rogueinladysclothing | Scholarly meeting [Tagging Viatorus]

On the border of the Parklands and the Commercial District of the Nexus stands a grand library. Its tall, arched entry way and high vaulted ceilings remind one of a church rather than a library. Inside, though, the walls of each of the three floors are stacked high with books, their ranks broken only by the large, stained glass windows. Rows upon rows of bookshelves across the floors offer even more volumes to those who set foot inside the library. A true scholar's delight.

For Amelia, though, the rows of books mean little. Without direction of where to start, it would mean little for her to delve into the complexities of new technologies or the rich histories of the many worlds from which the books come. She'll start in on them, someday, when she knows the best place to begin.

In a small alcove off the main entryway, there stands half a dozen polished wooden tables with matching high backed chairs with plush cushions. It is one of several, all of which have varying decor and furniture, but this one inspires the feel of the European Renaissance. Rich tapestries hang on the walls and a suit of armor holding a tall battle axe stands in the corner. The room makes Amelia feel more at ease, especially when she finds Viatorus Durant sitting at one of the tables with several large volumes spread out in front of him.

Although her entrance would cause no great alarm to him, she stops in the doorway and shuffles her feet noisily. No visible weapons hang from her belt, though the discerning eye would notice the two daggers still laced into her boots. She smiles in Viatorus' direction as she leans against the doorway. "Hard at work?"

There's a reason Viatorus likes this room. He's always grown up around old world grandeur so it makes him feel comfortable. As do books. Which is why he is steadily building a fortress of beautiful spines and piling notes. His papers sprawl across the table, notes and sketches as varied as the subject materials he's surrounded himself with: Portals, curses and ethics being the primary concerns.

The shuffling doesn't stir him from his work, but the question does. He turns around and, seeing a familiar face (and a distinct lack of weaponry), he smiles. "Miss Ronsam."

He takes time to finish his sentence before he sets his pen down and stands up, approaching her with a bit of fidgeting. "How are you?"

no subject