History has its eyes on you

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Books. She is actually looking for books.   Gods, Wessex hasn’t openend a book in… over a decade, maybe? Maybe more? What reason would she have to do so? They don’t have trade magazines here, no one is sending in new information regarding fighting techniques or weapons. There are no catalogues selling merchandise, nothing she hasn’t already read. Anything on strategy she’s already read. The fauna of Caido? Read and experienced. Great Caidonite warriors? None she’s ever heard of, but  if the information wasn’t here before the Bubble came down, all the lore’s been lost. And biographies aren’t really her strong suit… which is ironic, considering her best bet may be in something like that. Or a diary. Did they keep old diaries in here? She wanders in amongst the moonlight, gazing up at the multiple floors, the remnants of the dome. It smells vaguely of mildewing pages, of dust, and information long forgotten. She crinkles her nose a bit. Yum. Unsure of where to begin, the Ascended starts by walking up to the nearest bookshelf and starts reading the titles of whatever she can find, going slowly and methodically so as not to miss anything. Maybe if she returns night after night, she will eventually find what she’s looking for - if it’s even here in the first place. LongNight. She just wants to know about the first LongNight. Something would have had to survive at least 300 years. Less? Ok, let’s say more than sixtysomee-odd years - more than her great-grandmother’s age. Her grandmother taught her mother about LongNight precautions, which means that someone would have had to teach her… Fuck. Wessex shakes her head as she inches along. It’s going to be a long couple of nights.   black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul