You know what they say about absence and love...

[Soso]

Soso's finger glided slowly across the polished, pristine shelves, eyes scanning the ancient tomes of knowlegde, cathcing the title of each in the corner of her eye. Every so often, she would pull out a binding, here and there, lost in thought, warmth and comfort.
The smell of leather and must clung heavily to her senses and she savoured every breath, allowing, if only for a short while, to be caught in the memory of a library of past, much like the one around her. Soso's fingers tapered away from the books, coming once more to rest at her side, as she progressed through the labryinth of shelves. Sometimes she would look to the skylights, but her gaze mostly stayed with the shelves, safeguarding the knowlegde within them.

[Dearg]

The still of the library was not still much longer. A gust of air swept through the shelves, small tornados forming between the rows. Books and pieces of paper were swept into the air, lifted and swept back to the sorce of the pulling wind. In the corner, if one was there to look, a black gaping hole had opened in the wall. Misted red cloud-like formations ghosting in a vortex of wind.

Out of this hole stepped a man, dressed formally in a tailored uniform. It was that of an army officer, but looking like nothing normal for Lamiere. The man had flaming orange hair and purple eyes flicked around to look at his surroundings. With a snap of his fingers the vortex behind him shrank into non-existance with a slurping noise. The man looked around at the library and sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"This isn't Hotep..." he mentioned dully as he looked around. He looked around a bit before rolling his shoulders, "Might as well have a look around..."

[Soso]

Soso paused at the sudden noise, then turned quickly, facing the direction from which the disruptive wind had come from. Her eyes narrowed in great irritation. Do people have no respect for literature anymore? She thought with great disdain. The noise had broken the austere reverie she was was under; the wearing on of time and constant haunting nightmares had taught Soso to treasure such moments, so it was no great surprise when frustration welled up within her. She march, a little less gracefully, through the forest of shelves. She intended on giving the intruder a severe reprimand, and even a lesson on library etiquette, should she feel that the perpetrator deserved it.