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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2013 22:30:54 GMT
Zhenya moved past the merchants vying for the attention of the street ("Sir, look at these fine cloths!" "I'm sure this elven blade would be of interest to you!" "Most beautiful jewelery you'll find anywhere, perhaps for the lady?"), occasionally pushing the too-zealous seller aside. What they had was of no interest; she was looking for was much more quiet, something more quaint than the vividly-colored good surrounding her.
When she saw the faded leather and worn covers, cracked parchment and faded pages, she made a beeline for the stall. Zhenya acknowledged the bookkeeper with a nod, running her rough fingers over the bound volumes. She couldn't read them, of course -- it seemed her mother feared teaching her, and her father had never been around to do so. It was almost like magic, really. Those who could make the scribbles on the page turn into sounds and words, tales of adventure and discovery -- those were the people she respected.
She didn't know what to choose, so she glanced down at the merchant. "Which one?" Her voice was rough, deep, but devoid of animosity. Zhenya was simply curious. The old woman silently gestured at a book that seemed to be almost falling apart. Without hesitation, she picked it up. "How much?"
@tikva
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2013 0:40:17 GMT
She caught little more than a glimpse of white hair, hardly enough to pique her interest. Still, she'd already been to many of the more promising stalls, and found nothing worth her time. Idly, Galya sidled up beside the other shopper, casting a quick glance over the available books.
Authored by humans, no doubt. Elven tomes tended to be of higher quality parchment and lasted longer, as well as being far more interesting than the unorganized scribbles of people who had banal lives and equally bland goals and stories, all written of course in a platitudinous fashion. If she never had to hear another comparison to the "strong trunk of an oak tree" or the "deep roats of winter thistle"....
Her voice caught for a moment, still thick with the stiffness of morning. Clearing her throat, she gazed at the buyer. "That one's been well loved." She slid her eyes towards the cover, trying to catch a glimpse of the title.
@tuyet
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2013 3:46:58 GMT
She cast the briefest of glances at the person who appeared beside her. Another shopper. There was a vague feeling of irritation -- being in the presence of another wasn't something that Zhenya enjoyed, but even the urge to walk away was quelled. (It was too much of a bother to do so, anyway.)
Zhenya ignored the woman's eyes on her, even dismissing the fact that she had spoken. Instead, Zhenya paid for the book, placing the requested amount in the shopkeeper's palm. She nodded at the old woman and turned to walk away before pausing.
She held the cover out to the one beside her. "What does it say."
@tikva
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2013 5:07:29 GMT
She waited patiently as the woman paid for her book, and in the end, that paid off. Galya had been about to give up and move on when at last the woman turned to her and spoke. A quick peek at the book showed her it wasn't written in anything unusual, merely in common. But nonetheless, she did as she was asked. "The Knight of the North," she read aloud. "Nabar Lysinge." A quick glance up at Zhenya, and she considered commenting on the author- a well known historian and tactician- but it was best to let the other person lead, if one wanted to get into their good graces. @tuyet tagged
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Post by Deleted on Aug 8, 2013 20:25:19 GMT
Knights. It sounded like an adventure story, perhaps. Zhenya felt a small amount of satisfaction in her choice -- those were her favorite. The name, however, was unfamiliar. "Nabar Lysinge." She didn't recognize it; she rarely ever did. The woman did not care for names. They could be falsified so easily. (No, faces were more important.)
She inclined her head at the other woman, as thanks, and turned to walk away before another book caught her attention. Black spine, not-quite-faded gold lettering, arcane symbols pressed into the cover. It was a small book, smaller than the rest, but something about it ... interested her.
Zhenya reached out to touch it. "This one?" She looked down at the girl next to her. What did it say?
@tikva
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2013 18:48:02 GMT
Though the first book had a certain historical charm to it, it wasn't anything worth dwelling on. This one, though- Galya reached out delicately, running her fingers over the gold symbols. "Early Elven runes," she said. Manners kept her from plucking the book from Zhenya's hands, but she dearly wanted to take a closer look at it. "... May I?" @tuyet tagged
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2013 18:56:27 GMT
Early Eleven runes.
Mikhail would certainly like that one.
Zhenya paused for a moment when the girl asked for the book. There shouldn't be any harm in doing so, but on the off chance she was a thief -- well, she could cross that bridge when she got to it.
The woman handed it over without a word. She wasn't human, it seemed, but she didn't seem drow either. Zhenya sighed quietly and waited for her to finish.
@tikva
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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2013 16:46:24 GMT
Galya turned the book over in her hands, and gently slid open the front cover. Though magic was her area of expertise, most runes were beyond her; certainly she'd never even heard of any so ancient as these. The pages were high quality and unfaded, though they did carry the scent parchment tended to pick up once it had been sitting untouched for centuries. The slightly musty smell only added to her interest, however. Reluctantly, she handed the book back to Zhenya. "I've never seen runes this old before..." she glanced again at Zhenya, as if trying to figure her out. "Are you looking to learn magic?" Because if there was anything she could use to get her hands on this book for a while, she'd be willing. Offering to teach the basics in exchange for a peek at the information in the aged sheets would be worth it. @tuyet tagged
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