#earthrunes

Alas, it has limits. No mention of the Autumn or Spring Courts

No, there wouldn't be....

That memory is wreathed by mists, but that Realm holds a fond place in dreams.

Magic, transformation, novelty... She turns the book over and taps her chin.

Mmm yes, the artist is the same, whoever he or she was, the style a bit less surreal than earl's, but at his level of skill. Oh how the two figures seem to enjoy BOTH courts.

A deep dive could be novel...

That would be her choice, but then , to which end?

That IS the question, isn't it?

She is not one prone to extremes, at least not in Court. She has vague memories of... sampling the four seasons in excess. But alas.. only echoes

Winter, more than Summer, is one of excess - is it not? She turns the book once more, and opens it.

She has been floating Seelie for months now - dreams of Oathing and love lend themselves to it.

Around her, flowers are in their glory, the rich green of the highest part of the season...

The story is engaging, all the elements of Unseelie believes woven into the tale victoriously. Here, it is deceit and personal ambition, embracing the shifts and tides of chaotic moments, passions carrying the two lovers to their goals over duty, glamour flying like wine at a bachinalia

Oh, it would be so CONTRARY to dive into the deepest Winter. Not her usual flurries, nay...

Could this tale set her deeper than she has ever gone before? Oh, what would her Love think of that?

Oh how the lady in the story shapes herself, she lies so easily... and makes gains

She is not evil... no, she actually helps those she cares for...

but self interest is no shame to her

What would she be, in a blizzard? Not Zara the grey, but... oh, she must know. Curiosity and contrariness both impel her, opening herself to the book's magic...

The book does not push, does not pull, rather the the story accommodates

It might well be reckless. But, her soul whispers - the Cerenaic, awakening, what fun could it be?

Why should she not have all the books she wants? Gather secrets forbidden?

Is she not sluagh?

Sluagh of shadows and secrets, sluagh of misdirection and slipperiness... oh yes.

A harder edge in her than before, and the story offers more. A shift to her voile, just as the once maiden in the tale took to white furs? Subtle or celebrant?

Charcoal and soot, tatters and spiderwebs - it is a finery of ashes, just a hair's breadth from black. A fine look for a winter witch.

She feels... ravenous and unashamed in it. Not for food or flesh... though if she thinks on her lover she can see many fine uses for him, but lore and secrets and... oh dear. Does she want power? It depends, she realizes, on what form the power takes. If knowledge is power, she might be power hungry now, yes. But she still has no interest in say learning how to swing some sword . The garments about her lay like the ashes of her offered up honor, like a pagan sacrifice of duty.

Damn, too bad she didn't get ALL the books for herself. Oh well, she is still glad Clem is happy, but one can always have more books.

It would appear her biblophile nature has not been lost, no not at all.

She stretches, languid and satisfied and yes.... hungry.

footsteps in the hallway, approaching her library. Soft, not a troll no.

Zara rises.

"Miss Zara, are you in?" Ivanka the maid comes in, spreading her fingers in respect as she enters

"I am. Good evening, Ivanka."

Zara looks at the mortal, this kinian, with truly unseelie eyes. She might be surprised that she is still fond of the woman.

Or perhaps not. Competence is to be appreciated

"My, what a lovely outfit," She admires "Vashti's work?"

"Nay, magic." She stretches an arm up, a languid, indulgent gesture, and turns so Ivanka may admire it.

Yes, a time there was where mortals placated the fae with worship and respect and fear. And she no longer feels shame at pondering it. Ivanka gazes at the work, "What a remarkable hue, it dances with black then backs away. Truly impressive , Miss Zara. Ah, but I forgot my duties. Sir Bachdion asked me to tell you that Bronte ,should you wonder where she is, is at his study. It seems he had some new books brought in. Well, she smelled them and, well, you know how she is"

"Oh, but I do... new books? I must needs see them, yes." She caresses Ivanka's cheek. "Thank you, for the news. You are most delightful in your service."

Ivanka seems surprised "I am happy to serve"

"Aye. And I am happy to have your presence. Mm... could you see to it that the Teguanyin tea is sent to my chambers? I am not sure when it shall need to be brewed, but I wish it there, awaiting my pleasure."

"It shall be" She nods and puts hand over heart again.

Zara presses her hand to her heart, returning the gesture to the kinain, before breezing off to find Bachdion.

Bachdion is not hard to find, she does not frequently visit his office, but he teaches many students and in that, they share an interest in education. The door is partly open, and she sees the dapper satyr fussing at Bronte "Bronte, there's no reason I can't read a book while you read that book. Who told you you got to read all the books first?" A chuckle in his voice.

And there is her dear Bronte! Her front part on one open book she reads, but her tail curled over ANOTHER book yet unopened

Zara can understand the sense of that sort of thing more than ever before.

"Oh, I certainly indulged her in this. After all, she is a growing bookwyrm."

"I do not even get to read my own books first.. well, not often." Thinking on her most recent acquisition.

he did not hear her, gratifying, but now he does "mm Oh, Zara, lovely as always. Yes, it would appear she has developed even keener olfactory senses."