Muirne
The space was echoing, a massive, whispering room filled with endless tomes and carefully hidden secrets. High above the quiet bustle of patrons collecting the knowledge they sought and the quick, handsome vulpine figures darting between shadowed shelves, the vaulted ceiling was veined with ancient branches bent into the facsimile of elegant, arched supports. No sunlight filtered through the dense canopy mimicking a roof constructed with stone and architecture, no dappled golden light to fill the cosy reading nooks dotted throughout the trunks and shelves. Rather, the space was lit with row upon row of dancing fires flickering within their protective lanterns.
Honeyed lantern-light bounced off scintillating scales and elegantly carved horns with brilliant pastel tones. The warm glow caressed a handsome face, lingering upon high cheekbones and long, white lashes like candlelight upon the pages of a freshly bound book. Every brush of the comfortable, tempered fire over the kirin’s refined frame was like as if the whispering tomes and dull light were welcoming the Librarian home. They paused upon the threshold of Novus’s great, ancient Library. An apparition of paper-white and shimmering, faceted metaphors, the rainbow shine of poetry and prose, brought to a Library they simultaneously knew, and did not know.
Muirne breathed in the ancient dust of worn pages and heavily handled leather covers, and they felt, for a moment, as if the subtle caress of the lanterns’ comforting glow was indeed their Library welcoming them home. Twitching ears listened for sighing pages, for whispering tales they knew so well. Their Library breathed with them, every tome spoke to them with the soft turning of their pages and the fluttering sighs of histories long forgotten, lost to languages remembered by their Keeper. But the only whispers they heard were those of studious patrons delving into the myriad of topics available.
Novus’s grand collection was silent to them, the space familiar and unknown, eerie in the silence from the books stacked neatly upon their designated shelves.
The silence settled into the upturned letters of prose and poetry, muffling the elegant words constructed within their mind. The world was changed. The Library was gone. And this was what was left. This space that did not know them from any of the other patrons taking from the shelves. Perhaps this library did not breath as theirs once had. Perhaps it was merely a shattered echo of the monument that had stood for eternity, though it had been buried, burned and fallen to ruins time and again. It had always had its Keeper. It had always emerged from the long millenia of disuse to open heavy wooden doors to the public. And it had never been silent.
Tightness constricted their throat, wrapping their spoken word like the oppressive silence weighed upon the poetry they wrought from their knowledge. They stood on the threshold of the Library, and stared into the space that was not theirs, that had never been theirs and never would whisper to them, guiding them to the exact tome a patron needed.
Shimmering light slid over their scintillating scales and Muirne turned their handsome profile to an approaching stranger.
”Might you be able to assist me?”
Honeyed lantern-light bounced off scintillating scales and elegantly carved horns with brilliant pastel tones. The warm glow caressed a handsome face, lingering upon high cheekbones and long, white lashes like candlelight upon the pages of a freshly bound book. Every brush of the comfortable, tempered fire over the kirin’s refined frame was like as if the whispering tomes and dull light were welcoming the Librarian home. They paused upon the threshold of Novus’s great, ancient Library. An apparition of paper-white and shimmering, faceted metaphors, the rainbow shine of poetry and prose, brought to a Library they simultaneously knew, and did not know.
Muirne breathed in the ancient dust of worn pages and heavily handled leather covers, and they felt, for a moment, as if the subtle caress of the lanterns’ comforting glow was indeed their Library welcoming them home. Twitching ears listened for sighing pages, for whispering tales they knew so well. Their Library breathed with them, every tome spoke to them with the soft turning of their pages and the fluttering sighs of histories long forgotten, lost to languages remembered by their Keeper. But the only whispers they heard were those of studious patrons delving into the myriad of topics available.
Novus’s grand collection was silent to them, the space familiar and unknown, eerie in the silence from the books stacked neatly upon their designated shelves.
The silence settled into the upturned letters of prose and poetry, muffling the elegant words constructed within their mind. The world was changed. The Library was gone. And this was what was left. This space that did not know them from any of the other patrons taking from the shelves. Perhaps this library did not breath as theirs once had. Perhaps it was merely a shattered echo of the monument that had stood for eternity, though it had been buried, burned and fallen to ruins time and again. It had always had its Keeper. It had always emerged from the long millenia of disuse to open heavy wooden doors to the public. And it had never been silent.
Tightness constricted their throat, wrapping their spoken word like the oppressive silence weighed upon the poetry they wrought from their knowledge. They stood on the threshold of the Library, and stared into the space that was not theirs, that had never been theirs and never would whisper to them, guiding them to the exact tome a patron needed.
Shimmering light slid over their scintillating scales and Muirne turned their handsome profile to an approaching stranger.
”Might you be able to assist me?”
![[Image: dcbyy9r-dee8a664-de75-42a3-b412-a74273a5...op3w8Wwe_4]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/0ef0eeab-274c-4e93-b955-868e0d8f464f/dcbyy9r-dee8a664-de75-42a3-b412-a74273a529d7.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzBlZjBlZWFiLTI3NGMtNGU5My1iOTU1LTg2OGUwZDhmNDY0ZlwvZGNieXk5ci1kZWU4YTY2NC1kZTc1LTQyYTMtYjQxMi1hNzQyNzNhNTI5ZDcucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.fG4G4vcQwaigPlfmxmk_7czfKWoyXsLAuop3w8Wwe_4)
"I have written you down, now you will live forever."
- Open to all interactions
- DM me for plots
- Powerplay/metagaming allowed with permission
