i sailed seas of emotions to wander a forest of scars
i am a dance of light and darkness
The man is a waif in adult clothing, slender and ghost-like with dark eyes and hollow cheeks. It is not unlike looking at a mirror of herself, were it reflective of the year before: poorly dressed, poorly kempt, hiding from a deeper trauma in the comfort of the tomes. Maybe that is why she recognizes him, the thing that sparks some discontent, uneasy in her breast.
Tightening her grip around herself, she regards the man in silence. For her part the girl is surprisingly well put together, wearing a practical woolen dress beneath a crimson scarf. Still, there is weariness around the edges of her eyes, exhaustion with an unceasing world that does not fade when her lips turn up, a distant half-smile offered to the man. "I suppose we do." Beasts is a volume she's perused before, though not in quite some time. Perhaps it would be worth revisiting, in her quest to manage a looming Long Night.
Before she can speak his simple question catches her off guard, making her blink as painful nostalgia suddenly clouds her eyes. How long ago was it that this was her line, a statement made within her home, a place she understood? Is there really a new librarian already- and has she truly missed his advent? "Ah," she says, and clears her throat, swallowing down the swift denial that rises with her guard. "I, um, I'm trying to find information on the Spire Demon. And the Spark Bird. And the spire itself, I suppose." What can an Outlander offer her, that she does not already know?
She doesn't ask that, because pride is pointless now. They need all the help they can get.
Tightening her grip around herself, she regards the man in silence. For her part the girl is surprisingly well put together, wearing a practical woolen dress beneath a crimson scarf. Still, there is weariness around the edges of her eyes, exhaustion with an unceasing world that does not fade when her lips turn up, a distant half-smile offered to the man. "I suppose we do." Beasts is a volume she's perused before, though not in quite some time. Perhaps it would be worth revisiting, in her quest to manage a looming Long Night.
Before she can speak his simple question catches her off guard, making her blink as painful nostalgia suddenly clouds her eyes. How long ago was it that this was her line, a statement made within her home, a place she understood? Is there really a new librarian already- and has she truly missed his advent? "Ah," she says, and clears her throat, swallowing down the swift denial that rises with her guard. "I, um, I'm trying to find information on the Spire Demon. And the Spark Bird. And the spire itself, I suppose." What can an Outlander offer her, that she does not already know?
She doesn't ask that, because pride is pointless now. They need all the help they can get.
a galaxy of shadow and stars
AMALIA
