Ghosts and Ancestors in the Library

Log Info

• Title: Ghosts and Ancestors in the Library
• Emitter: Seldan
• Characters: Seldan, Cryosanthia, Poc
• Place: A14: Quill's Repose, City Library
• Time: Friday, March 06, 2020, 3:44 PM
• Summary: Seldan is researching werewolves in the City Library, when Cryosanthia arrives with questions. First she asks about Aya, why Seldan and Svarshan have warned her away. Seldan explains that she still expouses the beliefs of Taara, serves herself, and prides herself on her deceptive abilities. Cryo takes this warning to heart, and reveals why she fears wizards so much. Cryo was captured by slavers, experimented on by wizards, managed to escape and fears they are hunting her still. The conversation and questions move to Seldan's latest task, researching a small town which might have a werewolf problem, or ties to Caracoroth, where a man was flayed by his companions and who currently is haunting him and Ezil. Cryo has little knowledge to contribute on this part, and then delves into some questions she has about his sword and the future. Thinking very long term, she asks Seldan if he will end up in the blade and still be willing to talk with her. Fallia, reveals this might be possible, and it's something Seldan never considered. Cryo further asks if Seldan is a lost king of Bryn Myridon. He indicates he isn't. Poc arrives at this point and briefly speaks with Seldan before the paladin leaves. The sith-makar and the goblin do their best to put the books back on the shelves, before getting chased out by the head librarian.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A14: Quill's Repose, City Library *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

A large hallway, circular in design, is what lies beyond the large doors that let visitors in to the public library. Two guards stand in these doors at all times, employees of the city Watch, hired by the library for protection and to prevent theft of books. The head librarian is more of the same--a retired Watch member, herself: Lady Octagna is a great oruch whose lined face bears with it, as well, the scars of old battle. These days, she battles over books and the impudence of Society, Engineering, and Temple students alike, who spend long hours toiling within the Library's walls and basement.

A sign above proclaims the loan of books to be illegal, and that books may not travel further than the doors. Loud noises are hushed by the Lady Octagna, whose grand stature is said to be second to none. Her movements are rarely heard, though they are often seen, marking her quite agile in her elderly age. Rumors, too, place her as a curmudgeon'd ally of Madame Gelfure, the two of them going back years, with a tradition of lunches or the occasional breakfast.

The hall has marble floors, and two staircases lead upwards, one to the left and another to the right. Bright blue carpets cover the steps to lend to the quiet atmosphere of the great library. Straight ahead of the entryway, a tall archway leads into the main library, with study tables between rows and rows of books. The upper levels contain the city records to the left, and the right is a closed off area for library staff.

The symbols of Navos, the Scribe, may be seen in the markings of columns, in the relief of marble. Marble is the prevalent building material, giving the rooms a regal, official and solemn feeling. A few benches line the walls of the circular hall, and a desk sits to the right of the entrance, a secretary always attending it to help guests, even late into the night. The occasional Seer or Temperance may also be seen, offering advisement and wisdom within the great halls.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'7"     245 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, lithe white lizardgirl with tattoos.
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Red-blonde Eldanar man wearing Eluna's colors and symbol.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Cryosanthia is clearly visiting the library for the first time. She stands like a country tourist, looking at the high arching stairways, the marble floors, the signs full of warnings, and the very vernerable and frighting Lady Octagna and Madame Gelfure. Glimpses of whom are enough to emphasize their importance to the edifice. Avoiding them, she asks one of the lesser librarians for directions to the Arcane section, and walks over as quietly as she can. Her claws are prone to clicking loudly, a noise which both echoes and carries here, dodging absorbtion by the tomes. This increases her self-consciousness and feeling of not-belonging.

Much quieter, among the figures dotting the tables here and there, is a by-now-familiar Seldan. Although this is not an everyday haunt for him, he doesn't entirely look out of place. He has eschewed the armor, as is often his habit in the city, in favor of an blue open-front robe over simple short and trousers. He has a small stack of books nearby, and is perusing one, fingers holding pages between them as if marking sections. Whatever he's doing, he seems intent, although the clicking of claws on marble does jolt him out of his study.

