Originally Posted by nicole black

aslan evans. mother of two. alchemist. unspeakable. exhausted.
the cup of tea in their hands was strong but not strong enough to get them through what had begun as a very long night. Desdemona was sick. they had contracted an awful virus and had spent the better part of the evening making sacrifices to the god of porcelain. Aslan had only been able to hold back their hair and wipe away furious tears while the flu had run its course, and while the child of ten was fine now, it had taken up the better part of the night. In fewer words, Aslan hat not slept.

Barely aware of the young man, aslan sat down at his table and heaved a great sigh. “You look tired too.” She did not know him personally. She had seen him, however, at Ministry events and the day to day here and while Aslan was not known for making conversation, she needed something to focus her brain on.