L'automne est une chanson de pluie WHO Élisabeth Vincent OT Anyone (open to multiples) WHAT A visit to a different library than her own WHERE Havenwood Public Library WHEN October 27, 2016; 5:30 PM RATING TBD, probably none
In the twenty-odd years she’d resided in Havenwood, Élisabeth had rarely left her safehaven on the campus of Crescent Hill Academy. As the school’s librarian-in-residence, she had been granted the assurances of the headmistress that so long as she caused no human harm, she would be protected on the school grounds. It was an easy enough agreement; the last time Élisabeth had fed on a human had been 1945, and she had sworn to never let it happen again. She had caused enough harm as it was.
Still, there were certain needs that she could only fulfill by venturing down the hill into the town proper. She had a standing monthly private reservation at a small dance studio, and had become something of a regular at the Hoof and Feather for its assortment of non-human bloods. Going to the butcher shop had been painfully embarrassing at first, given the odd turn her first visit had taken on Valentine’s Day the year prior. But since then she’d even managed something of a rapport with the handsome owner, at least as much as she was capable.
Today, she had found herself making her way to her first source of employment in town, the Havenwood Public Library. One of the instructors had requested a book at the last minute that was not on hand and, rather than handle the problem himself, had forced upon the librarian because he believed it to be her job.
“I’ve got quizzes to grade!” he’d huffed, before Élisabeth had finally relented, if only to get him out of her library. She’d sent him away with a cold assurance he’d have the needed text in the morning, then followed it with a string of muttered curses in French. She almost missed the alcoholic Englishwoman he’d replaced. Almost.
So she had fetched her overcoat and umbrella, grateful at least that it was a rainy fall day, which helped her look a bit more incognito in her attempts to avoid any direct sunlight. Once she was safely inside the library, she stowed her umbrella in the entryway and moved on the peruse the stacks. She could have found the book she needed in heartbeat, but she liked to linger a while, to see how the collection had changed since her days working there and who was utilizing the library’s resources. The students were fond of telling her that there was no need for libraries anymore, that the internet was all the resource they needed.
Looking at the number of people who’d taken shelter from the rain inside, Élisabeth couldn’t help but smile a little to herself to see them proven wrong. What do children ever know? she thought to herself, so caught up in reading the spines of the latest bestsellers that she failed to see the patron in front of her until it was too late.
“Pardon,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I did not see you.”