That Certain Female [Angmor]

[Emma]

Ceunon was undoubtedly my favourite place in the universe- the attractive men and perfect castle and the courtyard and my little pets were nothing short of heavenly. However, staying home all day, and not even going out into the city proper- Rusalka strictly never allowed me to mingle with the commoners- did become tiresome. This week, she was off visiting the count of Ília Fëon, and rather than leave me to rule Ceunon alone, the stewards had begged me to take a vacation and let them do the decision-making. Out of hideous boredom if nothing else, I’d accepted, and headed off to Ilirea. As it turned out, several ancient texts on Ceunon had been discovered, and the Riders thought it important that Rusalka and I saw them. And so, here I was.

My face was pressed against the privacy screen of my carriage as I gazed out at the beauty of Ilirea, completely entranced. The villas and gardens and tall white buildings couldn’t be compared to any other city I’d ever seen. And the racial diversity was astounding- aside from elves and even one or two humans, there were fey folk and elementals and shape-shifters and several more that I couldn’t name for the life of me. My excitement only increased as we drew closer to the Citadel, where I would be meeting with a young Vaoris of an unknown House. He would be showing me around and keeping me entertained during my stay in Ilirea. I bounced with excitement.

I hoped he was good-looking. I hoped I would get to be alone with him if he was. He’d apparently grown up among books, and I’d always found the academic type to have a pleasing appeal as compared to the burly six-foot-five monsters most women seemed to prefer. And from what I’d heard, Ilirea was the scholar’s paradise. Every genius in Alagaësia was clumped among the Riders, forever searching for knowledge. Now that I thought about it, the prospect was actually incredibly boring, leafing through ancient parchment all day. However, that did mean this Vaoris individual’s patience was probably unbelievable. And that he would be a good listener, too.

As the carriage drew near the Citadel, I took a moment to peer at the glorious combination of glassy crystal and pale marble. It was noon and a warm, clear day, and the sun reflected rather blindingly on the white, making me glad for the screen on my carriage. I pulled away and tousled my hair as I felt the vehicle halt. We were probably at the gates. I’d tied up my magnificently blonde hair in a courtly up-do, with several strands purposely teased out of the bun so I didn’t look stately and sophisticated and utterly boring like most noblewomen. I wanted him to recognize my sense of fun, after all. After several uninteresting minutes, the carriage started rolling again.

I listened to the pleasant clack of wheels over cobblestones as we passed by the gates and headed for a comparatively smaller building with flying buttresses and an enormous crystal rotunda on the roof. Seeing as this was where I got off, I waited patiently for the driver to come around and open the door for me. He was a strange, unpleasant little man that I’d been stuck with rather than my usual driver, Lujon, due to the fact that he’d had a little incident that had led to him being banished from Ilirea. I watched the creep slide the door open and give a little bow, a ghastly grin on his face. I stuck my nose up in the air and stepped down from the carriage, not even gracing him with a second glance.

Since it was anything but a formal occasion, I had ditched the full-sleeved heavy gowns for something lighter- but still not anything close to casual. I did need to make my high rank obvious to the common folk. The dress I wore was cyan in colour, sleeveless and strapless, and went to the floor. It hugged my torso tightly, squeezing my waist and showing off my ample chest, while the skirt, decorated with criss-crossing ruffles, flowed outwards. I wore tiny sky blue slippers on my feet and a silver necklace adorned with a sapphire around my neck. Two more sapphires, fashioned into drop earrings to give more depth to my face, hung from my ears. I looked positively gorgeous.

I marched to the steps, lifting my skirt slightly so I could safely make my way up the stairs. As I went, I quickly opened the aqua clasp I had in my hands and half-removed a bronze hand mirror to check my makeup one last time. The powdered minerals I’d spread on my eyelids matched the colour of my dress perfectly, and I’d also oiled my lashes to curl and lengthen them. My lips were a soft, unobtrusive pink, as I wanted his attention on my large brown eyes. Putting the hand mirror away, I glanced up just as I reached the top of the stairs. A man waited by the library doors. I paused as I climbed the last step, looking him over. As he came towards me, I decided that he was pretty.

His eyes were an incredibly pleasant mixture of grey and green, and his pale skin a lovely, obviously carefully kept snow-white, while his raven-black hair was worn long- a must for men to be considered attractive to me. However, I wasn’t impressed by his clothes- from the drab dust-grey colouring, it was obvious it was one of those horrid uniforms that unfortunate members of organizations across the world were forced to wear. It didn’t show off much form to me at all, although he was quite skinny- he probably didn’t eat much surrounded by those books, poor soul. I would have to get a servant to fetch us food and feed him while I ravished him with my beauty.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Countess Venali,” he began. “Welcome to-”
“Ooh!” I cried as he took another step forward. “Your legs! You have such gorgeous legs for a man! I reckon you’ve no idea of this, but men usually have such awful legs, it’s- oh!” I frowned as he took a step backward. “Where did they go?”
“Er… your Grace, welcome to-”
“Oh, come now. You can just call me Veela, Mr. Vaoris. I’m not going to be formal with such a handsome fellow such as yourself.” I took his arm, winking at him as he blushed. “How cute! Now, are you showing me in or not? This sun is terrible for my skin, don’t you know, and I haven’t brought a parasol! How silly of me!”

Words;; 1118
Muse;; Surprisingly good!
Thoughts;; Bwahaha! I love it!

[Angmor]

For Vaoris, Ilirea was undoubtedly his favorite place in the universe.
It helped, of course, that he hadn't been to many other places. Even so, he suspected that if he had known any other city throughout Alagaesia, he would still prefer his home more than any other. There was just a thrill in the air around Ilirea, something that could be breathed in. It was… a sense of excitement, of mystery. A sense that something was always happening. He took a deep breath of the warm autumn air as he looked out over the city, smiling just slightly to himself. No, he had his city, and he had his library full of knowledge, more knowledge than he could ever absorb in one lifetime. He could not imagine ever wanting to leave.
With a sigh, he turned away from the still breathtaking view before him, pulling his mind back into the here and now.

He was standing on one of the many outside balconies of the Grand Library of Ilirea, this particular one on the third floor of the building’s western side. It was not by any means the most grand and impressive view that the Library afforded of the great city, but Vaoris loved it all the same. While he could have found many other places to look out at the grandest parts, this one provided a view of one of the marketplaces that lay astride the busy avenue that ran past the Library’s main doors. From here, he could gaze out on the hustle and bustle of people, elves and humans and… others as they went about their business. Vaoris always found it an amazing sight. The diversity was mesmerizing. So many races and individuals all acting together, and mostly in pursuit of one goal; the acquisition of knowledge. For him, it was a testament to the power of the Riders, bringing so many together. One day, he was sure, the rest of the world would be that way. Knowledge was the key to peace.
He shook his head, knocking himself from a daydream for the second time in the past few minutes. In the meantime though, he had other, slightly more immediate matters to think on.

