/makes this happen, whut/ [Ashura needed new novels to read. He had run out last night, finishing the last of the books he had brought home, so today he was returning them. He was still wrapped in his fur lined robe and his gloves, his black hair piled atop his head in a series of braids and loose bits, and tucked into the fur around his neck was his bird, fluffed up against the cold.
He blinked at the mass of books the other had, only three rather thick novels tucked into his arm.]