#earthrunes

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Velvet shadecandle trembles a bit, with sweet fear, and excitment, even now that she is safe, the memory of her escapdes pulse in her

She sighs, her young wilder heart a flutter . Oh blast this Fiona hold anyway. While she adores Tylar, she blushes at memories of Lauent St. Yves heroism

An older man, perhaps too old for a teenage girl. She will never win his affections, and yet, to pine for what she cannot have? to write small poems in a secret book? What sweet pain.

And a flush of guilt too. Tylar is the one she loves, he is gentle, he is kind. He is a good kisser, and yet? Oh, has any sluagh maiden ever felt so many pulls in opposing directions as she? No. She decides, this is unique in all the land! None has ever felt THIS way afore.

Above her, a spider looks down with concern and alarm.

And elsewhere in Earth Runes, Laurent St. Yves moves through the gothic breeze he carries

unaware that he's gathered more than than he thinks

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Laurent St. Yves enters the library politely, laden with a gentleman's satchel

“I will take your gift, O Bilbo the Magnificent,” said the king gravely." Bronte chirrups as she lands by the sluagh.

"I fear I am more strider without the nobllity, looking foul and feeling fair, but thank you, Bronte" He takes a breath "Is your person here today? Miss Zara?"

Bronte sniffs at the bag. “Witches were a bit like cats. They didn’t much like one another’s company, but they did like to know where all the other witches were, just in case they needed them.”

"Indeed? " A dark twinkle in the eye, "Yes, we huntsmen learned to be cautious of witches. One of the items I have I do nno wish to turn over without her here."

the scent of book is within!

She SITS on the bag!

"Bronte, art thou harassing our guest?" Zara appears, with a tea tray.

"Merely doing what dragons do, Miss Zara, claiming hoards of interest to them" Laurent seems very bemused indeed

A gentle tsk.

And she sets the tray down. "Please, sit. Would you care for a cup of tea? I have well-aged cream..."

"Cream, why miss zara, so few people do, yes , of course" He pulls a chair out for her, then takes a seat, "May I say Miss Shadecandle was quite helpful in our quest. She was not harmed"

"That is good news. I would be... disappointed, has she come to harm."

"And I deeply ashamed. She came close to a poisoned needle, but it was avoided. In fact, she has the needle in her keeping as a momento"

"It could prove useful." Zara pours and preps. The curdled cream forms a delightful archipelago of clots across the tea's amber surface.

"Delightful, many thanks" as the cream makes it's geographical endeavors "It was her keen eyes that helped me find the book though. Trust one trained by a librarian to know where a book would be stored for safety from mold or fading"

"She is an adept apprentice." Zara nods. "Pray, tell of yoru adevnture?" She passes a delicate plate, bearing stale cookies.

"Of course. How to begin? The bolt hole was whee I guessed. Mr. Gluminski had leant as an old map of antiquity , leading us to a location where at one times, prisoners were kept. A banal origin to be sure, but then, it was no longer. He often has done that, the illusion of banality to hide his things from his fellow changelings. We had some trouble convincingg the guardian ghost that we worked for Leech, but I knew enough to convince him"

"And the Dead tend to be so grateful for contact..."

"Yes, they have their stories and so few to hear them" A wistful look

A sip "Oh this is excellent."

"The freehold maintains a curated reserve."

"I confess, Earth Runes is a cut above many in more ways than one" St. Yves goes on "Alas we could not linger with the ghost too long, less our ruse be revealed. The prison was gone, but the hidden tunnel leading out, used for escape more than once, ah what dreams of desperate hope it must have spawned in it's day. It had been expanded. Traps awaited us, more than one. I am adept at their removal. And we found the room. No proper library, but rather a scattered knot work of knicknacks, gemgaws and, to be honest, junk. it was very damp and I feared any chance of books were lost"

A soft hiss at the mention of damp

"Aye, another ruse. Twas your apprentice that noticed that one wall was surprisingly dry, as if refusing the water. And so it did, wardeed to keep he damp just a half inch away. We found the cubbyhole there, and some reading materials " A look at Bronte "upon which, yon wyrm makes her perch"

"Bronte, darling, would you let us see the prize within?"

Bronte looks down, then says almost sheepishly, “There's never enough of the stuff you can't get enough of.”
― Patrick H.T. Doyle"

And she scoots off

"Forgive - she shall demand perusal rights."

"Shall she?" St. Yves raises an elegant brow, "Well, I suppose any form of dragon has it's due. Would she raze a village if denied? Perhaps kidnap a maiden?"

"I have not been so foolish as to deny her."

“Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.” The litle bookwyrm spreads her wings proudly, then, remembering to give due credit "― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein"

Mister St. Yves chuckles like a hollow log caught in a weak moor wind

"That thou art, darling." She scoops the wyrm up to set on her shoulders. "Let us see the prize, then?"

"I see , and yes, best not to contest. " He pulls out the books and items . Two and a half books. Also a small astrolabe

She kenns the items.

And a mazer

All of them have some degree of magic, but it is the half book that catches her attention! the other half of a dougal journal!

"Ah!"