Two weeks before, when he had been straightening up a notoriously disorganized section of the archives, he had stumbled upon several parchments. Upon reading them, he discovered that these texts detailed some of the history and other interesting facts about the elven city of Cuenon, lost perhaps for centuries. He smiled to himself, thinking of the commendation he had received for the find. And then, just when he thought he could not get any more auspicious, he had discovered that a countess of Ceunon had apparently taken an interest in his discovery, and was coming to see them. And, on merit of the fact that he had been the one to obtain them, Vaoris would have the honor of escorting her for the duration of her stay.
He was reasonably certain that anyone who looked at him over the course of that week could detect the slight glow of pride and excitement he had felt. After all, while it was not totally uncommon for elven nobility to visit the Grand Library, it was practically unheard of that they would be guided around by a mere apprentice scholar. It told him just how much faith the elders had in him. There were other apprentices, true, but none of them truly understood. He had grown up here. He considered the Grand Library his home far more than the modest apartment that he slept in most nights. And the elders had practically raised him, so they knew him better than he even knew himself.

Of course, it was a huge responsibility as well. Almost that entire week had been spent tidying up the section of the Library where they would be spending most of their time. He personally made sure that every book and scroll was straightened on the shelves, that every particle of dust was swept away, and that every surface shone in the defuse sunlight filtered through the archive's ingenious system of mirrors that provided light to almost all corners of the building. At last, all was ready. Vaoris turned, surveying his work one last time as he strode through the Library, moving toward the main doors three floors below. He still felt that there was a thousand things to be done. Everywhere his eyes spotted flaws, from a crack in the flagstones to a miniscule smudge of ink on the shelves, but it was too late for any of it. The countess was due any minute.
He sighed. Face it. He thought to himself. There will always be more to do. Just let it go. After all, I'm sure the countess won't be so exacting.
Although, he did wonder. What would the countess be like? It was strange, really. If he so chose, he could research and study until he knew every ruling noble of Ceunon as far back as four thousand years ago. But if he tried, he could not find a single object or person in the archive who knew who the present one was. It was not the work of a scholar to be appraised of current events, and nor should it ever be. It did put him at something of a disadvantage though, as he did not have anything to prepare based on her tastes. Would she be old and stately, or young an beautiful? Would she be the withdrawn and distant kind, or the laughing and singing sort? Would she have a mate in tow, or would she be... unattached?

These questions chased each other aimlessly around his imagination as he strode around the circumference of the central rotunda of the archives, sweeping toward the stairs that would take him to the main floor. Just then, he skidded to a halt, studying his reflection in a burnished copper wall mirror. Another thing he had taken great care in preparing was his personal appearance. He had bathed himself thoroughly that morning, using the finest soap that he could afford on his income. He had then trimmed his silky black hair, before tying it back in the most intricate braid he knew. It was a bit behind the current style, but he could not afford the beads and circlets that most elves were wearing now. He had also donned his best clothes, a set of grey-green tunic and pants embroidered in simple patterns of swirling gold. Over this, his grey scholar's robe was perhaps the cleanest it had ever been. He had paid handsomely to make sure it was cleaned until not even the most ambitious stain could keep its nefarious grip. More importantly, the scroll within the star on his right shoulder shone with pride. All in all, he decided, he was happy with what he saw. He could only hope that the countess would not be too grandly turned out to appreciate it.
"Going to get married, Vaoris?" Came a sudden voice behind him, breaking in on his thoughts.

He spun around, searching for the source of the voice. A few yards away, under one of the archways that marked the border between the interior of the rotunda and the rest of the building, there was a reading table. At that reading table, a large book was sitting upright, supported by a pair of hands. As he watched, the book was lowered, revealing a smiling, befreckled face. Vaoris felt himself uncoil. It was not often that he didn't instantly recognize a voice around here. "Well Eilsa, not as far as I am aware..." He shot back, smiling. "But you never know."
Eilsa, the girl before him, was another apprentice scholar in the Grand Library. She was one of the very few humans ever to be accepted, which made her something of the odd girl out. Of course, she had only been for a few months, and still spoke the Ancient Language with a slightly comical accent. Vaoris liked her, for the most part. Her magical gift had spoken for her merits, and she was quite intelligent.
For a human, anyway.
Eilsa frowned, pushing an unruly strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Well, if you're not getting married, what are you doing?"
"I'm on my way to greet a countess. You know, the engagement I've been preparing for? For the past week?"
Another thing that could be said of Eilsa was that she possessed the same vague disposition that was very nearly a requirement among scholars. "That was today? Oh, yes, I remember. Well, keep your options open. You wouldn't want to disappoint her." She said breezily.
Vaoris felt himself flush slightly. "What do you mean by that?"
"You never know, she just might be looking for the short, dark, bookish type." She broke off, thinking for a moment. "But then, I don't think that would work out."
Vaoris felt his face grow a shade redder. It was ridiculous, he knew, but still... "And why not?" He asked.
Eilsa's expression grew distant again. "Simple," She said, raising the book to conceal her face again. "Does Ceunon even have a library?"

Vaoris was left in silence, staring at the leather binding as the young girl disappeared back into her personal fog, his face red. Had he really been acting like that?
After a moment, he shook his head. No, it was stupid and ridiculous. Eilsa was a young human girl after all, barely out of her teens. She was obviously overusing her girlish imagination at his expense. She still believed in that adorably quaint human concept of marriage after all. No, there was nothing to what she said. It was folly.
With that, he felt his face cool. He shook his head again, pushing the incident aside as he turned away, striding away just fast enough to make his robe swirl behind him.
I'm not retreating. He told himself firmly. I'm just in a hurry to meet the countess. I don't want to be late.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the main doors of the archives. Like most things in the Grand Library, these were very impressive, even for the standards of Ilirea. Commissioned from dwarven contractors, these was huge, forty-foot high spans of solid onyx, high enough to accommodate most dragons, bound in swirling gold filigree. They had to weigh thousands of pounds, and yet by the skill of the balance they could be swung open with a mere gentle thrust. Of course, on such a pleasant day, these were left open, leaving nothing but to step onto the expanse of the dark marble steps cascading down to the thoroughfare below. Here he stopped, taking a deep breath to compose himself, smoothing his clothing. Well, this was it. Any moment now, countess Venali would arrive at these very steps, to see him. Well, to see the parchments anyway, but this thought did nothing to assuage his nervousness. And then there was Eilsa said...

