#virmentis

                 he wonders, briefly, why anyone would buy books when there are libraries?

he wanders the shelves, admiring the many different print available for viewing and, if interested, buying. he stops in aisle, looking at the books with titles that... he recognizes. it seems writing from his world, about his world, have found there way here as well, and different genres, different authors, all here for one to view.

                            how does this world even obtain these books? 

                            how do they know?

he reaches for a book, one containing a book of poetry from masters of different eras, and begins to read, their words painting vivid imagery, or more accurately, returning memories of those places to him. when he hears footsteps, he lifts his head away from the text, observing the stranger with contemplative curiosity.

“hmm, are you... perhaps... interested in these texts?” he asks, not one to be afraid of starting random conversations. he smiles and laughs quietly, “ah, perhaps you’re only passing through -- if that’s the case, please, don’t mind this jiji.”

            IT   took her a shameful amount of time to locate a bookstore in this hellscape --- but now that she has, she might as well ask if she could pay rent and hole up here. There are two instances in which Aelin Galathynius can be found at her happiest: amid a symphony played by a live orchestra, and surrounded by books with unfamiliar titles. There’s so much to choose from, and she feels overwhelmed in the best possible way; if she had it in her, she might have cried. Music and words --- two gifts that spoke across classes, oceans, universes. The warmth is so profound that it colors her voice. 

                  ❝   I don’t even know where to start...   ❞

Ibaraki  was used to people staring at him, that was true. After all  he was rather notable, standing at his height of seven feet and being rather obviously  monstrous. However the intensity with which this stranger was peering at him was...notable.

    ❝ Couldn’t care less what gets on my clothes. I’ll go without if I have to.❞ Snorts the Oni whilst he unceremoniously retrieves the injured arm and rips the sleeve off at the elbow.  ❝ Never really concerned myself with staying clean and sanitary anyway. ❞ Was that supposed to be a condescending sneer? Perhaps. 

Lips peel back over pointed canines as Shuten bows his head and descends upon the opened gash. He’s quick and efficient with his work, tongue dragging through streaks of red and laving away any residue pooled and dripping off the human’s arm. Yet it seems, the more he samples, the greater the thirst.

Oh, how Shuten yearns for more.  

    “Isn’t it strange: no matter how many books we pull related to the city, the pages are missing, or absent concerning its history.”  Vlad’s eyebrows furrow slightly, perturbed at the idea. His voice was hushed. This only brought on more questions than answers. Clear, glacial eyes darted up to inspect the books on the table, then up toward the other man. “What have you found? ”

send a number for a hug! feel free to combine prompts. | accepting

She waits at the docks, just as she promised she would, peering at the deep water for any traces of the submarine to reappear. The sun was steadily falling over the horizon, leaving a brilliant orange hue in its descent. The last submarine from the Swirling Gulf was to arrive any moment now, but even so, the Zora champion worries. 

Her newfound companion claimed that he something he wanted to check on his own and that, given the number of people also visiting that day, it would not take so long. It would’ve been fine, certainly, but the couple of hours turned into the entire day– and the thought of him being left underwater for that long, even in a breathable facility, was a rise for concern. She could only imagine the sort of changes his body would experience being underwater for an extended period. She should’ve asked if he needed help. After all, she could breathe underwater (even if she hadn’t gone as far deep into the ocean as she wanted to admit).

A soft light forms from under the water and at long last, the submarine surfaces. One by one, passengers get out and Mipha rises to her feet, scanning the crowds for a familiar face. When it appears he’s the last one out, she rushes to him, feeling the need to scold him for having worried her but instead, goes to give him a hug–enough to move him back a bit.