It is a chilling thing to make so dire an oversight. Edward stood, a file he had not opened in months lying on the table before him, containing notes and details of an investigation into a Breach. Containing the tattered remains of a sketch, neatly settled in a ziplock bag.
It was surreal. Edward felt drugged. It was as if someone had snuck into his Haven and planted it. Yet clearly not, he had no memory of making a delivery to the Prince, so why wouldn't it be here?
The Prince. How long had it been since she had first told him to bring it to her? Close to half a year? He carefully removed the bag, placed it in a second zip-lock bag, donned inoffensive formal attire, penned a short note, and made a call to the Prince's ghoul.
The phone began to ring...
Alessandra