Just then, amid the constant foot-traffic of elves and men and other, a carriage rounded the corner. Carriages where not all that unusual in the streets of Ilirea, but this one was different. It was larger, for one. For another, it bore a mark that he recognized from a seal he had seen for the first time about two weeks ago.
The crest of the city of Ceunon.
He felt his gut turn a nervous flip.
The pair of white horses driving the carriage seemed to take their sweet time, prolonging his anxiety. Was she coming alone? The carriage was large enough to carry a small retinue, but she could just as easily be traveling alone. Yet one more thing he could nto prepare for.
Finally, with excruciating slowness, the carriage came to a laborious halt at the foot of the steps. The driver, a rather small, obstreperous-looking man leapt down from his perch, slowly circled around...
Took hold of the door handle...
And slid the door open with a slightly artificial bow of respect.
And then she came out.

Up until that moment, Vaoris had thought that he didn't have any expectations, but now he discovered that he had, and the woman who emerged was not it. He found himself frozen, unable to do anything but stare as she glanced around before beginning her climb up the steps, lifting her skirts daintily.
She was certainly beautiful. Her gown was perhaps the finest he had ever seen, a lustrous shade of blue-green that seemed to glow brightly against the dark marble of the steps. For Vaoris, who spent most of his time among the dusty hues of the archives, it was almost a shock to his eyes. Not quite as much as the woman herself, however. She looked young, but that was always difficult to tell with elven woman, especially in those who took care of their appearance.
And countess was most definitely one of these.
Everything about her bespoke the great attention she gave to her image, from the delicate application of her colors and pigments to the tone and hue of her skin. Even as he watched, she surreptitiously slid a small mirror from the small bag she was carrying to give herself another quick scan, much as he had done minutes earlier. Now, while Vaoris did not consider himself the picture of masculine beauty, he did not consider himself a toad, either. Suddenly he felt very small and inadequate, unable to measure up to her splendor even at his best. And yet, one look at her face allayed his fears. She did not carry the slightest bit of pride or haughtiness in her face. In fact, she looked downright pleasant, a person very prone to smile and laugh.
All in all, she looked nice, and very beautiful, in an oddly human sort of way. He wasn't sure exactly what he felt about that. But it was definitely not what he had been anticipating for this moment.

Finally, the countess' delicately-shod foot crested the top of the steps, snapping him out of his paralysis. Consciously slapping down his nervousness and telling it to behave, he took a step forward, bowing his head in respect as he summoned the prepared speech had had practice for a week. "Countess Venali," He said. "Welcome to-"
"Ooh!" It was not a large sound, or even a moderately loud sound, but the countess' sudden exclamation was enough to send his train of thought sailing off into distraction, especially with what she said next. "Your legs! You have such gorgeous legs for a man! I reckon you have no idea of this, but men usually have such awful legs- oh! Where did they go?"
Vaoris hadn't realized he had stepped back. His shyness had taken over for him, directing his instincts. He suddenly found that his mind was totally blank. He could not summon a single thought on what he should do. In desperation, he tried the speech again.
"Er, your Grace, welcome to-" This attempt went just about as well as the first.
"Oh, come now." The countess broke in. "You can just call me Veela, Mr. Vaoris. I'm not going to be formal with a handsome fellow such as yourself."
Before he could even begin to process the compliment, she swept forward and took his arm in a single, practiced motion, winking at him. He felt his face warm as he fell into step beside her, hating himself for the reaction. He could not remember any time that he had ever been this close to a female, and he did not have the slightest idea what to do. This did not seem to disturb her in the slightest. "How cute! Now, are you showing me in or not? This sun is terrible for my skin don't you know, and I haven't brought a parasol! How silly of me!"
For another moment, Vaoris could do nothing but stare, his mind making small choking noises as he struggled for something, some kind of solid ground on which to stand. Finally, he noticed that the coun- Veela had been speaking the Ancient Language with a strong accent, a way of varying the cadence and shortening certain consonants that he knew was familiar... Saxon! That was it. Veela, at some point, had picked up a Saxon accent. That was unusual. Foreigners, if his research was correct, were distrusted by default, and very rarely worked themselves into a position of advantage.
With that line of thought, he found his solid ground. The gears of his mind caught with a satisfied clunk, and he was suddenly in possession of himself. That's how you're doing it. You're gathering knowledge, like always.
"Of... course!" He responded finally, willing for his throat to open fully again. He tried smiling broadly, and that seemed to do the trick, freeing his vocal cords for him to gratefully use. "I've been told to make sure you are comfortable during all parts of your stay, so if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."
And I'll then proceed to hope desperately that I know where to find it. He didn't add.
With that, her arm still clasping his, he turned and led her through the doors and into the Library.

When the Grand Library was first built, back in the dusty corridors of the past, Vaoris was rather sure that it had been built with distinguished visitors in mind. The main stairs at the front were there for one purpose alone; to make sure that the first glimpse of the interior of the building was the grandest. Vaoris had seen it countless times before, and it still sometimes took his breath away. Now, with an elven countess on his arm, he had a feeling that it would be even better.
The short hall beyond the doors bland and dark. Intentionally so. After a moment, they passed through a high archway into a soft, golden light. Vaoris knew that he was now standing on an extended entrance balcony, with the stairs to the main floor leading down on either side. He also knew what he would see next, looking outward from the balcony, would be absolutely stunning.
He was right.
It was.

They were looking at the interior of the rotunda, spanning six floors above them and one below. In the center of the expanse of floor beneath them, the tastefully arranged grove of trees transplanted from Du Weldenvarden provided scale to the space. It was absolutely huge. This grove was always one of Vaoris' favorite places to read. There were several footpaths winding through it, studded with benches where someone could sit and think and be alone. The song of birds could always be heard from this space, and Vaoris had become friends with nearly all of the animals that chose to live within those trees. Above and beyond this, the rotunda soared upward to the vaulted crystal roof through which the golden autumn sunlight radiated, supported by seven massive stone pillars, each of which where spiraled with the staircases to access each floor. The entire space was one of arches and golden leaves, glinting with marble and silver and gold. Here and there, scholars could be seen, moving slowly back and forth, or lingering with a shelf to read a scroll.
Vaoris took a deep breath, savoring the scent of dust and wet leaves that always permeated the place, the smell that brought back the vivid events of his childhood.
Here, he was home.
He turned to Veela, smiling his most genuine and sincere smile, finally able to say what he had been trying to say in the first place.
"Veela," He said, "Welcome to the Grand Library."