Then those clicky-claws are heading his way. Cryo is attempting to sneak but she simply isn't built for it in this environment, even if she somewhat resembles the marble facades. She reaches for a chair and slides into it, pulling up beside Seldan. "Hi," she whispers, "is it okay to talk here, quietly?"

"Peace upon your nest," Seldan greets, keeping his voice low. "If one keeps one's voice low, yes." He looks down at the tome from which he reads, and closes it quietly - it seems to be a study of lycanthropes. "How might I serve you?"

"What did Svarshan mean, your debt to him is paid? Who is that Mul'neissa? I keep running into her. Is she dangerous? You both reacted like she's dangerous." The sith-makar is looking intently at Seldan as she speaks, leaning so close she's almost breathing on him every time she exhales. One hand grips the table. She hasn't blinked. Despite her intensity, her voice remains low, "This one is sorry, I forgot formalities. Peace on your Scabbard, Seldan. Hello Kianan, Falla, Tisa, Gollain and Zainrew if you're awake. We're in a library."

Seldan's sword is present, but it's tucked away on the floor next to him.

Cryosanthia almost lays her tailtip on Seldan's scabbard, then hesitates and lies her tail down beside it on the floor.

Seldan lowers his eyes and takes a deep breath, laying a hand on top of the cover of the book as if settling himself, and when he speaks, it is very low and quiet. He does not flinch or lean away at the closeness. "Darshan and the people of Mictlan cured myself and Malik of the plague," he explains simply. "I would have none know that, that the desperate not descend upon Mictlan and place its people at risk, in their search for a cure. We ... placed Mictlan at risk, unknowingly, but instead of turning us away ... they aided us. I have not forgotten their kindness, although I acknowledge the debt paid, and it means much to me."

"As for the mul'niessa," he goes on, "She is an open servant of Mulria the Tempter, perhaps known to your people as Taara. I know not what lies between her and Darshan, but ... if she truly serves the Tempter," he trails off, "Much lies between Charn and your people, and I think that it lies between them still. I have not myself seen Charnese slavers."

Cryo's pupils grow wider, until her eyes are half filled and black. She doesn't pull away, or move. Her breathing has stopped, the motions of her chest still. A slight scratching noise comes from the table, as she moves her nails on it, curling her fingers, letting them rebound straight. Her lips clench a few times as if she's about to speak, yet she fails to. When she finally does, she sounds formal and emotionless, "This one has. This one was taken."

Shaken from whatever his own reverie was by those words, Seldan raises his head and watches, his own eyes wide. "Then it continues, to this day. Small wonder your people resent softskins, many of them," he breathes. "And small wonder we were not permitted anywhere close to your hatchlings. I see. Even though she claims no oaths or direct service, that she sees the Tempter as an icon of freedom is enough, for such is a cruel joke indeed."

The implications are clear. She could be dangerous, yes. is she likely to seel Cryo out, probably not, but the possibility exists.

"It does. That is why." Cryosanthia says, her voice still even but she lowers her nose, pulls her head back a little. She blinks and her eyes stay closed. She rubs at her forearm, at her tattoos. "This one was captured as an adult. Our mission failed. These were not voluntary. They poisoned me to awaken my bloodline. Magic came later and I escaped. Just I escaped. This is why I came here from Am'shere, to be farther away. I think the wizards follow me still."

She raises her head and opens her eyes, fixing them on Seldan's face. Her voice has normal tones again, real gratitude. "thank you for interposing, to let Svarshan get me away. I didn't realize the danger. I'll be more careful. She keeps finding me."

"You are welcome. Know that I will not hesitate to do so again, should it be needful," Seldan replies, his eyes going to the tattoos, which only reinforces the seriousness of his mien. "And know that you are no match for her, not physically, nor in experience. She does not reek of evil to me, and I do not think that she will act openly against you, but she will serve her own interests first, last, and always. So it is with all who serve the Tempter. I would not have you suffer further."

"I know I am not that smart and easily fooled. Softskins think faster. I have to reflect, ask others. She has made friendly seeming gestures, but I have seen those games before. I've put that time from my mind." Cryo reaches, placing both her hands on top of Seldan's closest one. She squeezes gently, blinks and stares at him, "I am grateful. I will listen. I will be careful. I will remember she serves herself and I'm only being offered distractions that seem true. I know that mind which thinks of mine as animals. Thank you for reminding me it is not fear and imagination."

