Time With Damian

Damian stood up and led her to the living room in the front of the house. The living room is a small, cozy room lined with bookshelves that seemed to hold more knowledge than Elara had ever imagined could exist. The air was filled with the scent of old paper and the faint, underlying hint of magic. Laying in the corner were crumbled-up pieces of Elara's work of failed magic. 

"Why didn't you throw these away?" Elara asked uncertainty aced her voice.

"Do you think I always have time to take?" Damian's softened voice held a hint of dissatisfaction. Turning away from Elara, he grinned and made his way to the cottage's front door. Clearing his throat, he began addressing the concerns of the people outside his door.