[/blockquote]

[Emma]

I eagerly clung to Vaoris’s arm as I settled myself beside him, noticing for the first time how short he was. Not dwarfishly so, but he was still a good inch smaller than me. I pursed my lips in disappointment, allowing my eyes to rove over him once more before settling on his face. His expression immediately cheered me up. It was a mixture of utter shock and speechlessness, and his eyes were focussed on my face. I beamed right back at him. It wasn’t uncommon that a man was so dumbfounded by my beauty that he needed a little while to regain his composure. I waited patiently, a large smile on my lips.

“Of… course!” he finally blurted out in the rather boring Alagaësian accent. It had taken me a long time to understand it, the way they sounded out every single word. At least Vaoris didn’t have the nasal aspect that many Alagaësians did, though. That was a start. “I’ve been told to make sure you are comfortable during all parts of your stay, so if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Brilliant!” I squealed. “I do hope you’re used to serving us important people. I can be very picky, and this corset needs constant- ooh!”

I hadn’t realized Vaoris gently but firmly pulling me through the enormous doors and into a hallway- one that was so badly lighted and entirely boring that I would have complained about it if I hadn’t seen the next room. Once we were through the uninteresting bit, we passed an arch and entered the library itself. My mouth fell open in an entirely undignified manner as I gazed out at the grove of enormous trees and chattering animals, and saw the shelves and shelves and shelves of books and scrolls and who knew what else occupied by unfortunately-clad scholars just like my Vaoris.

“Veela,” said Vaoris grandiosely, “welcome to the Grand Library.”
“Mr. Vaoris! It’s bloody- ooh, pardon my language- so very brilliant!” I half-jumped on him, making him stumble sideways as I grabbed his sides and pulled him closer to me. “Forget the scrolls! You should show me everything! You know what, you seem like the trusting sort, so I’ll let you in a little secret.” I leaned in close. “People…” I glanced around to make sure no one heard me, “… think I’m stupid. Can you imagine? Me, Countess Venali, stupid?”
“I… couldn’t possibly,” said Vaoris nervously.
“They’re just jealous, naturally. How often do you see a blonde? And not dirty blonde, blonde blonde, like me.” I released him and twirled around, showing off my hair. “Although I’m not as smart as my sister. That’s why she handles ruling Ceunon. Imagine how impressed she’ll be, and all those horrible women in court, when I know so many brilliant things!” I snatched his arm again. “Now, show me!”
“Um, er, right this way, Veela,” he stuttered.

He took me down the steps graciously, making me feel like the wife of a great king- until I looked at his outfit again. I curled my lip and glared. I would have to convince Rusalka to let me invite him to Castle Ceunon one day and get him into some decent clothing. Grey was so unbecoming against his pale skin, not to mention his hair was already jet black. It made him look sickly when he was beautiful. However, as we reached the bottom of the steps, I was distracted by the library once more. My mouth hung slightly ajar again as I gazed up at the massive shelves, stepping towards them slowly.

“Well, Veela, we have many texts to choose from. If you’re interested in history, we have-”
“Mr. Vaoris, if I wanted to know history, I’d have paid attention to my tutor back in Saxony!” I escaped his grip, bolting towards the books. “Let’s read about beautiful princesses and handsome knights…”
“Your Grace…” I heard Vaoris break into a gallop behind me. “Your Grace, we need to be quiet…”
“Or…” I paused and glanced back at him, a deadly smirk on my face. “Even handsomer scholars!”

He froze, staring at me. I sighed and turned away, throwing my hands up.

“I mean, I reckon there has to be some originality sometimes, right? It can’t always be the ones in shining armour who are the heroes!”
“I suppose not…”
“Or,” I gasped, “or something else.” I turned back to Vaoris as he finally caught up to me. “You have everything here, dontcha?”
“In terms of genre?” he immediately asked.
“No, silly! As in the different styles and categories.”
“Well, actually, that’s the definition of…” he broke off when he saw my raised eyebrow. I didn’t like being questioned. “… I mean, yes. We have works of history, as I said, and fiction, drama, biographies, phylogenies…”
“And erotica?” I asked excitedly.
“… accountings, narrat- I- what?”
“Now, don’t be coy, Mr. Vaoris.” I leaned in close to him. “All this writing, someone must have gotten bored and added a bit of naughtiness.” As I spoke, I noticed Vaoris blushing with increasing intensity. “You’ve hidden it, perhaps? There’s a back room of sorts, isn’t there?- oh, what a lovely shade of vermillion you’re sporting. I really do need to get some clothing in that colour.” I turned away towards the enormous groves, my hands up in the air. “Come on, then! Where’s all the SEX?”

There were several young scholars sitting in the shade of a massive pine tree, and they all simultaneously stared at me, and then at Vaoris. Then they burst into excited whispers.

“Veela…” came Vaoris’s voice, and a careful hand was laid across my shoulder. I turned to look at him, my lips pouted in confusion. “Why don’t we go see Ceunon’s scrolls first, and come back here later?”
“Oh, have it your way,” I sighed, tossing my head before remembering that my hair was up. “You Alagaësians are so painfully shy. It’s not an attractive trait!”

Words;; 1000 exactly again!
Muse;; Sleepy, but good.
Thoughts;; Too much dialogue! Otherwise, it's fine. x3

[Angmor]

The expression on her face made it all worth it. Vaoris had seen many like it on the faces of many people, from lowly servants to mighty Riders, but the difference this time was that he was now the one opening the door. Even better was the beatific, totally unguarded look of child-like wonder on Veela's face, the way her huge brown eyes darted here and there, desperate to take everything in. Taking advantage of her sudden docility, he led her slowly and dignitarily down the stairs, feeling almost as if he was attending a ball with a beautiful maiden on his arm. The feeling faded when he caught sight of the her studying his outfit with obvious distaste. He sighed imperceptibly. It was funny how perspective changed. Ten minutes before, he would have thought he was turned out grandly. Now, against the splendour of Veela's gown, he felt as poor as a Broddring dirt-farmer.
Oh, get over it. He told himself sternly. You did the best you could. Besides, it's not what's on the outside that counts.
Unless he was very much mistaken, he was the more intelligent one of the two.
If that's the case, then why is she managing to befuddle you so? He wondered.
His supposedly superior intellect offered no answer.

