Sergeant of the Bloody Dawn

A troubled Dagramir stares away from his desk, and the growing mountain of paperwork that sat upon it. Finding the dim yellow light of the flickering candle over yonder all too captivating. That was, between the occasional glance over his shoulder to the sleeping body in bed behind him. Ever since accepting his role of Sergeant of the Bloody Dawn, he had found his nights had been spent less troubling taverns, and tormenting young women, and more with a quill in his hand, signing documents. He needed something to distract him from his work, and tending to an ill Ashaia. He needed an escape.

((Credit goes to Slugette once again for such a lovely watercolour painting of her character. Once again, I have edited the eyes to fit the character, but all else is her amazing work!))