She hesitates, sitting back a little, embarrassed at her recent intensity, "I didn't mean to interrupt you so much with my worries. I had come to read on dragons and magic. You are reading on Lycanthropes?"

This time, Seldan smiles a little as the clawed hand rests on his. "The trickery of Mulria the Tempter is not idle fancy, no. She is deceived, I think, as are so many like her." The words also hold a tacit acceptance of the apology. "You need not fear to burden me with your troubles. Your people have stood by me in dark times, and it is only right that I return the favor, if it is granted to me to do so."

He looks down at the book, his smile fading. "I face another enemy. Ezil knows of it, and might have so spoken. A ghost walks Alexandria, and to lay it to rest, we must needs find its killer and bring it to justice. From what I have been able to learn," he pauses, looking down at the book, "the Great Hound holds power in the area, and great wolves have been seen nearby."

"Ezil has, the one slain by three others of a mercenary company. The ghost sometimes appears, but only he can see it. By the Great Hound, do you mean the Wild Hunt, or this is another unknown?" Cryosanthia sits back slightly, so she no longer clasps Seldan's hand, but keeps an arm resting on the table. "I should have noted these details down. I told Ezil to organize his notebooks better, so his inner thoughts weren't easily available. They need silver I think, and wolfsbane can be of use, but that's only information I've gleaned from plays."

She adds a moment later, "And I'll remember, she's deceived and deceives well. I appreciate your help. I had thoughts, on ways I might help you later."

"I would be grateful." His hand freed, Seldan opens the book again, and looks down. "I, too, can see it," he says, quietly. "As can others who undertook that job. Not the Wild Hunt, but ... Alexandria names him Caracoroth, or The Nightmare. There are other names." He frowns, looking down and to the left, as if those names are slipping his mind. "He who holds lycanthropes in thrall. Many worship him. That the mercenary group was summoned to deal with great wolves ...four came out, and four returned. The man slain was held down and flayed alive by his companions, a grisly and cruel act, but one I would well believe of the servants of the Hound."

"Azog named his worg puppy that... Caracorothss." Cryo struggles with the odd play of syllables and ends her pronunciation with an uncharacteristic hiss. She nods, listening to the details. "So, the three were secretly following Ca..The Nightmare, when they were hired? Or dominated to follow him?."

Her forehead creases as her eye ridges shift in concentration, "Was it some ritual where he was the sacrifice, or, were they all changing their skins for wolves and he backed out at the last minute? Or were the wolves becoming them? When you say four returned, the one that was flayed seemingly returned also?"

Seldan shakes his head. "We know not if it was they, or if on the orders of another. If they were ... somehow twisted in their search. If the dire wolves they sought were in fact werewolves, and if they were bitten. There is much yet unknown, but ... amid all this, another task, and one that I would undertake now." He sits a little straighter. "The farmer who spoke to us ... is something of an outcast within the village, for being an outsider. He has no family or sons to aid him in the upkeep of the farm, and his house and barn crumble. He has refused help, and yet ... I would not let it go so easily. The snows are deep this winter. I would seek those willing to rebuild his house and barn, and will pay for the material and skills myself."

The white-scale sith thinks it all over. Her tail is swishing on the floor beneath her chair, her scales sounding hard against the marble. "Is the crime scene old, by many years, decades? If newer retracing steps might reveal something. A record of who hired them, their connections. I would guess you have sought these already."

"This one would be willing to help. I can lift things, serve food, I've had no practice with tools. The Crafter-Caste is the one I have the least involvement with. Be wary... that the assistance isn't perceived as insult. I've made that mistake and been made to feel bad too."

Cryo rubs at the table with her finger, "It sounds like there may be more with the Farmer. Humans are more social than sith-makar, yes? One of us, refusing help, ostracized, letting things fall to ruin, hiding away. That is a sith wanting to be left alone to die. Repairing his buildings may help, but there may be more, a sickness or heart-sickness it doesn't touch."

