THREW STONES AT THE STARS
BUT THE WHOLE SKY FELL
Delumine’s library is magnificent.
Compared to most enclosed spaces, Septimus finds it wonderfully tolerable. The roots and trunks and branches that make up the structure (rather than unpleasant, suffocating walls) retain the impression of the forest, even as the shelves and halls come into view. It is one of the larger libraries that he has encountered in his travels, though certainly not the largest, and, as he strides among the shelves, he is grateful for the time he has spent learning to navigate, for the maze-like halls and precariously organized shelves are practically a wild place in and of themselves.
He has, nevertheless, almost managed to get his bearings, in the few weeks that he has been in Delumine. He tilts his head at a group of scholars as they pass, and they greet him in turn; he didn’t expect to be joining anything while he was in this land of Novus, and he already feels the urge to get out of Dawn and continue to wander the rest of Novus, but he is forcing himself to acclimate and settle for a time, to come to know the people who live in the sunrise court. (It makes him fidget.) Nevertheless, without his magic, he is trapped in Novus for the foreseeable future. He is going to have to live normally - mortally - for a while.
The strange little fox-creatures that live in the library scatter around his hooves, and he bends to look one in its almond-brown eyes. It chirps at him. They’re clever little things, though, for the life of him, Septimus can’t figure out how he’s been here for weeks and failed to discover what the natives call them. The little fox flattens his ears to his skull and hisses towards the end of the hall, clearly agitated, and scampers a few feet away. It looks over its shoulder, fur standing on end, as though it is asking him to follow it.
He doesn’t know what’s upset the helper – a book out of place, perhaps – but trots behind it anyways. It scampers down to the end of the hall and turns a corner, then sits up on its hindquarters, staring down another hallway. Septimus follows it, then, when he stands just behind the little creature, he follows its stare.
Wandering the shelves is a lovely golden man, interrupted by hints of white (he realizes, after a moment, that it is actually blue) – he is slender and graceful and smaller than Septimus, with locks as pretty a cream as much of the rest of him. A pair of wings that put Septimus in mind of an especially pale bluebird sprout from his shoulders, and somehow the color is flattering. The little fox narrows his eyes at the man, and then he bounds off again. Septimus wonders what the man has done to upset it.
He approaches regardless.
“Are you looking for something, friend?” In spite of the pleasant smile that curves the dark corners of his lips, there is an edge to Septimus’s voice.
@Elchanan ||<3
"Speech!"
BUT THE WHOLE SKY FELL
Delumine’s library is magnificent.
Compared to most enclosed spaces, Septimus finds it wonderfully tolerable. The roots and trunks and branches that make up the structure (rather than unpleasant, suffocating walls) retain the impression of the forest, even as the shelves and halls come into view. It is one of the larger libraries that he has encountered in his travels, though certainly not the largest, and, as he strides among the shelves, he is grateful for the time he has spent learning to navigate, for the maze-like halls and precariously organized shelves are practically a wild place in and of themselves.
He has, nevertheless, almost managed to get his bearings, in the few weeks that he has been in Delumine. He tilts his head at a group of scholars as they pass, and they greet him in turn; he didn’t expect to be joining anything while he was in this land of Novus, and he already feels the urge to get out of Dawn and continue to wander the rest of Novus, but he is forcing himself to acclimate and settle for a time, to come to know the people who live in the sunrise court. (It makes him fidget.) Nevertheless, without his magic, he is trapped in Novus for the foreseeable future. He is going to have to live normally - mortally - for a while.
The strange little fox-creatures that live in the library scatter around his hooves, and he bends to look one in its almond-brown eyes. It chirps at him. They’re clever little things, though, for the life of him, Septimus can’t figure out how he’s been here for weeks and failed to discover what the natives call them. The little fox flattens his ears to his skull and hisses towards the end of the hall, clearly agitated, and scampers a few feet away. It looks over its shoulder, fur standing on end, as though it is asking him to follow it.
He doesn’t know what’s upset the helper – a book out of place, perhaps – but trots behind it anyways. It scampers down to the end of the hall and turns a corner, then sits up on its hindquarters, staring down another hallway. Septimus follows it, then, when he stands just behind the little creature, he follows its stare.
Wandering the shelves is a lovely golden man, interrupted by hints of white (he realizes, after a moment, that it is actually blue) – he is slender and graceful and smaller than Septimus, with locks as pretty a cream as much of the rest of him. A pair of wings that put Septimus in mind of an especially pale bluebird sprout from his shoulders, and somehow the color is flattering. The little fox narrows his eyes at the man, and then he bounds off again. Septimus wonders what the man has done to upset it.
He approaches regardless.
“Are you looking for something, friend?” In spite of the pleasant smile that curves the dark corners of his lips, there is an edge to Septimus’s voice.
@Elchanan ||<3
"Speech!"
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
