Our flaws are facts, not our fates
Plotted || Soren
A heavy oak smell wafts through the air, accented with lingering stands of paper and leather. The neatly ordered spins line the shelves like planted orchard, each one shinning in their own right, yet together they create a truly heart shaking specticle.
Nyx carefully traces her finger over the books, making sure every title is in its own dedicated spot. The work is monotonous and boring, yet, as she works, Nyx can't help but hum softly to herself, immersed completely in her own element.
Though repetitive and unstimulating, this peace trumps a scared battlefield. At times the antics from the children, and even the professors, can prove quite irksome, but it seems my divination joyfully correct.
During her verification of the bookshelves, empty slots in the shelves began to rear their heads. "Hmm... according to the inventory reference, a few books appear absent," she ruffles through a separate list of papers, "and they don't seem to be checked out either."
Her eyes scan around, only to be met with stagnant air and dusty shelves. Could a student be reading them in the library currently? Must I really patrol this entire library? I've been on my feet all afternoon. After a few moments and a few more intrusive thoughts, her laziness yields to her sense of duty.
Though the library is quite large, luckily there seem to be a few spots students like to frequent. After confirming the location of most of the missing books, she is just left with one remaining.
"Ah, 'Practical Purification and the Limits of Curses', this one was quite the read. I do wonder... what could posses a student to research such a dreary topic?"
The light filters through the windows, the only movement being shadows of leaves from the foliage outside. By such a hued location, lies a lone desk, and with it, a lone scholar.
Peering over his shoulder, she can see in fact, that this man had the last book she needed to find. Though, in his stature, the way his finger traced the pages, something about it all resonated within her. A quiet desire inked his fingertips. Similar to the one that has stained her hands.
"Is there anything you don't understand? This author is quite talented, but utterly fails when it comes to putting his genius on paper."
@senerist
soren is not a man who likes confessing to the gaps in his knowledge. Â he is an expert in many things, but in many more things he knows very little, and each little blank feels like a yawning ocean to admit. Â Thus, any attempt to fill these perceived canyons is a shameful act despite its necessity, and though soren is not surprised by the librarian's approach, he is no less resentful.
âStudent?â he spits the word out to himself.
he is reading a book on curses, and she is pointing out how obvious his is already.
Still, she speaks as though she's familiar with both the writing and the subject matter, so soren intends to swallow his pride and ask her for recommendations on further reading.
he intends to, but when he turns to address her politely, he finds himself understanding immediately why she's so familiar with the subject matter. Â Like him, she bears a significant marking on her face. Â Like him, she looks younger than her speech would imply.
But she is not like him.
It's a visceral feeling, when he meets another branded. Â It's as though a law of nature suddenly reveals itself to him - there is something innate and primal of the event of learning some one else is like him, and that is not happening here, nor did it happen upon her approach.
She is something else, but soren still understands her to be similar in some respect.
âi assume you're familiar with the author and subject?â soren responds. Â âDo you know of a better source for this information, or at least a deeper level of explanation?â













