[He doubted that would tell him much, aside from premeditation, perhaps. Better to start where the damage had first been done. Javik did not slow to inspect the chalk drawings, but took them all in just the same.]

I recall a time when we knew an elf that could sing about foxes and not worry about retribution.

[Mostly. Javik had warned Maglor to watch his back, but in the end, that had all been for nothing. Stepping into her office, Javik simply stood there a moment, taking note of what was where, askew or not. When he finally moved forward, it was to put his hands on the desk, head bowing as he closed his eyes.

Ariadne's presence in this room was strong. Minnie and Brennan, shardbearers and natives, all coming and going in a flurry of sights and sounds and smells and emotions. That this had happened recently made it easier, but the more he searched, the more... muddled things became. Trying to get a sense of the cultist was like picking up sand or water. It was there, it was real and tangible, but it slipped away to follow a path that he could not.

Paper shuffled, dry skin against dry parchment and Javik's eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply as he lifted his hands.]

He is... difficult to pinpoint. Many documents on this desk have been duplicated, but I cannot say which.