[ a lengthy silence follows. one might imagine he's made good on that threat, cut the crystal off — save for the occasional clambor of distant feet, the scratch of a pen on parchment.
[While the returning pause isn't as long, it is truly quiet—no shuffling, no pen, no breath—and so his departure is marked only by the dimming of the crystal's light.]
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finally: ]
Hold your own place, Leander.
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