Within the College

[Arthane_Lazul (aaaa1188) 4]

Dim torchlight flickers over the time-pressed pages that compose one of Haelun'or's many works, the only sound audible over the roar of the storm outside being Arthane's own tapping on the tome's cover. He flinches slightly as a particularly large *crack* emanates from just outside, echoing through the tranquil college of the Mali'aheral.

"Such potent weather," he muses to himself quietly as his eyes dart over the words in front of him, "and so sudden to appear, as well. Lucion must be having quite the time with this."

Pausing himself only a moment to roll his head about in a futile attempt to stem the onset of a stiff neck, Arthane continues to look over the tome before him, until it holds no concept or theory he has not examined. Closing the work with a slight *thud*, he places it back in its respective shelf before stepping back to gaze at the rest of the grand collection.

"I wonder what others have found to entertain themselves with in this weather. Delonna is desperately trying to keep his crops from being washed away, no doubt... What of the others?"

After pondering his own question for a few moments longer, his eyes restart their slow scan over the grouping of bookshelves, his hands pulled tightly inside his slightly damp coat.

[ThanksChris 605]

Acaele Lazul crawls around on the college floor not far from Arthane, looking over the occasional anomaly and crack in the floor. He occasionally shakes his rattle to clear his thoughts, mind lost in the college's vast hall.

Every so often he would find an object of interest, ranging from stray books to old silverware left from the various classes and conventions, and excitedly show it to Arthane, usually garnering a rather disgusted response.

[Mithradites 1168]

Lucion Sullas runs quickly into the doorway of the college, trying his best to avoid the swathe of rain pouring through the patchwork of ledges and pathways above him. He wipes off water from his white robes, and runs a hand through his hair; attempting to wring some of the water from it. Straightening his coat and wiping boots on the doorway's flagstones, he trots down the steps in an almost rythmic pace. At the sight of Acaele, he half-trips on the steps. Watching the child warily, he keeps a fair distance, and moves towards the bookshelf next to Arthane.

"A most excellent day for empirical observation, would you not agree?"

Lucion glances back to Acaele, keeping track of his distance to the child, and pulls a damp notebook from his coat.

"Have you seen the current strikes? Utterly mesmerising. One would be lying if it didn't make one almost understand the Valah's insistance on the existance of a divine entity."

Smiling slightly, he looks down to his notebook.

"Almost."

He pulls out a small quill and a tiny pote of ink.

"And by "almost" I mean "not at all". Such an absurd concept..."

Seeing Acaele crawling towards Arthane with a miscellaneous object, Lucion turns himself towards the opposite end of the shelves and walks calmly over to observe the tomes.

[Yuln 265]

*Vallel'Yuln storms into the college, cursing. She drops a patch of ruined paper on the tiled floor. Raising a hand to remove some strans of hair that were blown in her face, She looks around. Slowly she starts to descend the stairs. When she notices Lucion, Acaele and Arthane she absently greets them.* "Karin Ayla, lliran..." *Yuln looks around for blank paper.*

[JoakimVonAnka 63]

Aerion slowly makes his way into the collage, he does not seem to be in any rush to get out of the rain. Infact, he walks extremely slowly, raindrop after raindrop hitting his soaked coat and wet hair. He mutters something as he leans on the wall, just by the entrance. He lets out a sigh and a few words added to his depression

"I'm.. going to get a cold.."

Aerion flips his hair to the side, trying to look by the fact that his hair is soaked. He then straightens up slightly, heading down towards the library with no real expression on his face, obviously trying to hide how he is feeling about it all. He takes a deep breathe before nodding and greeting on his fellow Mali'aheral.

"Karin'ayla, Mali'aheral.."

[KannAllyEnd 12]

Ante'vuln exhales sharply; Ancestors, she hates the rain. An odd sentiment for a writer, perhaps. She's aware that the idea of rain on the rooftops whilst curled up with a good book is typical. But her hung-over state causes an aching head, and the ir-rhythmic chatter of raindrops exponentiates the problem.

