The fantastical decorations, the glittering lights and brocades drenched in gold, the tinkling noise of laughter and merrymaking - beneath all this Hephireus can sense a trace of foreboding. They have stolen through the nightmares of Catelia’s nobles; they know their darkest desires. So much hunger packed into one room. Practically a playground for herself and Eskarel.
But first things first - they caught wind of the book, a shrill scream in the nightmares of a woebegotten smuggler who had sold it to the House of Verdicci. The mortals who dare to behold it (fools, they think) are seized by their deepest fears; for the Nightmare Tome is not meant to be read. It reads you.
No question in Hephireus’ mind that it belongs to their Lord. That Carsvad waits, just around the corner. Imagine their pride - imagine the reward - when it finds out that their good servant was the first to lay hands on their book. Eskarel isn’t the only one who can pursue.
So they slink through the masquerade ball, charming their way through the crowd, where everyone wants to see and be seen. In another life Hephireus would be one of them, taking center stage in a gown dark as night, and threaded with black and silver beads. In this one they find the library with ease and slip through the door, cross the room on silent feet, and scan the shelves for a sign of Carsvad. I am here, they think. I am come for you.
Approaching footsteps signal unwelcome company, and Hephireus darts behind a hefty bookshelf and lets the shadows cloak her. Surely not Eskarel - not so soon. They peek over the top, intrigued by the soft green glow emanating from the figure - now seated, buried deep in a book. Whoever it is, she seems harmless enough.
She might even be helpful.
They clear their throat daintily and step out into the light, smiling softly at the stranger. “Not one for a party, I assume,” Hephireus says. “I hate to disturb a fellow recluse, but I wonder if I might ask for your help in locating a book. You seem very well-read.”
the stranger is decidedly… difficult to look at. it’s not for want of their appearance - they were actually quite attractive - but there is an aura about them that is… it’s hard to put into words. mysterious, definitely, but also something… otherwordly? and not in a good way.
“ oh , i don’t work here, if that’s what you’re asking. ” though well-read is certainly the understatement of the century. truth be told, every nerve in lucky’s body was telling her that she should do everything she could to leave, and as quickly as possible. and it’s a shame, really, because this is the sort of thing lucky not only excels at, but absolutely adores to do.
but nonetheless, she makes a very pointed gesture to return to her book, in a hopeless effort to send the stranger away as politely as possible (because why should she leave when she was here first), but when it was apparent that was undoubtedly not going to happen, she says, “ i think i saw a directory towards the back of the library, if that’s any help to you.”
her eyes glance over the person’s shoulder, at a new figure entering the library. “ did you bring company? or does everyone feel the need to escape the madness upstairs? ”
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