In my brightest reverie I can see her walking next to me
I feel her breath upon my cheek, speaking gentle words to tame the beast
I feel her breath upon my cheek, speaking gentle words to tame the beast
The library is deserted around lunchtime, which is precisely why Anju had timed her arrival for this exact hour. While not an avid reader, she had been rebuffed by the local seller where she had obtained the saltwater taffy Ludo had been so enamored by - apparently their taffy recipe was a closely guarded secret, which is exasperating to say the least. So here she is, striding with muted but purposeful thumps of her boots through the familiar aisles as Riya soars over the stacks just overhead, recipe book loosely held in her hand by the spine and thumping against her thigh.
Unwilling to check the book out and risk forgetting to return it, she begins to hunt for one of the tables in the library to sit down and transcribe the singular recipe she needs. Her eyes skirt over the blonde figure in the corner with the express desire to avoid conversation; she should have known it would be a useless endeavor. Riya trills from on high, excitement clear as it thrums across the bond between them, forcefully pulling Anju's attention - alongside a wordless grunt of objection that goes unheeded.
Riya swans down towards the young woman, wings spreading wide to slow her descent and land at the feet of the chair she inhabits. Seconds behind her comes Anju, a stormcloud of a woman with more muscle than facial expressions - aside from the clear disapproval that she aims towards her companion. "Leave her alone, she is clearly reading," she chides her sister, who is already trying to put her claws up on the armrest of the girl's chair to nose at the book in her hand.
Unwilling to check the book out and risk forgetting to return it, she begins to hunt for one of the tables in the library to sit down and transcribe the singular recipe she needs. Her eyes skirt over the blonde figure in the corner with the express desire to avoid conversation; she should have known it would be a useless endeavor. Riya trills from on high, excitement clear as it thrums across the bond between them, forcefully pulling Anju's attention - alongside a wordless grunt of objection that goes unheeded.
Riya swans down towards the young woman, wings spreading wide to slow her descent and land at the feet of the chair she inhabits. Seconds behind her comes Anju, a stormcloud of a woman with more muscle than facial expressions - aside from the clear disapproval that she aims towards her companion. "Leave her alone, she is clearly reading," she chides her sister, who is already trying to put her claws up on the armrest of the girl's chair to nose at the book in her hand.
Anju
