Luxeanna makes her way down the spiral staircase, a couple hard cover books mounted on her palms. The copious amount of quills thrown carelessly inside the satchel that hung from her shoulder sings a chorus of metal tips against metal with every step down she takes. This is Luxeanna's first time heading down the newly built basement; she'd heard talks about it, how beautiful it was - and when she finally reaches the last step, through the narrow hallway, she realizes that the rumors weren't false (contrary to how they usually are). The room was decorated in, well, Salvian colors: the proud shade of blue and yellow. It was lighted in a way to mimic a kind of serenity, and Luxeanna didn't want it any other way. She embeds it in her head to thank Giliath the next time she sees him for choosing warm colors; for it gets her creative juices flowing.
The elven bard stops in the center of a cross intersection. To her left is a hallway; and she vividly remembers how Giliath had told her earlier her study was towards there. A look to her right and she's greeted by a longer hallway, and it seems to lead to a large room with hints of bookcases and the glimpse of a fireplace could immediately be noticed. The growing pain on her hands reminds her of the weight she was carrying, and she decides to turn left towards her study to rid herself of it first. Several rooms were carved into the walls; the first one she comes across is another bard's study, then a sign that reads: book vault. This must be what Giliath was talking about when he meant a vault for the original copies of their books. A few steps forward and she finds her name on a sign. She enters, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips at the furniture arrangements that greets her. She places the said books onto the desk before she scrutinizes every corner and crevice of her study. "What can't Giliath do, seriously?" She muses to herself in amusement.
Several minutes later, Luxeanna decides to head to the right wing of the basement. As she descends a small flight of stairs, her head turns to every possible direction when she sees numerous amount of books already placed in the shelves. Most of the shelves were empty, but there were enough to make her happy. The roar and the warmth of the fireplace becomes evident the closer she gets to it, and she stares at the burning wood momentarily as if in trance; but soon breaks herself from it when she reminds herself of the main reason why she was here. Pulling down the hood that covered her head, she takes one good sniff: the smell of wood, fire, old and new books mixed together in one, this makes her happy.
I could live with this.