Seldan nods slowly, considering those words. "Among humans, there is a pride that will not permit him to accept, no matter the need. Did I not see his tears at the very offer, I would not press ... but he is from my people as well. I would aid him." A moment of silence falls, before he adds, "Outsider or not, we need an ally in that place, if we are to learn the truth. The village is most insular, and the sign of Caracoroth was found at their town shrine. They mislike outsiders." Which he quite clearly is. "I do not think that aiding him would offer insult to him. Among humans, to such a one as him, even one willing to lend a hand can restore one's faith." That is spoken slowly, in the voice of experience. "I worry not for the villagers. Do they object or raise insult, it will be handled swiftly and without doubt." There's an edge under that.

"Even those who can simply lift a thing, and hold it in place, are of great help. I am no expert, but I mean to seek, and employ, those who are."

"I can also stand and look pretty." Cryosanthia winks with a small curl upwards of her lips, and a small snort. "This one can be scaffolding and bracing, I will join in. Let me know when. An effort to restore faith is never wrong. I promised to entertain some orphans at the Temple too, I should find time for that also."

She taps the table quietly while she organizes another thought, "This village sounds rotten. I would dig under their shrine to see what might be found. A hunch."

"There is something rotten within it, there can be no doubt of that." Seldan nods his staunch agreement. "I think not the whole village affected, but something within it, possibly. But ... if they are so unwelcoming as all that ...." He lifts a hand to push a lock of unruly hair from his eyes, clearly thinking hard. "I thought them reserved but not hateful. Of course, it may only be that they are not fool enough to cross the Guild."

"You are thinking..." Cryo struggles to guess and keep up. A Speaker's purpose is to find and say the words that aren't being said, which can work when she trusts her instincts, "... that the village may have orchestrated it? To keep something from the Guild? That they know what happened to this man and his companions but are happy to leave it covered?"

"It is possible that they do, and possible that they do not. I did not feel myself unwelcome, despite being openly an outsider." Seldan absently closes the book in front of him. "They spoke little, beyond the trivial, though, but ... I did not press. I thought it better to bide my time, become known ... and that yet may be. And yet, it may not. I know not what secrets they hide, but that they hide secrets is clear enough. I do not think they wish to keep a thing from the Guild, no, only to keep outsiders from their lands, as much as may be. The Guild and its people are acknowledged by most within Alexandria, and crossing the Guild means that one may not have help when one needs it."

The sith-makar nods, thinking through the explanation and the implications. Her head bobs slightly and her tail tip flops from side to side as if she is directing mail into pigeon holes. "I may be a case of building trust. So, how did this farmer come to be there and yet an outsider? Why would he choose a place that did not want him, and if he was once a part, what set him apart?"

"This one can read things quietly for you, if that would help more than my questions?" Cryo says, after a moment of self reflection.

"He is Myrrish, even as I, among native Alexandrians. It is my thought that he settled there during the Crown Wars, when Myrddion occupied Alexandria." Seldan smiles - clearly, he does not seem to mind the question. Slowly, she is drawing from him his thoughts. "There was another among them, whom they aided, and who betrayed them. A servant of Altima. He bears the taint of that betrayal, although the crime was not his. "Such people have long memories indeed, and see outsiders seldom. Those of the Guild are another matter, for while they are strangers and outsiders, they are known to do the work for which they were hired, and they face perils that would leave the common man to flee in terror. No, such as they do not cross the Guild, for the Guild's aid is needed more often than any of us would like."

Seldan nods, resting an elbow on the table in a more relaxed posture. "There is much to be said of history, and much that has happened. I suspect that unfamiliarity is the culprit, for the stares you may receive, and humor does not always translate well, among the races. For myself, I was surprised, when first I met a sith-makar ... but it was the injustice that I first saw." He leaves it at that. "I owe your people much, Cryosanthia."

At the mention of personal questions, he tilts his head to the side curiously, his arm dropping to the table. "You may ask. I may refuse to answer, but I will not speak falsely."

"The first is... the stranger one." Cryosanthia looks around at the bookshelves, putting both her hands in her lap. "When I joked to Azog about becoming weapons, the thought kept coming back. Will you end up in your sword? Sith-makar live a lot longer than Humans, a lot. Would you still speak with me, if you were in the sword? I worry about... becoming evil, over time. A lot can happen in 300 years and I don't always feel as close to my Caste as I think I need to be."

