Closed The Snake in the Library (Khrassvallen)

[Castor Riley]

Day 5, Summer of 513 AV Around 15th Bell Another day, another miza. Castor was again working at the library. In the beginning of the season at least, his services as a librarian were much more required than his services as a scribe, and that's what he was doing, helping new students acclimate to the library's reference system and layout. It had been exactly a season since Castor had bumbled into the town of Zeltiva, starting his journey of knowledge. Back then the library had been incredibly daunting, with its rows and rows of books, incredibly high ceiling and maze-like corridors. Now, it was still quite daunting, but at least he didn't get lost (as often) when roaming the stacks. Castor inhaled the scent of the library deeply. The smell of old books had always been one he loved. He ran his fingers along the spines of the sturdy leather tomes, walking down one of the many corridors, before turning towards the main one and the entrance. He had always felt safe within the thick walls, protected almost, in stark contrast with the suffocating ones of Syliras. The library, at least for him, brimmed with possibility. The lines of busts devoted to the different deities stretched on either side of Castor, from the entrance to the far end of the great hall. He stood in front of one of those devoted to Eyris, goddess of knowledge and wisdom, contemplating the contours of the divine face. A beautiful goddess, to be sure. Her face had been fashioned as that of a young, human woman. Even though Castor had learnt the hard way not to expect too much of the gods, he still deeply respected those related to learning and knowledge, such as Eyris and Qalaya. He offered up a quick prayer for a clear mind and discerning eye, standing with his eyes closed and hands resting on either side of the podium the bust was stood on.

[Khrassvallen]

Khrassvallen had to give the humans some credit where it was due. They sure could construct fine buildings. Even as a youngster he'd heard mentionings of this library, especially from his aunt. She had always been a bit of a knowledge seeker, even hoarded some books back at the nest. He'd once been allowed to examine a few of the less fragile ones. They were old, thick tomes bound in leather with filmy pages that seemed like they'd crumble in his fingers. They smelled a lot like this library, to be honest, though the scent was stronger here. Ink, leather, paper, and age, magnified by their sheer numbers resting on the multitude of shelves. Khrassvallen craned his neck and looked up at the soaring ceiling, feeling strangely small. Curiosity had driven him here. He wanted to explore every nook and cranny of the city by the time he left, even if he didn't know when that would actually be. He'd spent the entirety of last year in Syliras, and still felt he'd missed a few sights. But the Knights were starting to suspect that he had something to do with the people that had gone missing over the year. And with good reason. After all, it had been him, but he couldn't be blamed for that. It wasn't his fault he had to eat and the fat Sylirans were too slow to get away. Survival of the fittest. But he preferred to keep his head, so he'd cleared out. Khrassvallen wandered forward without knowing or caring where he was heading. He just wanted to view the rows. He also guessed it would be rather easy to get lost in this maze of knowledge, so he was a tad reluctant to start weaving all over the place. He just so happened to look over to his left and by chance see Castor. For a moment he stopped, feeling a little confused. The human looked familiar, and Khrassvallen didn't know why. He'd never been here before, and the man looked a lot more at home than he did. Then why...? Suddenly the realization hit him. "I know you," he stated rather loudly, breaking the thick silence around them and probably interrupting something. The human did look deep in thought, after all. He glanced at the statue he was with. A Goddess probably, but he didn't know which. It wasn't Siku so he couldn't think of any reason to care.

[Castor Riley]

A sudden voice brought Castor out of his thoughts with a start. He looked to its source and saw a man there looking back at him. The man was slightly taller than Castor, with dark hair and eyes of a startling blue. The only people he'd met with such eyes had been at least part Svefra. He wondered if that were true of the strange man, as he also wondered where he might have met him. Then, suddenly, the memory of the beef returned to him. Castor almost recoiled, when he'd realised the man's identity with the man who had acted so rudely at Leila's opening event. The foreigner, who had taken one look at the beef and pawed all over what part of the succulent meat he hadn't already taken for himself. Castor had not had the stomach to eat the beef he'd so wanted to taste after that. Having this new information, Castor decided that he couldn't be Svefra; even though Hannah had been forward and had clearly violated the rules of polite society, she had been aware of doing so. This man had done all he did in a manner that implied a complete lack of awareness of any. Castor took his hands away from the sides of Eyris' podium, rubbing them where the corners had slightly dug into his palms. "Ah, yes, I remember. From the party at the new herbalist shop. I don't believe I ever caught your name," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Castor Riley. I work here as a librarian. Was there something you required help with?" Castor was far too professional to allow his petty grievance to get in the way of his job, though he couldn't help being a little colder and detached than he usually was. The man's display at the party took away some of Castor's usual curiosity about the various unique visitors that came to the library. Still, he tried to focus on the foreigness of the man, and the possibility of learning about a different culture as he waited for the man's reply.

