#char. » maz'rur

[fadedpath]

in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books . ( senay & maz )

There is never any true silence, even inside a library with the flickering of the sconces throwing shadows this way and that against the towering bookshelves. There is always a noise to be heard. A thump of a book against the table, another book, the floor, or a turn of the page, back and forth, searching, to an open mouth breathing while eyes glaze over the tiny text, words warping in the listless gaze. Even Maz'rur carried noise with him, walking with a muffled tap of his slippered feet against marbled flooring, or the soft swish of his long kaftan that moved in tandem with his stride. If one were to focus further, beyond the human sounds of a cough or a creak in the wooden chairs, towards the very library itself breathing in and out with every visitor it takes in, the cacophony of noise would make a din in one's mind too loud to ignore.

Maz'rur all but tries to drown it out with his own thoughts, guided by his wandering gaze as he takes note of which shelves he passes.

Mummifying. Spirits. Death. The Rights of Entombment. Laws and Death. The Magic of the Realm. Wisps. Matter and the Science of Life …

He counts. One by one, through the alphabet, the tips of his fingers ghosting along the leather spines. There are bumps and grooves. Skin makes it a unique print where one can search out a book without a name, just by touch alone. But that is not why he is there. For once, he does not wish to study. For once, he is not guided by his desire to look more into the realm beyond, to the spirits of all that surrounds, or to the death that awaits them—but to a woman. He stops short, just barely around the shelf that hides him still, once he sees her. Dark hair, a shadow unto itself sucking in the flicker of the candlelight near her … her head angles down, a look of an intent search of the open book in hand, the curve of her delicate neck to the jut of her chin.

Maz'rur steps back, fully covered by the shelf again as he takes a quiet breath. He glances to his side, eyeing the books at his level. The Magic of Life stares back at him, in its golden tanned leather and golden embossed letters. His lips twist for a moment before he puts his back to it, thinking.

Another breath. He breathes with the library, before he steps out from the shelf with a new sense of confidence. Shoulders straight, a sure gait, he comes upon Senay as if he was not aware of her existence until now. He hums a little, breaking the mock silence that surrounds her, before a lithe finger pokes out to tilt the book she is reading just to see the title upon the cover. Of course he knows what it is. The dark green leather, the faint blackened words pressed on as if burnt—a humble one even when inside, upon the parchment pages dotted with ink, holds a world of the very dead they cater towards. It is but a book most everyone needs to read if they desire to be of any use, at least in his surmising.

❛ Rituals of the Beyond, is it? ❜ Maz'rur speaks in a low murmur, breaking the silence even further as his hand pulls back. ❛ What do you need that one for, I wonder. ❜

@moonstalk !