One of many of Uthlyn's vast libraries stood before her. In a means to keep somewhat apart from the entirety of Connloath, Collette chose the medium-sized library here. It was one story, certainly old, and was well-kept for a building that was tended to by an older citizen. The sun beat harshly upon her black-clothed back, beckoning her forward into the darker place. The building had seemed to breathe, or perhaps it was merely her imagination?
With confidence she faked well, Collette strode to the door of the building, gently prodded the large iron door open, and breathed deeply. It is as I imagined, she thought crossly, rotted, drafty, and reeking of old wood. To the untrained eye, the interior would appear most kept, but the smell and spidery contents of the corners stated otherwise. Even so, there was the undeniable presence of more than one crack amongst the wooden interior; for surely there was a brick exterior, but the inside... wood and clay.
The young adult strode past endless stacks of leather-bound books. She was weary of another's presence, anticipating the moment that the keeper would show himself. It was not uncommon knowledge that bookkeepers took pleasure in scaring the wits out of customers. Even so, Collette's vibrant cerise eye was trained upon a back aisle, one where an acquaintance had mentioned a certain iron-cornered book she sought. The half-human thought of the book briefly, Connloathe it was titled. The spelling was archaic and antiquated, the work of a chronicler.
Her tall brown boots made a light echo in the maze of paper and ink. Each aisle she passed seemed to reach out desperately, dark tendrils of yearning attempting to lure her into their strange worlds. It was so silent, the tension so thick, she had nearly snapped when passing through a particularly crowded aisle of leathery books.
After another passing, her echoing footfalls slowed. The sunlight that was provided through the very few large windows did little to help her see the titles of particularly old books, which would be dust-ridden. Should she look over her shoulder, Collette would see a sea of pages and, distantly, the iron door to the establishment. She blinked, straightened her back properly, and sighed. My search begins, Uncle.
And it does. Collette began looking through the aisle she was instructed. There must've been at least 200 books upon the shevles before her, not to mention the thousands within the library itself! Her pale, sickly hands reached for the first book. It's title was wrong. The next had a familiar title, but had not the right dates. Book after book she searched. The hunt continued for nearly an hour, and finally she reached a large book bound at the corners with iron. Quite expensive... this must be an important set of documents. The thought made her grin internally, and since no one is around, visibly. Her set of pearly white teeth gleamed almost menacingly in the half-dark library. Connloathe it read, and Collette opened it to the first page. A short intro is placed in perfect archaic script:
Years 19xx-21xx
The tales which this booke keeps record ov is for Connloathe's owne. Collette's visible eye stared, intranced, at the strange spelling and old introduction. It continued, I, Mahira Cassidra Fannlie, Chronicler of this Connloathe, do sware upon the truth of these events und records.
A giddy, bubbly feeling stirred in Collette's small stomach. her grin dropped to not raise suspicion (should someone see), as she closed the book. That had been what she needed. The records of the time were not so dangerous as to be misplaced in this library, no. Something that could be harmful would be in the larger libraries- certainly a lord's. This book would not wreak havoc, but would provide the Vandiver with information she sought.
She looked left and right, then fixed her skirts and sat upon a pile of seven books at her feet. It wouldn't hurt to begin research. She reasoned.