[Khrassvallen]

Khrassvallen smiled a forked an eyebrow. He was sure the human remember his less than acceptable behavior at the party, which was fine. He wanted to be remembered for being different than them. He didn't want to be categorized as anything like the humans. That would be like thinking a wolf wanted to be like a a rabbit, or a fawn. Maybe they just thought he was a foreign ass, but that was alright. Technically, in a way, he was. Definitely foreign, not quite an ass. At least not in his opinion. Just indifferent and superior. "What isss thiss phrassse? Catching my name? Impossssible. How are you a keeper of bookss, if you think one can catch a name? It isss a word, not an object." Idiot. "I am looking for a book on art. Sssculpting, preferably." Preferably was a word he'd learned just recently in Common. He quite liked it. Khrassvallen glanced at a few towering shelves, realizing how many there could be on that subject. "Ssculpting with clay. And one on human anatomy. Organsss." He knew he still hadn't introduced himself, which was fine with him. He wanted to frustrate the man more, make him think he was rude, possibly barbaric. Khrassvallen played this game a lot. Molding the impressions people had of him, and then letting them in on the act. He sauntered over to Castor, stopping at his side. "Lead on," he ordered, half smiling, and wholly amused.

[Castor Riley]

Castor listened as the man spoke, amazed at the man's capacity to mix ignorance and insults with such proficiency. He seemed to have a preternatural knack for saying just the wrong thing. "I guess that's the reason then," he said, mirthlessly. He couldn't blame the man for not being fluent in Common -- after all, he didn't even pick up on the social cue to introduce himself -- but to parade one's ignorance so arrogantly was something that went against most everything Castor believed in. Hearing the man's request would have normally interested him greatly; it was not often that people came to the library for books on sculpting. However, he got the definite feeling that too much interaction with this man would be extremely frustrating for him. He was careful, however, not to let any of these thoughts appear on his face, freezing his expression in a professional smile. "Well, sir, if you'll just follow me, I'll take you to the Arts and Crafts section." The man's smile was starting to get on his nerves. It made Castor feel as though the man were mocking him somehow, delighting in getting under his skin. He began walking towards their destination, trusting that the man would follow, but not as bothered as to whether he actually did.

[Khrassvallen]

Khrassvallen had to look away to hide his smile, masking it with an attempt to appear distracted by the rows of books. This one was too easy to mess with. Sometimes he marveled at how sensitive humans were. Why couldn't they be calloused and strong? And smart? Above all, their intelligence often seemed pretty laughable. He followed along quietly, for a while, watching this Castor while his back was turned. Khrassvallen tilted his head, examining the way he moved. Stiff, unrelaxed, possibly annoyed. Body language always told the truth, even if it was imperceptible. Hunters had to be able to read like that. People were like books, just without written words. There were so many signals, scents, sounds, that could be registered. And it wasn't all that noticeable. He could just tell by the way the human walked, like he had a femur stuck up in his ass, that he wasn't too pleased by his company. Khrassvallen quickened his step for a moment, moving a little closer to Castor so he could lean in and stiff the back of his head. Clean and healthy. He twisted his head around to look at the fingers hanging at his sides. Not a hard worker, by the looks of it. His hands were too smooth, too neat. Accidentally, Khrassvallen stepped on the back of Castor's heel, so he quickly backpedaled, putting space between them again. No apology, though. "Watch your feet," he ordered, then smiled, knowing the human would get all puffed up at that. "You are clumsssy, too, yess?" His shoulders shook with silent laughter, though the breath whistling through his teeth sounded, rather fittingly, like a wheezy hiss.