Finally, they reached the ring of stone floor that lay between the grove and the passages to the rest of the Library, their feet crunching on the scattering of dead leaves that always escaped the bounderies of the trees. As they stepped off the stairs, Veela broke away gracefully, wandering forward as if in a dream. Vaoris just watched, smiling. It was beautiful to behold, watching another discover the wonder and joy involved with the glories of collected knowledge. He considered just slipping away into the trees, to let her bask in the feeling on her own... And, of course, allowing him a moment to compose himself and lay to rest all of the unruly, unfamiliar feelings swirling through his gut.
But no. He had a job to do, and leaving her alone would not be the way to go about it.
Might as well speed this tour along, then...
He cleared his throat. "Well Veela," He said, wishing his voice was deeper and more melodious. "We have many texts to choose from. If you're interested in history, we have..."
She turned, fixing him with an angelic gaze that seemed to fill his mouth with sand, cutting off whatever it was he had been about to say...
"Mr. Vaoris," She said, smiling vastly. "If wanted to know history, I'd have paid attention to my tutor back in Saxony!" She finished brightly before turning and jogging toward the shelves, her slippers clacking delicately against the floor.
Vaoris was left behind, blinking owlishly as his mind processed her words.
She wasn't interested in history? That one fact eliminated a good half of the archives right there. He could not imagine not being interested in history. History was, after all, the basis for knowledge, the shared experience of all sentient races. All those who did not learn from history were doomed to repeat it. So how could someone not be interested?
He was roused from his stupor as his ears were filled with Veela's accented words as they echoed around the rotunda.
"Let's read about beautiful princesses and handsome knights..."
Vaoris inhaled sharply, glancing upward. Sure enough, several scholars had noticed, looking down into the caldera to see what the commotion was about. It was probably the first raised voice to be heard within the Library for a hundred years. "Your grace..." He broke into a jog after her, still watching his superiors for signs of disapproval. "Your grace, we have to be quiet..."
"Or..." She said, rounding suddenly with an equally beatific smile on her face. "Even handsommer scholars!"

Vaoris skidded to a halt, feeling as if his heart had stopped.

It was a totally reasonable, comment, he knew, but the implications of it sent shockwaves through him. Was she… flirting with him?
It would make a certain kind of sense, considering many of her previous behaviors toward him. But the trouble was, there was no way to be sure. He had no samples of flirting that he could compare to.
Veela sighed, gesturing gracefully. “I mean, I reckon there has to be some originality sometimes, right? It can’t always be the ones in shining armour who are the heroes!”
“I suppose not…” Vaoris answered to buy time while he tried to frame a statement on how he was most definitely not a hero.
“Or, or something else.” She said, cutting off the thought.“You have everything here, dontcha?”
Ah, a question he could answer. Vaoris seized the opportunity. “In terms of genre?”
“No, silly! As in the different styles and categories.”
“Well, actually, that’s the definition of…” The retort had spring into his head fully formed, right down to an explanation as to how the word had developed from its root source and a list of pseudonyms. It was only after seeing the expression on her face that he remembered the enormous gulf between her rank and his.
“… I mean, yes.” He said by way of a recovery. “We have works of history, as I said, and fiction, drama, biographies, phylogenies…”
“And erotica?”
It took a moment before he noticed the feeling of a sandbag hitting him squarely in the back of the head. “… accountings, narrat- I- what?”

Vaoris felt all the moisture drain from his mouth. And to think, he had just believed he was in control of the situation…
“Now, don’t be coy, Mr. Vaoris.” He stiffened as she leaned in close, evoking memories of a book he had once read about how predators could smell the fear of their prey. “All this writing, someone must have gotten bored and added a bit of naughtiness.”
He tried to speak, to try to summon some kind of defense against this madness, but all of his thoughts seemed drowned out by the pounding of his pulse in his ears. Veela carried on, undeterred.
“You’ve hidden it, perhaps? There’s a back room of sorts, isn’t there?- oh, what a lovely shade of vermillion you’re sporting. I really do need to get some clothing in that colour.” She whirled, wandering further toward the center of the rotunda. “Come on, then! Where’s all the SEX?”

The final word, of course spoken with all the clear projection and annunciation of a stage actor, echoed around the archives like a rampaging dragon, taking several seconds before at last dying out, leaving a silence in its wake so profound, Vaoris felt like he was buried up to his neck in it, unable to act. At that moment, he wished for nothing more than the ability to use advanced and arcane magic, because he would have used it right then to make the earth swallow him up. It was rather a nice thought. If only he was strong enough, he would sing himself into the foundations of the archives, to be a part of his beloved home forever…
Just then, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, finding a group of even younger scholars, who had been studying amid the shade of the trees a moment before, breaking away from their texts to stare at Veela.
And at him.
He knew each of those students. He had been here when they had arrived. He had become friends with most of them, and they looked up at him as an older brother. And now there they sat, listening with tender ears as the important countess he was responsible for rambled on about… that. It was this thought that unlocked his limbs, allowing him to take a step forward and, hoping it would not be too bold, lay a hand on his charge’s bare shoulder. “Veela…” He struggled for something to say, something that would put this horrid mess back in the unassuming box from which it had come. “Why don’t we go see Ceunon’s scrolls first, and come back here later?”
Yes, that would be it. Just get her way from the most public area, that would certainly be a help…
“Oh, have it your way,” She sighed expansively, adopting a long-suffering air as she flicked her head in a gesture whose meaning he could only guess.“You Alagaësians are so painfully shy. It’s not an attractive trait!”
“Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

It took a second for Vaoris to realize that it had been him who had spoken. He blinked once, surprised at his own boldness in openly talking back to nobility. The words had simply tumbled from his mouth on their own accord.
And continued to tumble.
“I’m sorry your grace, but while I don’t know what it’s like in Ceunon, but here in Ilirea we have certain social standards, some of which include things that are not talked about in public.”
Alright Vaoris, stop now. You’ve already in a deep hole, so stop digging… Even though he knew it was true, he still couldn’t sum up the willpower to close his mouth. After all, who was she, to come in here and prance around like she owned the place while spouting off societal anathemas, comparing the Grand Library to some purveyor of lurid back alley material? No, she might have been a countess of a powerful city, capable of crushing his career like a beetle under her heel, but he was an apprentice scholar. It was up to him to defend the archive against her trashy ideas. After all, the Grand Library had stood for thousands of years before Veela Venali was born, and it would stand for thousands of years after her lifetime.
The only catch was that he would be considerably easier to pull down.
“One of those things,” He continued, unimpeded by any of these thoughts. “Is erotic literature. The very idea is vile and repulsive. Even worse, there are young ears present. Some of the apprentices around here are as young as thirty, and do not need to have their fragile minds sullied by such thoughts. The Grand Library is a very old establishment, dedicated to the preservation and collation of knowledge. It is not place for lurid entertainment.”
Well, it had been a good career. Sixty years as apprentice had been some of the best times of his life. He tried to gather up all of those memories in one place, so that they could always be held in mind before the retribution that was sure to fall squarely on his head after this. He supposed he would probably become a stable assistant. Or a tanner, or a latrine attendant. Something that involved severe olfactory distress. All the same, he discovered he wasn’t sorry.
“And so, to answer your question,” He finished, feeling his face burn. “We do not have erotica here. Is there something else you would like to see?”