The sword is the first to answer, piping up from where it lies on the floor. The voice is Fallia's, first. "Hopefully not for a good many years yet, Cryosanthia, but someday, yes."

Seldan looks down at the blade by his chair, startled, and reaches down to pick it up. This he lays, carefully and gently, on the table, swordbelt and all, staring at it. "You mean to tell me that you did not pass on to Her halls?"

"That's right. Oh, most of us do, Seldan, but a few of us stay on, lock ourselves to this blade, to help however we can. You don't have to, if you don't want to, you know. And you really need to give us a name, by the way."

Seldan simply studies the blade in a pregnant silence that says he's thinking hard. "Is ... is what she asks possible? I'll think about the name."

"I really don't know, you two. Usually, it's just for us Padaryns. We don't usually wake for people who aren't of the line ... but we have wills too, you know. I've never really wanted to awaken for anyone else, but if Seldan would...." The words hold in them the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

Still absorbing this, Seldan sits in silence for a minute or more. "Why would you fear evil, if you are not close to your caste? One need not be as those who came before, to be of good character."

"Thank you Fallia." Cryosanthia answers somenly, bowing to the blade. She looks over to meet Seldan's eyes. Hers remain intense, gem-like in how the catch the light, and cold. The warmth is in her voice, "I wouldn't ask you to, only that if you choose to, don't forget about me. I think I'm always going to need help."

Then the hard question to answer, "Because... I might turn away, if I mess things up too badly, and not have them to guide me back. Because ... white dragons. What makes them, themselves, I feel it. I have it. It's there. It's small but it can come out. I am vicious when I fight if I let myself go. I worry it will grow if unwatched. Already at times I wish I could tell people to do a thing instead of ask, it's not much further to wanting to make them, and I know that is evil. It's a hole, I worry about falling in."

"But you choose to turn away from that urge," Seldan points out, meeting her gaze with his ice blue one, unflinchingly. "And in that, so long as you choose to turn from that urge ... you will not fall. For our good - or evil - lies far less in who we are, than in the choices that we make." He leaves a hand resting on the hilt of the sword on the table, pinning it to the wood below, but it is an absent gesture to be sure.

Fallia chimes in again, the nasally voice suddenly sharp. "Seldan, if you are thinking of him, leave it be."

"Who?" Cryo asks automatically, immediately curious, followed by, "No. This one apologizes, stop thinking, as Fallia says. Do not answer me."

She blinked. "I, I hope to... choose rightly... that you are correct it's choices more than nature."

"Fallia, if the example may serve to keep another from that fate, then I would speak."

"That one is the single greatest shame our family has known in the last three hundred years. We will turn on you if you speak of it. Leave it be."

Seldan removes his hands from the blade, and sighs, his eyes dropping to his lap. "Very well. I shall not speak, for now." He seems to be willing to let that one go, but says instead, "Choose the company of those who will help you make that choice, who will keep you in the path of the Light. Such is why we who walk our path eschew the company of evil. The choice of the right is a hard one to make, every time, without fail."

"This one is seeking the right ones, trusting instincts, pressing questions sooner than she should." Cryosanthia says formally, as way of an explanation and an apology. Her posture straigther, motions more disciplined. More like the average sith-makar. She definitely has modes for interacting, even if they switch in haphazard chaos.

"I'm afraid to ask my last question. I think I should wait with it." Cryo looks at the scabbard, keeping her hands in her lap. "It relates to you, your family and Bryn Myridorn."

"Ask if you will, but I shall not require it of you." Seldan and Cryosanthia make an odd hair, seated at a table in the arcane section of the library. Amid the books stacked on the table, mostly in front of Seldan, there lies a serviceable blade, its hilt carved in an old and out-of-fashion style and with a single, small golden gemstone set into the crosspiece. He sits with his hands in his lap, careful not to touch the thing. "I take no offense at the asking, even do I choose not to answer."