She'd have stayed at home, preferably in a comfortable chair by her own fireside with a warm mug of tea. She'd have taken Arthane's rather generous offer to watch Acaele for the afternoon (how it wounds her, the way the child is so cautious around his mother lately; how it aches in her guilty heart!) in order to finish her writing, perhaps. She'd have found a friend to converse with, and between them found a tale or two to be told in the pleasant company. In a particular mood, she have paced about and sulked. Rain, as it were, makes a for an apt tempo when pacing. These notions have occurred to Ante'vuln, but without flavor.

She is here instead. Ante'vuln is sitting in the library, just a few floors above her husband and son, likely unbeknownst to them. At a desk with no paper nor implements to put to it--she sits, head in hand, just... thinking. And hating the rain. Larihei. She hates the rain. If she had her cloak, she'd draw it around herself for warmth, in vain attempts to shut out the ceaseless noise. Instead, she is wearing Arthane's old coat, worn and tattered over her gown. It must look odd, mismatched, but today, Ante'vuln needs this, needs the familiar scent wrapped around her shoulder and keeping her company in the shadow of the bookshelves.

Thunder cracks along the sky, and Vuln thinks absently of a time when that would have frightened her. She would have tunneled under the blankets, shut her eyes tightly, and pretend the thunder was only the booming laughter of the clouds. Today, it barely phases her. Stormy weather is no source of imagination to one who cannot appreciate the rain.

Ante'vuln is distracted.

She's remembering, if you really want to know.

It's a game she plays sometimes, usually after something troublesome. It's how she processes, she supposes. And it's a surprisingly detached process. She is watching old stories as if they were not her own. The Valah pray. They beseech a God for peace, for favor, and make sense of the world through repetitive, mumbled verse. Ante'vuln remembers in much the same way. An old scene replays itself a hundred times, and in this litany, Vuln seeks deliverance.

Today, she's remembering a song.

Her father used to hum it, just under his breathe as he took the ashes from the fire. It was a somber, steady tune--and by its notes, she can recall the shape of the shadows that clung to her father's face. The pitch of his voice is contained here, and the way his hands, sifting black dust from the grate, were so very, very large. So much she has access to, only through this snapshot, and a few precious others. Now, she's trying to preserve all her father was as a man, all she could never know--in a few notes he left behind.

Ante'vuln hums along to the memory, replaying it between throbbing temples, against the sound of rain. Hearing it her own voice, she thinks, that maybe, it was a sadder song than she'd recalled afterall.

[Supremacy 3361]

Kalenz slowly trudges into the main chamber of the library. Curiously emerging not from outside, but from the lower floor. Tucking a quill and small tome into his robe pockets he approaches the congregation of mali'aheral, unsure of what to make of it. The rain continues to pour down in sheets. The sound can still be heard clearly from inside. After no more than a moment of observing the group and muttering the obligatory "Karin'ayla lliran" he distractedly begins making his way up the stairs and towards the library gate. Flicking up his hood he steps out in the rain marching away.

Moments later rapid splashing is heard and Kalenz reemerges back into the college. Now drenched by the downpour he begins walking back down to the other elves.

"So it appears I shall not be leaving Haelun'or at this time." he mutters almost shivering as he descends the stairs.

[Arthane_Lazul (aaaa1188) 4]

Looking away from the collection of bookshelves, Arthane raises an eyebrow at Acaele as he holds up a small broken quill.

"Have you found something, little Acaele? Let me see that, just what do you have there...?" he says, before taking the quill in hand. "Ah, a bit of a writing implement, I see. No doubt thrown aside by a rather frustrated author."

Arthane then places the quill back in Acaele's small grip, before turning to glance at Lucion, a small grin forming on his slightly damp face.

"I had a feeling you might be enjoying the situation, Lucion. Though, I did not realize you would be enjoying it here... Have you finally decided to return from your self-imposed exile?"

Turning back towards the bookshelves, his eyes stop when they rest upon a particularly interesting tome on the top most shelf. Hopping upwards slightly to reach it, he pulls down the book in question, and begins to look through its contents. He is interrupted, however, by the entrances of Yuln, Aerion, and Kalenz, each muttering a begrudging greeting as they attempt to dry off their soaking clothes.

"Ah, karin'ayla Yuln, Aerion, Kalenz. You've fared well in this weather, I see." he says with a slight smirk, half turning his body to face them. "You especially, Aerion. You appear as though you were merely allowing yourself to be completely drenched in the downpour. Are you quite all right?"

