Down and out, and out of luck, we're spinning but the needle's stuck
Accepting his decision without complaint, Maea led the way down the hallway to a set of double doors that entranced the archives. Home to the oldest and most fragile texts, the air within was dry and cool, perfect for preservation of biological matter. Not entirely removed from a tomb, actually.
"Probably close to what you are picturing," she explained as they walked, keeping her voice down to fight the echo. "Wasps made from paper, they eat ink and make nests from parchment and can be really nasty to deal with. They love this place, I've lost track of how many times I've helped smoke them out." It was a good thing the nest was old; hopefully that meant all the pests would have fried and crumbled away.
Winding their way in between ancient looking shelves, they came upon the scene of a veritable landslide of books, scrolls and scattered pieces of paper. A group of about five caretakers were busy gathering up the precious books, overseen by a plump woman with curly salt-and-pepper hair forced into a braid wound about the head and her hands dancing about her in a mute display of despair. 'Distraught' was a good description, and Maea was quite happy to wave Tal ahead to do the talking.
She shrank back to hide behind his back when Ms Thrushwick spotted them andbwhipped around with a sharp "Well! Can't you see we're busy? What's this about then?" The woman had always made her uneasy; like she'd reverted back to a child caught eating sticky sweets around the books.
"Probably close to what you are picturing," she explained as they walked, keeping her voice down to fight the echo. "Wasps made from paper, they eat ink and make nests from parchment and can be really nasty to deal with. They love this place, I've lost track of how many times I've helped smoke them out." It was a good thing the nest was old; hopefully that meant all the pests would have fried and crumbled away.
Winding their way in between ancient looking shelves, they came upon the scene of a veritable landslide of books, scrolls and scattered pieces of paper. A group of about five caretakers were busy gathering up the precious books, overseen by a plump woman with curly salt-and-pepper hair forced into a braid wound about the head and her hands dancing about her in a mute display of despair. 'Distraught' was a good description, and Maea was quite happy to wave Tal ahead to do the talking.
She shrank back to hide behind his back when Ms Thrushwick spotted them andbwhipped around with a sharp "Well! Can't you see we're busy? What's this about then?" The woman had always made her uneasy; like she'd reverted back to a child caught eating sticky sweets around the books.
Maea