Oh goodness. Where the devil was he now? Wearing naught but his basic gear, leather strappings and wooden mask, the small figure of Poc wanders into a once-again area that's entirely too large for him. Stepping onto the cool marble floors that chill his green feet, the goblin peers down to marvel at the unbelievable craftsmanship. And further than that? The smell of it all. It just smelled so... fancy. "This... what heaven like?" Poc wonders to himself, feeling some people brush past his idle form as he clogs the entryway. A clearing of the throat from Lady Octagna, someone that is colossally HUGE, causes Poc to gulp nervously and proceed. Wandering forward, his attention flickers all around him, trying to take in everything at once.

Cryosanthia, the other half of the pair, looks far to martial and casual for the library. Her white leathers, serviceable but frequently repaired, the fancy hat and short cape with the glittery lining, combine poorly. While it's her regular attire it seems partly for battle, and partly for some strange street theater that got too realistic with the costumes.

She gets up, takes a quick scan around of people in the aisles, overlooking Poc for the moment, then sits close and leans in to Seldan and whispers. She sounds both conspiratorial, and like an eager fan speaking with an idol, "Was your family involved with the throne being empty in Bryn Myridorn? Are you a long lost heir, a deposed king?"

Seldan looks up at the question, a smile forming on his face and laughter in his eyes. "No, Cryosanthia. We are nothing so grand as all of that. Servitors of the Throne? Yes, that may have been said of some of my ancestors. A king? Never. We are but servitors of Myrddion and its people, nothing more, and we are far from alone. There are those far greater than us, and many so." He doesn't yet seem to have spotted Poc. "I serve Eluna, I serve the gods of Light, and I serve their peoples."

As his feet pass over the marble floor to the plush blue carpet, Poc once again stares down to what he's walking on. Unsure if he's walked on /anything/ like this before, the green goblin crouches down to rub his hand on it. Just to get the maximum feel. "This feel like soft grass." Muttered softly, before he proceeds into the hall with many books and study tables. "Poc lost in another world..." He dreams, wandering past a few tables. So rapt is he that he doesn't even notice sauntering right by Seldan and Cryosanthia! He goes straight past them, disappearing into one of the rows of bookshelves. A few minutes later he emerges, still gawking around like some crazy man. It's at this point does he notice the lizardgirl and her company in Seldan. "Oh." The familiar faces snaps him out of whatever delirium he had entered. "Dragonia. Hello." Wandering up a bit closer to the table, the goblin lifts a hand to wave. "This place real after all. Poc never see anything like it. Poc thought he dead."

Cryo laughs and sits back in her chair with a grin. "I thought it too much a penny dreadful and Crimson Pen plot, but I had to. Your bearing is such..." She waves her hand about.

"A protagonist, the hero. I know many adventurers are. It amuses me to think their tales. This is why I worry sometimes, the Villainess, slain by a sword that was once her friend when She's caught in her machinations. It's a good story, I just don't want it to be mine." She grins, then hearing a familiar voice turns and greets the goblin.

"Poc! Peace on your nest. It is my first time also, this place is crazy huge. This is my friend, Seldan, servitor of Eluna and the gods of light. We were discussing books, I guess, roles and how people end up in them and what doesn't."

"We have met, I think, although perhaps not at length." Seldan turns towards Poc as he stumbles up to them, his smile becoming more formal, his bearing less relaxed and open, although the Myrrish accent does not fade. "You look well, better than when last I saw you," he offers to Poc. "The library is grand indeed, but in truth small next to some of the nobles' houses. It is different whence you come, then?"

"Mm, Poc remember. Seldan part of group when Poc thirty and hungry in pub. Good to see Seldan again." He certainly does look healthier compared to last they met! "Wait... Whaaaat? Noble house BIGGER than library?!" The shouted surprise earns a few 'ssssh!' and hushes from fellow library patrons, forcing the goblin to cover his own mouth. "Oops. Um, no. Poc grow up in forest. Never been in building like this before. Nobles must have big families, hm?" Yellow eyes drift from Seldan to the books, to Cryo and then to the blade. "Big sword. Shiny gem. Magic sword?" His glance goes to Cryo then. "Dragonia and Seldan lots of books?"

"Seldan's books, Seldan's sword. This one brought only questions to the table." Cryosanthia laughs, sliding out of her chair and offering it to Poc, "Some houses indeed are larger. We have libraries in Am'Shere, but they are shorter and thicker."

