WHO: Cymoril and OPEN WHEN: Early evening WHERE: The library WHAT: Cymoril wishes to learn more about the world she’s been brought to, so she decides to explore its literature RATING: TBD STATUS: Incomplete
In a complete contrast to the prior evening, the entire day was draped in an almost sacrosanct hush, as if the entire town were recovering from its revelry. The colorful explosions in the sky – fireworks, she had seen them referenced as – had been a rather impressive display, leaving her wondering what sorcery was behind their creation and subsequent use and serving as yet another reminder of how alien a world she had been transported to. It had not been a late night for her despite the noise; like most of her kind, she enjoyed her slumber, though she found little solace in her sleep, merely tantalizing dreams of her homeland and fragmented nightmares of that horrible chamber she had awoken in that final time and the horrors that had awaited her.
Many in this place seemed nearly desperate to find a way out, while others content to remain where they were, building new lives and finding happiness where it was offered. Cymoril was willing to go through whatever motions kept her safe, years of pragmatism flowing through her veins having kept her alive through brutal court intrigue, but she had no interest in returning home no matter how her heart ached. Back in Imrryr, she was dead, impaled on Stormbringer, her soul stolen by the very sword she had begged Elric to sheathe. In essence, she had been given a second chance here, and she would be a fool to throw it away for nothing but oblivion.
But in order to acclimate, she needed information. The dwelling she now called home only offered her so much. It was far smaller than the Royal Palace she had lived in back home, and it was strange not having her personal guard or slaves to handle matters for her, but she believed she was adapting well, all things considered. After some poking around, she discovered a map of the town, and the library appeared to be the ideal place to seek out what she needed. Thinking nothing of the flowing blue dress she wore, clinging to her here and there, or the bracelets adorning her upper arms, she left the house, a few necessities tucked into a pouch belted around her waist. It wasn’t as if she had other clothing options.
It was a relief, however, to hear no shouts of ‘demon!’ or ‘hellspawn!’ as Elric had relayed being called by soldiers from the Young Kingdoms. Townsfolk simply smiled at her as if they saw those like her every day, and kindly directed her to the library when she lost her way. When she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the stacks of books and goosebumps rising on her skin from the sudden blast of cold air, she chose a direction at random and found herself in the poetry section, slender fingers plucking a thick book from the shelf. Thumbing through it, Cymoril’s brow furrowed as she found herself confronting a somewhat archaic form of English, unfamiliar to her and confusing.