The library was a dramatic change from his usual scene as of late, its interior hushed, uncrowded, and eerily quiet. It was a jarring contrast to the streets of the Night Court, where everything and everyone was hardly in motion, and the music played so loud he could hardly hear himself think.
Here in all the silence that was Delumine, his thoughts felt uncomfortably loud inside of his own head.
The scent of Denoctian spices and perfumes still clung to him, wafting through the otherwise stagnant air in a trail behind him as he walked. His scarves whispered against his sides as he moved, hoofbeats landing so quietly on the earthen floor that he made hardly a sound as he went. Aside from the library keepers, who hardly stopped to acknowledge him, he was alone. Dust stirred as he walked amongst the aisles, scanning the titles half heartedly. Toulouse wasn’t sure yet what he was looking for - only that he would know it when he saw it.
And so far he had yet to see it, or even a glimpse of it; there was not a single hint that he was headed in the right direction.
His diamond-shod hooves clicked gently across the floor, wine-red tassels bobbing along his scarves with every step. With the beginnings of a frown making itself present on his face, he stopped before yet another bookshelf, as dusty as the last had been.
Green eyes slithered across the titles, lingering only briefly on any one. Yet again, each of them failed to pique his interest. Is there nothing worthwhile here?
A quick glance around told him no one was watching. And so he reached into the pockets of his scarves, and drew from them a coiled snake. Its gemstone eyes glinted in the dim light, golden scales shining.
“Avekne.”
At his whispered command, the snake came to life. It lifted its head, tongue flickering past its lips to taste the air. Toulouse studied it with interest as it twisted through the space before him, hovering at eye level. He held it up with his telekinesis, so entranced by the snake’s movement that he hardly noticed the footsteps approaching from the other side of the bookshelf.
the motherland don't love you,
the fatherland don’t love you.
so why love anything?
the faithless; they don't love you
the zealous hearts don’t love you.
and that's not gonna change.
ut deo.
@mateo
partially recycled post, hope that’s alright c’:
enfanir art