[/blockquote]

[Emma]

“Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

That, and the next words that came spouting out of Vaoris’s mouth, made me blink and stare openly at him. His face went from the amusing blush of an embarrassed young man to the crimson of an infuriated elf- an expression that was not usually seen. I watched him tremble and sputter and speak to me as if I was a very badly behaved child that had made a mess. He entirely overreacted to my very natural question, and I wondered, with growing excitement, exactly how a dusty old library full of things only the most boring of individuals could make a man so wonderfully, fantastically angry.

“And so, to answer your question, we do not have erotica here. Is there something else you would like to see?”

The slap echoed straight to the glass rotunda. And then a second, and a third, and a fourth and a fifth, and then I decided that I would risk permanently injuring his incredibly attractive face if I did any more to him. I paused with my right hand inches from his face, which was now turned away in fear of the oncoming blows, his left cheek bright red. I dropped my hand as I sucked in a breath, glaring at him. I gnashed my teeth and widened my eyes and focussed on things that made me angry, like ruined dresses, until his face went completely white and he was wincing in obvious fear of what I could do to him.

“It’s a pity.” I surprised myself with the snarl in my voice, but it worked, so I moved on. “I was just beginning to like you, Vaoris Son-of-None. If this were Ceunon, and my sister were here, I would have her run you through with that sabre of hers and stick your fat head on the city wall for all to see! Disgusting, isn’t it? And a bit overkill, but you see how angry you’ve made me!” He trembled visibly, prompting me to continue. “But it’s not, and you are obviously in need of some enlightenment, which I will give to you. You, sir, are, a disgrace to your Bland Library.”

He was utterly shocked. My mouth trembled, and then I burst out laughing.

“You’re so cute when you’re terrified! I just want to squeeze you like my teddy bear… oh! Come here!” He didn’t even react when I leapt forward and enveloped him in a hug. “You know I didn’t mean all that! It’s the tenth century, who actually sticks people’s heads on pikes anymore? Why did that disgusting practice even start up? But anyway, you’re positively delicious when you’re angry! How would you react to a book burning, I wonder? But enough about that; I want to see the scrolls now!”
“Er… um… it’s, um, this way, Veela.”

He motioned towards a grand circular stairwell that led to the upper floors of the Grand Library, in particular to a smaller set of lower steps that likely led into the undercroft of the building. I released Vaoris from the hug and blew him a suggestive kiss before marching off towards the stairs, my flat-heels echoing softly against the polished floor. I made my way down the steps with great care, despite these being notably evener than the ones in Castle Ceunon. After a moment, Vaoris joined me and awkwardly offered his arm, which I immediately took and hugged, letting him lead me down them.

I was met with a very interesting view as we arrived at the Library’s basement. Many scholars of widely varying ages were collected around wooden tables, bent over very ancient parchments and doing the strangest things to them. Rolled-up mouldy ones were held over small fires and opened with excruciating care with the help of metal prongs. Manuscripts that had been torn into pieces were put together again under a lens, and at least one person at every table was copying out the writings, which were in various languages. Vaoris looked at them all like they were old friends.

“This, your Grace,” he said ecstatically, “is where we restore damaged-”
“Oh!” I wailed. “Oh, I think I’ve tripped…”
Vaoris made an enormous show of nearly tripping himself as he strived to catch me. I dramatically fell backwards into his arms, passing a hand over my forehead.
“How silly of me!” I squeaked. “Weak ankles, you know.” I raised a leg, letting the dress fall slightly off it and rendering it bare. I wiggled it and did my best to smother a giggle as he gawked openly at it.
“Now, don’t stare, Mr. Vaoris. It’s not very polite!”

Words;; 775
Muse;; Good!
Thoughts;; A bit short, but it was great fun nonetheless. XD

[Angmor]

Vaoris stood at the top of the stairs, watching his charge gingerly scaling the steps. It was strikingly similar to the situation when he had first met her, and yet now it was entirely different. Before, he had been watching another rational, thinking being like himself, and wondering what their interactions would be like. Now he was keeping a wary eye on a strange, unpredictable predator, one that might tear him to pieces or start purring against his shoulder at any given moment. Despite this, his mind was very clear, preoccupied with one question, and one question alone;
What just happened?

His cheek stung. While her repeated blows hadn’t really been all that painful, but the shear unexpectedness of it made it hurt far more. Even worse, he could not get the image out of his mind, that surreal transition from barely contained rage to joyous laughter. It was an image he was sure was going to come back in some twisted nightmare during a dark, stormy night. He simply could not fathom it. If she was still amiable with him, why bother with the outburst in the first place? Surely, there had to be some logical reason... He stopped.
Could it be that, just maybe, this was also a part of the flirtatious behavior?
If so, that would be… odd.
Right then. He thought, doing his best to gather himself up. First chance, I’m going to need to read up on this romance business. It was then that it occurred to him that such a thing would probably qualify as erotica.
Which, of course, the library did not have.
Oh, wonderful. Irony strikes again.

With a jolt, he realized that her dramatically blonde hairstyle was bobbing further and further away. For a moment he hovered in indecision… But no, confused or not, he still had a job to do. He had to see it through. Steeling himself, he hurried down the stairs, the flutter of his robe creating an air current in the confined space as he rushed to catch up with her. As he did, she flashed a totally tactless smile over her shoulder, as if nothing had happened. Unsure what else to do, Vaoris defaulted to what he knew worked, offering his arm. As before, she took it gleefully. He only just stopped himself from shying away from her sudden movement. He forced down the instinct, instead occupying himself composing a possible mental field-guide for this sort of situation.

