@copperveins š library, the brownstone, new york
in nooks and crannies, in scribbled papers and drawn in notebooks, in notes left in the back of photos. people left impressions, marks. indentations on floorboards, inscriptions into wood, shoeprints on walls.
ever since he learned of the ones before them, conall had busied himself with making sense of it somehow; not just feel trapped in this place, guessing at every shadow and memory that surfaced.
and yet...
aside from the things they already saw, he found it hard to find enough clues to piece together the story of those who came before. no journals, no diaries, even books had little notes left on them.
no son of hermes to light the way for him.
didn't mean he wouldn't try unlocking some of those drawers, burrowing in until he was sure there was nothing to be found. he was pretty sure he was safe doing it at night, but at this point he ought to know better.
to be fair, it was better being caught trying to pick a lock by one of the others than by agnes herself.
"uh," he muttered, hands still for a second under the heavy wooden desk. blue eyes tracking noah in the half light. "i can explain."
