Ophelia

"Given enough time, and enough effort, anything is plausible."

Her mother had told her that. It was practically her favorite turn of phrase. It had been brought up whenever she was growing weary of something. Whether it be training, or studying, or any other difficult pursuit, she had always been reassured that with persistence, she would endure. She hadn't really given it much thought at the time. Even when conquering her latest endeavor, she hadn't given it much of a thought.

But now a-days it feel on her mind more often. She questioned the entire plausibility of it. Surely there were plenty of people who had put in as much time and effort as they had available and still failed. Not that that discounted the saying, really. It just meant that they hadn't had enough time or enough effort to give, and thus failed.

She allowed the quill in her hand to drop, settling down on her desk near her latest written work, hands coming to rub her forehead. It was only a matter of time until that was her. All this time, and all this effort wasn't going to matter for her in the end. Perhaps it was best that she knew that. It was because she knew that she was already preparing people to take up her work in the aftermath of her passing. Time and effort would continue being poured in because the project deserved it. Azeroth deserved it, as did the Legion.

Every day that passed seem to bring that possibility closer. Duskwood had finally caught up with the rest of her schedule, which meant that soon enough over pieces would start falling into place. Some things had been interrupted, true, but most others had progressed accordingly. Or at least as accordingly as such a plan could. Sheer disruption of operations was impossible, especially with something as large a scale as the Broken Isles's campaign. Elsewhere though things were somewhat stabler or weakened, which meant that they were more open to being abused.

For now though there was mostly the matter of dealing with the particular Knights who had decided to bother her. Or at least setting up the process of doing so, should she not be able to do so in her time.

There was a wrapping at the door of her office. A quick flick of her wrist sent one of the ghouls resting in one of the corners of the room stumbling towards the door and slowly pulling it open. Beyond stood another Knight of the Ebon Blade, his lich blue eyes peering out from behind a standard helm. Another flick of her wrist called him forward. He swiftly set a letter on her desk, saluted, and turned to leave without another word. The ghoul closed the door and shuffled back from wince it had come.

Producing a letter opener from a drawer, she slashed at the envelope. Pulling out the letter within her eyes ran down the page as swiftly as possible, mouth curling upward somewhat. It was at least somewhat more than she was expecting. It was also more than enough to work with. She quickly scribbled out a letter of her own, produced an envelope and sealed it with a quick press from a stamp. Another flick of the wrist brought a geist forward as the ghoul shuffled back towards the door. With one glance at the envelope's delivery address, the geist bobbed its lone eye up and down, making for the door which the ghoul jerkily opened and closed, before returning to its corner.

And just like that, things were in motion once again. It brought a smirk to her lips. More time and effort to be poured in. More things to make plausible.