Chapter 1:

The female is an erratic creature. This fact must be clearly understood if one is to having dealings with them. What motivates a female elf does not match those of any other creature. In fact, it can be argued that such motivations are entirely inscrutable to the common man. As such, precautions need be taken, if one is to survive.
Firstly, simply avoid female contact. This is the only sure method for avoiding danger. Simply stay out of harm’s way. Sometimes this may be difficult, but stand firm. Even if, theoretically, you are afforded the supposed honor of escorting a countess, find a way to refuse. Feign sick, or even cause yourself a true injury. Just find some excuse for…
Just then, a smell entered his perception, a smell that instantly calmed him with memories of comfort and safety, of joy and fun. A smell of soap, oaken shelving, and old parchment.
A smell of home.

The sight that greeted him on the final flight of stairs was just as familiar and welcoming. The rows of sturdy, polished tables arranged under pools of light from the mirror system, the smaller, less ornate architecture, but most of all, the scholars moving to and fro, the buzz of their restrained excitement filling the air. Vaoris loved it down here. There was always a subliminal sense of something very important happening, a feeling of purpose that buoyed up his soul. This was the preservation room, the place where the older texts were taken to be rehabilitated, and the ones that were beyond repair painstakingly copied onto a new parchment so that the knowledge would survive. Here also was where new texts were taken, to assess whether or not they would be important enough to be included in the archives. Of course, they almost always were. There was very little knowledge that did not deserve to be preserved, which was why anyone turning in a lost text or book on the promise of the moderate monetary reward seldom went away disappointed. On occasion, wanders would bring in parchments that were so old and moldy that they could not be opened without damage. And that was when things really got exciting.

Vaoris cleared his throat. This, your Grace,” he said, “is where we restore damaged-” Before he could finish, the weight on his arm gave a sudden lurch, pulling him off balance.
“Oh! Oh, I think I’ve tripped…”
By pure accident, Vaoris ended up in position to catch Veela as fainted backwards, hand against her forehead in exactly the way swooning maidens were illustrated in books. He found himself face to face with the countess in a thoroughly odd upside-down angle, her enormous brown eyes smiling up at him, showing a rather suspicious lack of pain or surprise at her position. “How silly of me!” She said. “Weak ankles, you know.”
At that, she lifted her skirt slightly, revealing the offending limb.
Considerably more of it than was necessary, Vaoris thought.
“Now, don’t stare, Mr. Vaoris. It’s not very polite!”
To his own surprised, he realized that staring had been exactly what he was doing. He looked away, feeling his face burn yet again.
“I… I’m…..." He stuttered lamely, feeling rather like his thoughts had been replaced with a hive of particularly agitated bees. "We... You..."
“Vaoris!”

For the rest of his days, he would be unsure how he managed not to drop Veela ignominiously onto the floor at the sudden voice behind him, but somehow he managed it. Looking over his shoulder, he found found Cite, another apprentice in the restoration department, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Typically of the older elf, whose thoughts were made entirely of parchment and mold, his face gave no sign whatever that he even noticed Veela's presence, much less her current state.
"Vaoris, come quick!" He said again. "We're about to open that scroll! Master Vanir needs you!"
Ah, a lifeline. Vaoris grabbed it.
Not only did it provide an escape from this situation, it also cut off the possibility of Veela objecting. She might have been the countess of an important city, but Master Vanir was the head scholar of Ilirea. Whatever he requested, Vaoris would obey, even if he wasn't under attack.

Very carefully he drew himself up, supporting Veela until both of her feet were planted solidly on the stone. "We're getting ready to open an old scroll." He explained as he did so. "They need me to help open it. I have very steady hands. I shouldn't be more than..."
"Hurry up!" Cite broke in. "They're waiting!"
Throwing a half-apologetic smile at Veela, Vaoris turned and followed Cite in a half-jog, heading toward a table at the far end of the room, where half a dozen scholars were waiting. As he reached them, he felt the cold vice around his guts that had planted itself there when he first heard Veela's voice gradually release its hold, leaving him with a clarity of mind that was almost heavenly. He took a deep breath as he merged with the assembled elves, not even bothering to look into their faces as one of them handed him his tools. He knew the faces of each and every one, and he knew just what to expect from them. Safe ground.

At last, he found his way to the foot of the table, stepping into the pool of harsh light, his eyes alighting on the current center of attention; the scroll itself.
It was beautiful.
Most people, he knew, would not find beauty in a cracked and blackened roll of mold-gripped parchment, but to anyone who made their lives in the Grand Library, it was the very masterpiece of life. Vaoris especially saw not only a masterpiece, but a challenge. In his younger days, when it was being determined what part of the archives he would be apprenticed, it was discovered that he possessed remarkably steady hands. In fact, after many lost bets in games of dexterity, it became a running joke that his hands were actually chemically inert. This skill was a great asset for opening fragile scrolls, and operation where a single twitch could result in a gaping rent in the material. However, Vaoris found he did not have the patience for the rest of the process, such as the cleaning and the painstaking copying. And so, years later, he was apprenticed elsewhere, but was often called in to lend his rock-steady hands to a particularly difficult restoration.

Vaoris did not look at two scholars that would be assisting him. They had all done this a hundred times, so there was no need for strategizing or bantering. After weeks of painstaking preparation, it all came down to this final, tricky procedure. Vaoris took in a slow breath to steady himself, holding his hands before him like a maestro about to conduct an orchestra. Good, no tremors. Not even the slightest twitch. That was somewhat surprising, considering what his nervous system had been subjected to over the past few minutes...
No, don't think about that. Focus. Breathe...
He hefted the tools experimentally. His part of the operation was done with a pair of thin steel probes, much like those that professional thieves used as lockpicks. He had gotten to be familiar with every one that the archive posessed, each one having their own subtle differences in weight and balance. Good. His favorite set. Finally, letting out a small breath, he went to work.

It was often somewhat anticlimactic, considering all the preparation. Very carefully, Vaoris inserted the thin ends of the picks into the sides of the scroll, maneuvering so that the ends were just overlapping at the very center of the parchment's width. Then, ever so slowly, he began to peel apart the layers, beginning to painstakingly unroll the paper one millimeter at a time. Vaoris loved this part. As inch after inch of parchment was loosed, he reveled in the feeling that was known well by anyone who was good at what they did. The focus required for this task made the rest of the world disappear. He did not notice one of his assistants holding one end of the scroll, making sure that it did not snap back on itself and shatter under the impact. He did not even notice when he had to pause and wait for the other to clear away from sticky substance with a small blade. He did his part, and did it well.