"At times," Seldan answers carefully. "The books belong to the library, not to me, although the blade is indeed mine. Have a care, it might tell you differently," he adds with a chuckle. "All of the books here have to stay in this place, Poc. One can come here to read them, but they cannot leave, so one must come here to read them."

With that, he glances out the window and stands, picking up the swordbelt as he does so. "Forgive me, Cryosanthia, and you as well, Poc, but evening draws near, and I must see to my duties. Peace be upon your nest and your people, and walk in Her light."

"W...what?" Poc asks, now staring at Seldan. "Sword tell Poc something?" As Seldan departs, presumably taking his weapon with him, the goblin laughs nervously. "...that must be joke. Weapons no speak. No have brains." RIGHT?! Right. Clambering up upon the chair that Cryo offered, Poc takes in the spread of books that are left upon the table. "Dragonia like to read?" The question seems an honest one, said as Poc tilts his head in some curiosity. "What books about?"

Cryosanthia is already standing, so it's easy for her to give Seldan a formal bow farewell, "Peace in your Scabbard, Seldan, and thank you for everything. For listening, answering, and the advice. This one will remember." She promises. "Good luck with the duties, I'll see about getting the books put away."

She remains on her feet, waiting for the Paladin to leave, watching him do so as he heads towards the door. When he passes out of sight, she turns her attention to Poc.

"Lycanthropes, werewolves and..." She pauses, readying her mouth, "Caracorathss. Caracorothp. Ack. I need to practise my sylables. Do you want to help me put the books away, or help me read some of them?"

"Poc not good at reading." The goblin declares without a shred of embarrassment. "Very verrryyy slow. Can sometimes read map, but not words. Let's put books away? That be good idea. Help out people in big library." Jumping back off chair that he was just on, Poc preps to take some of the books to help bring them back to shelves. "Dragonia know where books live?" He purses his lips. "Werewolves? Seen werewolves before maybe? In big city?" That would be scary. "How do people become werewolf anyway? Poc only hear of it before once."

"No... Seldan took them from the shelves. Around here, is likely. I was going to look for gaps and see if titles or authors lined up." Cryosanthia is looking along the shelves as she gathers a few tomes, and is feeling overwhelmed. "I haven't seen a werewolf, and I don't know how it happens. Biting, I think. I'd have to read and these are prety thick. I don't think they're in Alexandria. Seldan was worried about them elsewhere."

"Books VERY thick." Poc confirms, holding a stack of tomes in his gangly arms. He doesn't dare put them back himself. Nope. Instead, he sort of just trails Cryosanthia around, holding the books against his chest while waiting for his friend to pick them up and deposit them where required. "Mmm. Biting. Poc wonder: only humans turn to werewolves? Poc never heard of elves turn into them before." HMM. "They scary. Elves used to tell rhymes of werewolves in forest. Big with sharp teeth." Poc bears his own sharp teeth to mimic the mental visage he has. "Happy there none in big city."

Cryosanthia is making an effort, reading the spines and the markings on the shelves, opening up some of the books that are still on them and comparing titles and authors. She's holding a small stack against her side with her arm, and doing the rest with her free hand, blancing a book between shelf and chest, holding them and using her thumb to turn pages. A couple times she puts her stack down, or hands a book to Poc or takes one. Most times, there is a gap to put something on the shelf. A few times, she has to pry the books apart to shove one in. It's difficult to determine if she's getting it correct.

She smiles down at the little goblin, "I don't know, with those teeth you might turn into a Worg. Elves might be immune. I might be immune, I don't know. I'd hate to trade scales for hair."

"What wrong with hair?" Poc asks, his inflection suggestion he may have taken offence to such a notion. "...but Poc agree. Scales wayyyyy better. Hard. Shiny. Don't get in eyes. Protect in battle too?" The idea that Poc might turn into a worg earns a haughty laugh in response. The goblin throws his head back to cackle with manicndelight. "KAKAKAKAKA!" Once again, he his hushed and 'sshhhd' by the nearby patrons. Oy vey. "Oh. Uhm. Yes. No. Poc no turn into worg. Maybe some day though Poc will get worg friend and ride around. That thing that elves did teach Poc in forest. How to be nice to animals. Dragonia like animals too?"

