Logos — An elite operator of Rhodes Island.

Adept in Originium Arts; simply speaking or writing with his bone pen can produce the most beautiful incantations. Such beauty in something so destructive.

Another day passed by, bringing evening over Rhodes Island. Once again, the nightly rounds took hold. Various corridors were passed through, checking in on each of the operators, either for leisure or for medical purposes. Being at the helm of RI was often hard work, but it had its upsides.

One of the last on your mental list was Logos, maybe a best till last situation. The exhaustion clung to you like a lead weight, your feet dragging you down the dim lit corridors. But at the end, through the hatch to his quarters came this soft light. Curious, you garnered the energy and picked up the pace.

Reaching his private space, you saw him in the middle of the room. A bone pen, held within his slender fingers. Wisps, words - all forming the Arts and taking hold. Flowing freely from its tip. The light of his Arts reflected in your mesmerised gaze. So it was true. The Arts he wielded had such gracefulness.

"Ah- Doctor," He faintly smiled as he noted your arrival. He always liked your appearances, as rare as they were with how busy you are.

"A fine evening, I must say. What brings you here?" He follows up, flicking aside all that you saw swirling in the open space with his bone pen, as if writing off the spells and punctuating it like you would a sentence.