I was going, Mother, to pick roses, to find death

MaeA Compared to the sweltering heat outside, the Atheneum was almost cold. Sheltered from a relentless sun by thick stone walls, it was a haven that Maea was grateful for having whenever the light outside grew too bright. She was not made for so much daylight. A pale daughter of the moon, her skin was want to redden and flake these days, lips constantly red and chapped. Using the salve Phoebe had given her did ease the constant burn, and kept it from becoming worse. But even so, she always felt better when she could retreat into the library. Going down the steps to the Loreseeker's Guild offered even more relief. Below ground the temperature was cool and the air dry at any time of the year. Good for the books. Good too for girls who tried to do too much at once, and only slowed down when others forced her to. Carrying a sheaf of documents in the crook of her arm, she slipped down the stairs and entered the guildhall with practiced ease. If she was tense and uneasy out in the open, amidst crowds and thrust into strained interactions, then here she seemed to finally breathe again. Inhaling the deep, musty scent of old paper, ink and the inevitable dust, she made her way towards the Provost's office, and knocked lightly on the door. As always she waited for a reply before attempting to open the door; it was always a gamble whether Jigano would be there or not, and she had no interest in rummaging through his office when he wasn't there. Even though some of the secrets he kept were decidedly curious in nature. you're so cold, but you feel alive.