but resplendent we are not [closed]

[Kin/diablo]

Hal leaned closer. There was something about the symbols that nagged at him, something vaguely familiar about the shapes of the writing on the page. He was hesitant to handle the parchment, fearing that it would crumble under his touch, but he reached out anyway, though for what, he didn't know. A short bout of coughing from behind him snapped him from his thoughts and he withdrew his hand, turning to look at Cantrell just as the garlanger approached them.

He glanced back down at the writing as the strange faerie spoke. "No," he said, "I cannot read goblin." There was no guilt or shame in his voice -- just a simple statement of fact. "There is much that I don't remember, but I think the language of the goblins is one that I have never learned, though perhaps I have forgotten learning it."

Straightening from his crouch, Hal turned to face the garlanger. "My name is Hal. Tell me, Ciodar, librarian of Alanor -- is there something in particular that we should seek here? The amount of knowledge that you possess is beyond me."

[Cantrell]

Cantrell continued to look around at the books and other strange documents. There wasn't much here other than that. He was almost surprised when another faerie revealed himself in such a deserted looking place. The resident of this place appeared to be a human garlanger who had been aging for many years. Ciodar appeared to be nearing the end of his natural life span. Poor fellow.

The elderly man did not seem to pose a threat, being old and human and all, so Cantrell sheathed his weapon. There was nothing to talk about, and the dust was irritating so he decided to just keep his mouth closed.

[Skylla]

Though most would have hesitated around the faerie with a drawn weapon, Ciodar did not. He had not even looked at Cantrell’s blade and paid it no mind when he sheathed it, no more relaxed in his posture than he was before.

He moved to a shelf, scanning the row of books with a curled finger. The spines of the books were worn, some nearly falling off and others just faded. He giggled, a seedy sound, one seeming even more feeble coming from his rat-like appearance. “Oh? Imagine that, my knowledge greater than a nimbus’s.” He turned to face Hal, “I never thought I’d see the day.” The words were condescending and riddled with an age old bitterness that had been stewing in his person for what seemed like a long time.

“I know many things, Hal. I remember the things your kind has chosen to forget. So it all depends, are you the kind to heed the warnings of the past?” He continued to inch towards Hal and Cantrell, eying them both with a strange glean and a knowing smirk. Cantrell had yet to speak, and Ciodar was content to believe the man was a mute or an idiot.

[Cantrell]

Cantrell was growing irritated with Ciodar. The shrilly voice scratched at his nerves, and the old man's actions seemed disrespectful to the younger human. He was beginning to regret that he put his blade away. The old man didn't appear to be peaceful after all. It was obvious that Ciodar held a grudge of some sorts against the nimbus that had grown bitter with age. The way the elder looked and him and Hal also tugged on Marcus's strings. Old man or not, he would have to be dealt with appropriately.

"Choose your words carefully, old man. You are nothing more than a mortal human, and an old one at that. Knowledge will do you little good if you choose to insult Death when he stands before you." His voice was cold, but not a trace of anger would be found in it. "And get that disgusting look off your face." Old habits were kicking in, but Cantrell didn't mind too much. After all, he had spend most of his life in the business of dealing death and putting people in their place. What difference would one more human make?

But nearly as soon as the words left his mouth, Cantrell knew he shouldn't have spoken in such a manner. "My apologies. Old habits are hard to break."

[Kin/diablo]

Hal didn't quite know what to do with this condescending little garlanger, whose words rankled in a way that made him itch to get his fingers around the old man's neck. Still, Ciodar's smugness probably meant that he thought he knew something useful. Whether or not this was actually the case, though... He didn't want to anger the other faerie until he found out.

At any rate, the younger garlanger's posturing and ill temper had probably been enough to stand in for both of them, and they were both armed in case this strange librarian tried anything. A few moments of modesty, feigned or not, were not a big loss to Hal, especially compared to the rest of his relatively long life -- and besides, this was what he did, had been doing for as long as he could remember.

So he cast his gaze downwards and, when Cantrell finally shut his mouth, proceeded as if the other Unseelie hadn't spoken at all. "I give all warnings their fair consideration," he said. "Do you have one for us?"

[Skylla]

Ciodar was a little shocked by Cantrell’s threats, though he wasn’t entirely frightened. He was a much older faerie than Marcus and judging by the man’s words, he didn’t know how the faerie blood that coursed through their veins would keep them alive. Ciodar was aged, wizened by the stressed that he endured throughout his entire life but many human garlangers retained their youth until the very day they were slain. Ciodar’s old age was a testament to his vitality; he wouldn’t be easy to kill.

He arched an eyebrow at Marcus but simply nodded, “As you wish.” He turned to Hal and nodded, no longer did he smirk or smile, but he was rather serious. However, he seemed less inclined to give clues to the faerie now.

“Look around if you like, the library is open to all who seek knowledge.” He walked towards the candle holder on the wind sill and lifted it, blowing it out. Without looking at either faerie he disappeared down a hallway, going about his business as usual.

(OOC: From this point out it is assumed that the library is public knowledge. Unless both of you object to others knowing the location, it will become a discovered place in the Mists.)