Storytelling

At heart, Celosia was a politician and a humanitarian. Having fangs and being in a new world didn’t change that in the slightest, but the lack of political stimulation was really getting to her. Her mind was one that was never able to stay still for very long, so the opportunity for knowledge gathering was one she couldn’t deny. The young woman walked with silent steps towards the Atheneum, her gaze passing over the Temple when she passed it, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather rushed through her. She was still hesitant in entering the Temple, but no way in hells was she going back into that shrine. She’d heard that another one had been discovered in the Glade, but she had yet to decide whether or not she would want to risk that kind of attention again. Not any time soon anyway. Stepping into the Atheneum, Cel found herself captivated by the scene. It was beautiful in an ancient kind of way, and she wondered just how old the books and tomes were. The area that was caved in drew her interest, but there was no way she was going to get in there, especially not without help, so she brought crimson-toned eyes to the volumes within reach. She pressed her lips together, taking a dusty tome off of a shelf that sat about eye-level for her. There was no title or outer markings, only bound with cracking leather. It looked quite old, and when she opened it, it was written in another language, one that she didn’t recognize in the slightest. Her gaze flitted around the many books in the large room, and she couldn't help the surge of curiosity that filled her, wanting to know more about what could be hidden in the bindings of so many new texts. celosia Bride of Darkness