Continuing to trail Cryo around, Poc observes where the books are returned with a slow nod in understanding. "Dragonia doing good job in putting books away."

"It's not scales, as you guessed. I enjoy having scales a great deal. Very good for battle. And I have big clear ones right over my eyes." Cryo taps beside her eye, perhaps she still needs to worry about scratching it. "I like animals. I am more used to reptiles and amphibians though, I've seen more of those."

The pile of books is dwindling, "Thanks, Seldan didn't look too far, for most of them. I might give the rest to the Librarians. I'm not sure which they'd like less, having lots of books to put away or that I might have made a mistake."

"Psh." Poc remarks. "Poc think Dragonia plenty smart." The notion of being more familiar with reptiles and lizards causes him to mull over some thoughts, watching as the pile of books start to lighten in his arms. It's a good thing too, because his arms were starting to get sore and tired! "Do, hmm.. sith-makar," Poc starts, hoping he at least got the pronunciation right of the species, "...they ride on lizards like goblins ride on worgs? Maybe Dragonia can introduce Poc to big lizard with scales. That be a big boon in fights!" A very big boon indeed. "What we do with rest of books? Poc drop on floor?"

"Well, the rest of the books we'll take to one of the librarians. Look for a younger one, they're usually nicer." Cryosanthia suggests, having accomplished all she can with her shelf prowling. There are 6 books left without homes. She leads the way to the stairs, and looks around.

"We do ride lizards, we have Swiftclaws and draftdrakes. Swiftclaws run on two legs and have big claws, the draftdrakes are slow. It's possible to ride them, but it's better to pile stuff on them, or have them pull a cart. They come in a few sizes. We have some small and tiny tree lizards we keep for pets, and a couple that fly, that are large enough to ride. I haven't used any of them in fights. I do prefer riding them, the way they move..." She makes a strange rock-rock wiggle of her hips from side to side, "feels like proper running. A horse works differently."

Then the two are ambushed by Lady Octagna, "Where do you think you're going with those!"

"F...Fly?" Poc stammers, eyes shining with delight from behind his mask. The mental image he has of himself riding upon what sounds like a miniature dragon while shooting arrows down upon his foes is enough to general significant excitement. "A...awesome. Maybe Poc find flying lizard. Sharp claws and teeth too? Where Dragonia from again? One day take Poc there maybe?" Can't hurt to ask!

The sudden ambush causes Poc to jump in fright! She was a towering figure, after all. And when she comes out of no-where, it's enough for Poc to drop ALL of the books he is carrying. "Ah! Ah! Poc no know! Poc no stealing!" The goblin skitters behind Cryosanthia, hoping to use her scales as a neat shield for any incoming attacks. >_>

Cryo decides the best answer is the shortest possible one, and based on her interactions with Azog, full of strictly detail and facts. She thrusts her three books out in front of herself like a shield. "These need to go on the shelves. We didn't take them off. Don't know where they go."

Lady Octagna glares, and demonstrates a great degree of spryness as she bends and picks up the books Poc dropped. Her glare winds like a snake around the sith-makar's legs and tail, finding him and filling his world with angry eyes and horned glasses. She stands and takes the remaining three gruffly from Cryosanthia.

"All right. Get out."

Poc doesn't need to be told twice. Without hesitation the goblin is gone, fleeing the library that he thought was some sort of after-life just moments before. The cold feeling of marble and plush sensation of carpet is barely felt this time! "Let's go to pub, Dragonia!" Poc suggests once they are clear of the library, tugging on his friends outfit in the direction (he thinks) is towards Fernwood Pub. Spoiler: it's definitely not in that direction.

"Poc needs good drink after that!"

Cryosanthia is equally quick to leave, although she does it with long clicky strides and a very ridgid posture to her back. She exhales and visible relaxes once outside. "Wow. Don't want to cross her. Hope I can go back there."

"Sure, a drink sounds good, let's do that."

She heads for the Fernwood Pub, leaving the library behind.

<OOC> Cryosanthia's inner white dragon: 'is that a nummy nummy juicy piece of gossip?' chomp!