S
A
M
U
E
L
A
M
U
E
L
The book of love is long and boring
The smell of drying ink coming from the page before him was immensely satisfying to Sam as he doodled twinging green leaves around the edge of his work, the last page of the first myth of his collection. Vines were a good general sort of decoration, he thought. Perhaps he could pretend it meant something deeper, life and a happy ending, but...really, he knew how to draw vines and they looked alright as a border.
He found himself actually in quite good spirits. It had been an...odd month, but things were settled now. Having proven himself to be brave by going off with Jigano into the woods, even though it turned out rather benign, he was proud of himself and felt justified in taking some days to simply work and be quiet, drink lots of tea and read whatever he liked.
In fact, he was in such a good mood that as he shuffled through his papers for the next myth he was to begin work on, he began to hum, a little tune from Fiat Lux. It was early morning in the Atheneum, not the sort of time it was busy, so he was not too guilty about bothering anyone elses reading time.
"A-a-and a barley corn for me..." Sam sang softly under his breath, pausing to lick his fingers to turn the page, completely wrapped up in his work and oblivious to the outside world.
He found himself actually in quite good spirits. It had been an...odd month, but things were settled now. Having proven himself to be brave by going off with Jigano into the woods, even though it turned out rather benign, he was proud of himself and felt justified in taking some days to simply work and be quiet, drink lots of tea and read whatever he liked.
In fact, he was in such a good mood that as he shuffled through his papers for the next myth he was to begin work on, he began to hum, a little tune from Fiat Lux. It was early morning in the Atheneum, not the sort of time it was busy, so he was not too guilty about bothering anyone elses reading time.
"A-a-and a barley corn for me..." Sam sang softly under his breath, pausing to lick his fingers to turn the page, completely wrapped up in his work and oblivious to the outside world.
No one can lift the damn thing
