuli strung ribbon wound between the fair golden locks, and pats her down, making sure there wasn't any dust upon her clothing.
Athanasia twirls, unable to hold back, and clings to Lily for a short while before waving and moving back to the room to finish up work.
Claude is reclining on the divan nearest to her, and he looks up at her groan of annoyance after many hours.
Feeling very much that he didn't want to see her having a hard time, he slips a bookmark between the pages and stands up.
Making his way to her and flicking her forehead as he approaches her. "Athanasia, how about a break?"
He attempts to distract her from the documents littered across the desk, leaning over the chair.
He pats her golden hair as she pouts in dismay at the ink running across the sheet she had just filled out.
"Daddy! Look what you've done!!"
She sighed- knowing magicking it away wasn't an option, and she would have to re-draft it again.
She couldn't have rumors going around that she sent in official papers with unreadable words due to ink blots that are a personal failure on her part, now could she?
Athanasia wondered of such small problems as her pen writes out the words to a new law she had settled with the court the day before.
The dip of her pen into the glass inkwell, tapping the edge of the gold nib against the inkwell to make sure it wouldn't drip onto the page.
The clink of the tap against the stained glass, and the result was the inevitable ink blot despite all her cares to not get one.
Her chiffon blouse has a splash of ink on the lace as she twirls her finger in the droplet of ink pooling from the nib, and rubs her index and thumb together, spreading the black onto her pale skin.
Athanasia holds up the paper to the light, seeing the ink spread across the page, glistening like the night under the light and on a whim, folds the already ruined paper in half and spreads it open again.
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