CELESTE
Trevor finally clapped his hands once, loudly, and grinned at me. "Alright, enough of this. You've done enough scribbling to make a historian proud."
I looked up from the diary, exhausted, shoulders aching from leaning over the pages for hours. My stomach growled faintly.
Trevor chuckled. "Ah, yes. I was wondering when that would happen. Come on, let's get some food before your brain melts entirely."
He led me through the corridors, the sunlight beginning to creep in through the tall windows. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasting meat teased my nose. My stomach growled louder, and I rubbed it awkwardly.
"Hungry, are we?" Trevor teased, a warm smile on his face. "You've been working hard. Not that anyone would notice the blood, sweat, and tears you've poured into these portraits."
I glared at him half-heartedly. "I'm not that dramatic."
"Not dramatic? You've been muttering curses at gold plates and calling ancestors out by name. I call that drama." He winked.
