// ☾ ; STARTER CALL ⇢ @dreamkilling
THE BOOKS HERE ARE HER FRIENDS,  silent friends that don’t judge or take. They sometimes wound with words that pierce her heart, but are quick to stitch it back together again in a few short syllables. She has MEMORIZED the number of steps down each aisle; where a thousand worlds are stacked like winding catacombs, their tellers epitaph stamped across each spine. She’s happy here. Happy enough to beg for more hours late into the night. The bustle was LESS and the questions were few and far between. It cheered her considerably and put a spring in her step as she restocked the mighty shelves.
‘Can I help you find anything?’  it’s scrawled neatly and swiftly across a small chalkboard she carries, accompanied by a bright smile as the man wanders through the foyer. He could, of course, be seeking shelter from the rain ( the downpour RATTLED the ancient windows with each gust of wind and he certainly looked as though he had been caught in the thick of it ) but Ezra was nothing if not endlessly polite.Â
