Truly, Emile did care for the family she had gained several years ago. They cared for her, something she had never experienced before. Her human ‘parents’ had never been suited for raising a child and made their resentment clear, Emile had no siblings and very - if any - friends growing up. It made the influx of love difficult to process, especially from some of her more social relatives.
It was why she had been retreating to her room, trying to escape the boisterous Cavan and his childe Antonia. Too loud, too excitable, too sunny (Well, Antonia was anyway.). It was exhausting for her; she preferred her own company, peace to enjoy her books and music.
She had just got some new books delivered - Ivan kept trying to convince her to go to the book store, but really what was the point when this was so much more convenient? - and she was looking forward to beginning them… as much as she looked forward to anything nowadays.
All of that went out the window when she stepped into somewhere that was decidedly NOT her room. Emile’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
At first she thought she might’ve been dreaming, but running a finger over the covered scars on her forearm, feeling the way her skin rose and fell, told her otherwise. This place was huge, unfamiliar. Some kind of… warehouse? Archive? Museum? She had no idea, but there was a lot of… stuff.
And a man talking to her, a hand outstretched towards her. Emile stared at it, at him. She just wanted her books.
Neal’s smile didn’t drop even with the woman’s clear puzzlement. It wasn’t the first and it certainly wouldn’t be the last that somebody showed such confusion in being brought into the Repository. Few knew of its existence before they ended up in this place, after all. Most visitors were completely unaware of it beforehand.
“The Repository,” he stated again. “Think of it as a living museum for all the worlds magical items to be stored safely so they don’t fall into the wrong hands and cause oh, I don’t know, world ending events.” He paused for a moment, putting his hands behind his back and rocking forward slightly onto his toes. “And I do mean alive. The building has a mind of its own and it controls everything in here. Nobody gets in without it bringing them here and they must meet certain criteria. I suppose it took a liking to you.”
A small typewriter that was placed in one corner of the desk began to clack to life, the ding announcing the page was done sounded in the space just a few moments later. Neal ripped the page out and examined it a moment. “Ah, the Repository would like me to give you the tour now. I suppose I’m taking a bit too long with introductions for its liking. For a building, it can be surprisingly sassy and demanding.” Neal shrugged. “That’s bosses for you, though, I suppose.”
He tossed the paper and made to move down one of the halls. “Care to come with me, miss...?” Another opportunity for a name to be given though he wouldn’t push if she let it drop again. The Repository knew it already though and would deposit a visitor’s badge for her later on Neal’s desk. Still, he preferred to give people an opening to tell him themselves.
It seemed more polite that way.
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