"Mother! Mother!"
"...I've told you many times not to--"
As the sage with platinum hair turned around to look at the young girl, she found her words absent from her throat as those innocent, azure eyes looked up at her with such admiration and joy.
"What is it, Iris?"
Returning her gaze to the bookshelf made of soft, golden wood in front of her, Beatrice began to return the books she held in her arms back to their rightful place. It was something the young girl enjoyed watching--for a reason unbeknownst to the sage. Sometimes, the girl who stood no taller than the sage's knees fervently requested to return the books herself.
Though they were much too heavy for the frail, small child, she happily tried her best while standing atop her tippy-toes, reaching with such determination before each and every book found its home once more.
"When is Father coming back?"
"..."
"Mother?"
