[PQ] Gourding/Guarding the Library [Seasonal Event]

amalia chandrakant there is a color that shines through your skin Like the moon on the wind She, too, is conspicuously absent from the library lately, the budding bakery taking up much of her time. Never expecting baking to be such a grandiose undertaking - her grandmother had always maintained the shop with such skill and finesse! - Amalia is exhausted at the end of each day, with scarcely the will for her evening ablations. Still, she misses it dearly, the dusty books in their towering rows, the warm cavern of knowledge, at once both foreign and familiar. So it is that she makes her way back, at once wary and wondering at the changes she might find. In her hand she clutches her staff - for no reason, she assures herself: certainly not because of the trepidation that fills her at the idea of seeing strangers within those hallowed halls. Not that she could ever assault a stranger, lest of all unprovoked- the branch is more of a comfort item, its well-worn wood smooth and supple beneath her calloused hands. Abruptly, Amalia stops. The Antheneum is there before her, just as she left it, and yet something is wrong. Faintly she hears it: voices, rustling, wrongness. It fills the girl with indignation and concern. Swallowing, Amalia tightens her grip and slips into the Antheneum, fire burning in her breast as she imagines the indignities being done to her books. Fire, indeed- the scene that meets her is chaotic and confusing, but one thing is immediately apparent: there is fire in the library, strangely shaped shocks of it, zipping among the... gourds? No, this cannot be: the girl has faced strangely aggressive pumpkins before; what are they doing here? No time to dwell- galvanized, the girl leaps forward, staff raised high before dropping down to squash a wayward... well, squash. Anxiety briefly quelled by passion, the baker strides closer, approaching the poor man caught beneath a mass of melons. "Put that fire away!" Amalia demands, her sharp gaze briefly flickering up to the second man - she doesn't know who summoned the phoenix - before reaching down to pluck a pumpkin off of the captive, inspecting it with a critical glare. The scary squash hisses in protest, thrashing in the air despite its lack of limbs, and the girl tosses it aside. "Do you know anything about them? Did you bring them from... where you came from?" she asks curiously, offering her left hand to assist the captive stranger to stand while prodding away pumpkins with the staff within her right. Loren Remi the night is full on behalf or your evaded mask And the rings round your eyes

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