@stcrwrought / from x
how appropriate the other would catch him just so ── with his face buried intently in a book. silver nails tap expectantly against hard cover as he keeps his eyes directed down in the ink of the pages. it is only when he realizes that the other has no clear intentions on leaving without an answer that they draw away, narrowing at the shaggy mess of a man standing before him. the light of the evening glistens against the shimmering freckles on his face. though they paint a noble, elegant image, the warm colors of the day only highlight the irritation in his features. he closes the book in his hand, leaving the thumb of his finger between the pages he’d abandoned like a bookmark that he might return to it momentarily .
❝ they don’t so much as make a library as they do place books and such about willy-nilly and call it as such, ❞ his tone is sharp, much like the stare he locks the other in. ❝ anyone can tidy up a place and gild it in gold and call it a library. but all i see is an excessive display of books they happened to find muddled up in a closet somewhere. they could at least take the time to organize it a little better . ❞
though he cared not to admit it, the places in which he had visited in silvermoon hadn’t failed to catch his attention. only once or twice now had he gone, making preparations to relocate himself as he saw fit. the stores and libraries he’d seen were acceptable enough. to say they were up to the impossibly high standards he’d naturally set for them, though, was a long shot. in any case, caelius found nothing worthwhile about them to talk about. especially not in the presence of a washed-up stranger .
Veros can only grin at the other man’s reaction, amused by him, yet not surprised at the tone. Such attitude was something he was used to, and in a state like this, tipsy and bored, it was something Veros also actively sought out. A part of him knows this is troublesome of him to prod at strangers, but one too many glasses egged him on anyways.
“Such is an attitude so many share since the barrier’s gone down,” Veros says, tapping at the glass bottle he held. “You would think that by now, that kind of arrogance and presumptuous behavior would dissolve. The outside world has no room for the picky and the noble. With the city free -- we’re all equals again.”
A hiccup slips, and he laughs at himself for it. Stars damn him for finding too many things around him so unnecessarily amusing and humorous. “Suppose it doesn’t matter. Who can possibly get bored of reading the same books circulating around Suramar for centuries? Oh, how dare any library share the same colors and aesthetic that no one is tired of after so long?” He presses a hand to his chest dramatically, as if having been theatrically wounded. “Muddled up books have knowledge still. Everything has something new to offer to you -- but perhaps you’re not nearly as well-read as you make yourself out to be, walking around with a book held up like a hunter’s target, oh how grand. Live a little, read something else.”