[Samler 1566]

Seth was wondering why no one was in the inn that evening, just after a thunder struck Seth ran from shelter to shelter, working his way to his home as he passes the library he hear voices, he sneaks in, he makes his way down the stairs towards the class room, hoping that would keep him out of sight.

[Mithradites 1168]

Keeping his eyes squarely on the books, Lucion acknowledges Arthane's comment with a grunt. He runs his hand upon the spine of "Grandfather Vol. 1" and pulls it from its place.

"Yes. I felt two weeks with the halflings was sufficient punishment for myself."

He opens the book, and flicks through several pages.

"Weather was dull as well. Far too calm."

[JoakimVonAnka 63]

Aerion moves his feets on the stone floor, his feets leaving a wet trail. He looks up, his gaze scanning the area. His gaze finally stops by Arthane. Aerion mutters something, still trying to keep his head up high and look strong before the others.

"Yes.. I'm alright. Could have been.. dryer, but I'm alright."

Aerion then frowns slightly, flying away in thoughts. After a short period of this, he breaks out of the small trance. He looks around, searching for his maln.

"Hmm.. Have you seen maln? I hope he isn't out in this weather.."

[Samler 1566]

Seth stop sneaking, he walks in normal speed towards the others, his steps can be heard in the library as the echo bounces around, he jumps on some few stones so he is no longer on the stairs towards the class room but in the library part.

"I am here Aerion, I was thinking of watching a little before reveal myself, I am sorry I did not tell you anything about it."

Seth, a little wet stands before Aerion before bending in his knees, makimg himself as tall as Aerion.

"Can you forgive me son?"

[Lynesse {Celia/Jazzy} 398]

Ardene sits in the lower hall of the library. She runs her hand through her hair, frustrated. She looks down to her work and mutters to herself darkly.

"I'm doing something wrong, but what?..." she ponders, frustrated as she wipes a drop of sweat off her brow. Wearily, she sighs. Trotting to the window, she looks at the weather.

"Great, now I need to mop up again." she says in a frustrated manner. Clenching and un-clenching her hands as a habit seemed to relieve her of stress. Appearing a bit more collected she returns to her book and scans over the pages.

"Maybe the author has done something wrong, not me!' she says wearily, trying to deny her own stupidity. Throwing the book to the ground with a large thud Ardene smiles. 'That's what I think of you "Robert J Firebelly!". Returning to her pile of mathematics notes she crosses out the sheet haughtily.

"Math is stupid anyways."

She packs the books and the notes lazily in her bag, reminding herself to dispose of them through fire when she gets home. "Let's see how Firebelly holds up to fire!" she thinks to herself, smiling wryly. She trots upstairs with the pride of a peacock. As she walks up the stairs, out of tune with the world she glances sideway. "Quite a party going on here!" she hollers.

[Mithradites 1168]

Lucion winces at the loud words from Ardene, glaring angrily towards her with an expression of utter contempt. He quickly closes his book, and slides it back within its crevice.

"This is the college library, Ms Telrunya, not a Valah marketplace. Speak if you wish, but in a more respectful and quiet tone, if you would be so kind."

He looks back to the shelf and mumbles to himself.

"The notion of a "party" in the college is absurd in the first place."

[Eleatic 1033]

In the corner of your eye. in the darkest, most shadowed corner, a soft strand of silver hair protrudes, and a soft step is heard. You turn your head, and you hear a faint giggle,

"Why, hello." The strange high elf's hand protrudes, as he grasps the wall. Clutching outward, and steps to the light, and as he does so. You realize who he is.. He says in a faint tone. one tired, and weary, as his head bows.

"Karin'ayla."

When you look upon Ikur, he is in a ragged state, his normal crimson and silver velvet robe is torn, but it retains a sense of kindliness. And he steps forward, his eyes turning over those in the library, a frown now upon Ikur's lips.

kur traces his fingers along the wall, a faint tapping as his fingers grasp the thickened stone, and he looks outward, staring distatntly towards the bookshelves

"What did I miss?"

He manages a faint, but wary smile. As he awaits response.

{;3]