At last, the final row became separated, leaving the scroll flat on the table. Instantly, every scholar looking on let out communal sigh of relief, followed by scattered applause and laughter of released tension. Vaoris let his arms drop with a satisfied sigh, at last allowing himself to smile. This was always the best part. While he did not think of himself as someone prone to a swollen head, who didn’t enjoy a little praise for something they were good at?
One of the scholars who had been assisting him smiled kindly, laying a warm hand on his shoulder. “Well done, my boy. That was your best one yet.”
While he had not noticed before, Vaoris instantly knew who the voice belonged to, and the realization was like a jolt of energy down his spine.
“Master Vanir!” He almost shouted in surprise. “I’m sorry, ebrithil. I did not notice you were there.” It was not all that uncommon an occurrence, actually. Far from the grandiose vision of an elven scholar, there was nothing particularly noteworthy about Vanir’s appearance, beyond his obviously advancing years. No one knew for sure, but it was rumored that the old scholar had once been an assassin in his younger days, an avid pawn in the Great Game. Vaoris would have believed it, if it wasn’t for Vanir’s fatherly manner toward all of the younger scholars, and especially to him.
“Oh, I really shouldn’t be here.” Vanir said, still smiling. “But I can’t let all of you young fiends have all the fun. And anyway, I can hardly blame you for having a lot on your mind.”
Vaoris hadn’t had much on his mind, actually. He had managed to forget it over the course of opening the scroll. But immediately on Vanir’s words, all the weight that should have been there fell back into place with a solid thunk, mimicking the single panicked beat of his heart against his ribs.
Oh gods. Where is Veela?

[/blockquote]

[Emma]

The wind, I noticed, was particularly volatile this afternoon.

It was currently tossing a few loose strands of hair across my face and threatening to snatch my hat away. Debris rattled along the street and was flung into the air, blowing past the carriage. The driver next to me took no notice. Masema was one of those no-nonsense men from Teirm, dark-eyed and grim. He sat with the reins and whip clenched in a yellow glove, a lit pipe between his teeth. Though we were perfectly free of danger now that we had arrived in Ilirea, I understood his caution. The metallic tang of blood still filled my mouth.

We were disguised as a simple delivery wagon, drawn by two shiny bay horses and our load covered with a grey tarp. I likely didn’t even pass as a woman in my officer’s regalia and brimmed gentleman’s hat, which was pulled so far down over my face that only my chin and lips showed. Travellers that preferred to keep to themselves and strange loads were apparently the stuff of daily life, apparently- we did not receive so much as a second glance, and were waved through the gate without issue. For being the most despised city on the continent, Ilirea was oddly carefree about it.

However, I was here for a far more important reason than glaring at scholars. I was simply going to find Veela and those papers she was seeing. She’d likely arrived some hours earlier for several scrolls detailing Ceunon’s age-old founding, and a few apparently shocking details that came along with it. As I had been indisposed- the official records had stated that I was off to see a suitor in Osilon that was interested in me, when really I’d gone to Teirm for dealings with the Hive. The end result had not been pleasant, resulting in bloodshed on my part and a hasty retreat.

And here I was, in the city of cowards. I really should have headed straight to Ceunon, but I felt like playing hooky today. On top of that, surrounded by books and scholars, she’d be bored out of her skull. And when Veela got bored, she never failed to let everyone know about it, whether they were King Azuan himself or a blind beggar. Ilirea was certainly clinging to its last rope, but the Riders had far more power than Broddring and Du Weldenvarden. I would do well not to have them on my bad side.

The wagon passed the ivory gate leading into the Citadel and came to a shuddering halt outside a smaller, comparatively less impressive building that was the Grand Library. I stepped down carefully, hand on the basket-hilt sabre at my left hip. I looked up at Masema once I was standing on the cobblestones. He rolled the pipe in his mouth, gave me a meaningful stare, and then cracked the whip. I watched the wagon roll out of sight, leaving me alone before the open gate. Removing my hat, I strode towards the building.

I was wearing a men’s coat that went to my knees of the deepest navy blue with a high collar. Underneath the coat was a turtleneck white tunic and high-waisted grey breeches. I also had suede, dangerously heeled black boots that reached my thighs, and on my hands I had put on short white cavalry gloves. My hat was simple- made of deep blue felt and rimmed, I held it in my hands. My hair had started out groomed and flawless, but now it hung in a more casual messy updo- most of my ebony locks had been collected into a low, loose ponytail that formed a loop with a few pieces left untied to frame my face.

I took the steps three at a time, trying to remember the name of the man who would be escorting Veela. His name began with a V- what was it, Vanir? I was unable to grasp it. I had gotten a physical description that made up for it, though- small, pale, and skinny even for an elf, with dark hair and light eyes. He was also very young, somewhere in his eighties. That couldn’t be too difficult to point out. Ignoring the looks I got from the few elves sitting outside, I walked through the open doors of the Library.

I had been to Ilirea many, many times, and had seen more than enough beautiful buildings in my lifetime. The Grand Library, with its massive central garden and high ceilings with carefully patterned windows to unify the light within was nothing new to me. I searched among the many faces as I strode into the main hall until my gaze fell on one young man in particular. He matched the V description perfectly, and looked terrified. He was milling around the bookshelves and glancing in and between them- almost as if he’d lost something.

It took him a long moment to notice me. I said nothing, just to see how much longer it would take. Finally, when he turned his head in my direction, he sort of gawked. I smiled back at him pleasantly. He looked left, right, and then scurried towards me.

“Hello,” he said quickly as he stopped a respectable distance away from me. “Can I help you, Miss…?”
“Rusalka,” I stated. He didn’t see any resemblance to Veela in me, and he didn’t react to my first name. The silly mood I was in decided to take this little slice of information and run with it. “That’s Rusalka Venali, Countess of Ceunon. I’ll have a salute, if you please…” The many confused emotions across his face made me beam as he raised a hand to his forehead. “Lovely, thank you. Simply pulchritudinous, this Library of yours. Dazzling. Now, to avoid beating around the bush any longer, so to speak, would you happen to know the whereabouts of my sister, Veela? I was under the assumption that you, er… Vaoris, yes, are escorting her for the day. However, I notice that you are not escorting a soul, by happenstance. Care to enlighten me?”

Words;; 1020
Muse;; Total. Bull.
Thoughts;; It took three hours, my family wouldn't leave me alone, and I'm in a terrible mood, which all equal a BAD POST.