Evie
a princess with lips made of glass and a voice cut from steel
After being trapped inside the Temple for so long perhaps someone would question Evie's quick return to the indoors once the sun has returned. The smell of old paper greets her senses as she graces the entryway, the muted tap of her footsteps echoing up to swim in the high ceiling's acoustics. Once upon a time, young and easily awed, Evie had found the looming stacks of untapped knowledge imposing. Even the echo of her passing had made her shrink back, hyper-aware of her own existence. Now the Atheneum is a friend of sorts. An old gentleman with stories to provide no matter how many times she sits at his knee, eager for another. Slim fingers dance along aged spines as she wanders past, as enamored with the selection as she has always been. Once upon a time Evie had dreaded reading through the old tomes. Had railed against it - loudly and verbosely - when Amalia's mother had forced her to sit still long enough to shove the information into her thick head. A wry smile pulls on her lips, and she plucks a book from a random spot on a shelf, delaying her mission in returning to her studies to remind herself of her spring goals.
It's old, but in better shape than some. Evie sneezes multiple times when the dust comes off too strong as she opens it, and her eyes water in objection, but she's too focused on parsing the old vernacular to worry about what a mess she must look like.