[Castor Riley]

Castor hardly ever got angry. That was just a fact. If he didn't like a person, he didn't get mad, he just stopped caring about them and ignored them. This technique, that had met with much success in the past, was impossible to use when it's part of one's job to pay attention to the irritating person. Thus, Castor found himself slowly getting frustrated, irritated by the man's every move. As the two walked towards the desired section of the library, Castor suddenly got the feeling of someone being very much in his personal space. He thought he was just imagining the slight tingle on the back of his neck, when he heard a very distinct sound in the silence of the library. 'Was that a sniff?' He thought to himself incredulously. 'What kind of animal would actually do such a...' He started a thought that suddenly led him down a series of interconnections: the strange behaviour, lack of manners, the beef. However, Castor was quickly brought out of this train of thought by a sudden, sharp pain in his foot as the man stood on his heel. "Woah there," he gasped as he tripped, taking a couple of unbalanced steps before evening out. He looked behind him sharply at the man's absurd order, only to see him smile widely. After literally adding insult to injury, his shoulders began shaking violently and a hissing sound was clearly audible. The man seemed to be laughing. Though normally being one to enjoy making others laugh, Castor felt that this joke had gone far enough. "Excuse me, sir, but do you really want to learn anything here or not? I can assure you that there would be little hope of you finding the Arts and Crafts section without librarian assistance -- in a library filled with hundreds upon hundreds of magical tomes and history books you are basically looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Now, there are plenty of other people that would be more appreciative of a librarian's help that I could be helping right now, while there are almost no librarians that would take the time to show such a rude visitor around. If you could try to be a bit civil, I'm sure we can eventually part having both of us achieved our purposes." He ended his uncharacteristically long and exasperated tirade and crossed his hands, looking at the man. "And most animals know it's only polite to introduce oneself," he added, waiting for his response.

[Khrassvallen]

So this one had a boiling point. Khrassvallen licked his teeth, barely batting an eye at the indignant speech. He couldn't be scolded by a human, and so any attempt of them ever doing so just made him enjoy playing with them that much more. He was glad, though, that he could actually assert himself, even if it was just to a degree, because he was sure he could rip this Castor's arm out of its socket before he had time to register which direction was up or down. All this man's frustration did to him was feed Khrassvallen's drive to keep prodding, so to speak. But there was one thing he wouldn't tolerate, and that was being called an animal. He was above this human on the food chain by several levels, so if anyone was the animal, it was him, because he was nothing but a possible meal, at the moment. Khrassvallen strolled around to Castor's side, putting the bookcase at his other side, similar to penning in a cow when cutting it from the herd, but he didn't face him. He gave the human a sidelong stare, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I am ssssorry," he lied, rather obviously, because he was still smiling. "Pleassse, lead on. I wissh to sssee thesse booksss of yourss. I will ssstay next to you, sso I do not ssstep on your foot." Khrassvallen turned now, and moved closer, his smile gone. "Jussst do you not call me an animal," he hissed, but in a flash his smile was back, once again amused and jovial. "If you do, I will break your spine, alright?" He took a long stride back and pivoted on his heel, once more facing the direction they'd been walking. "My name is Khrassssvallen," he finally relented, then glanced back at Castor, wrestling with holding back his silent laughter that had returned. "Please," he said, just as he had earlier. "Lead on."

[Castor Riley]

Castor's anger passed as suddenly as it had come and when it did, he immediately regretted and was ashamed of his words. Hearing the man's response, he felt the difference in his attitude towards him. What he had thought before to be malice, he now realised had only been entertainment. Now, however, the man was no longer entertained; he was amused, but there was a vicious edge to it. Castor's blood ran cold when the man threatened to break his spine, and Castor had not a doubt in his mind that he could have done it in a heartbeat. The only question in his mind was why he hadn't. "I am so sorry," he said, stricken, remorse clear in his expression, "I don't know what came over me, I have never spoken that way to a person in my life." Castor felt sickened at his own conduct. "Saying such a thing to someone, just for having bad manners... I am truly the animal here." He was visibly distraught, as he turned to continue on the way to the desired section, one shaky hand distractedly scratching the back of his head. The threat on his life was hardly registering as a reason for this state; he believed the foreigner to have had every right to respond in such a manner to his deplorable treatment. The fact that Castor had had the capacity for such inside of him was what had shaken him to his core. He did not use Khrassvallen's name; he would feel dirty doing so, having obtained it in such a fashion. "Please, follow me, sir," he said, unsteadily. "And thank you," he didn't feel the need to say why, certain they both knew the reason. Castor now felt that he was in this man's debt.

[Khrassvallen]

Khrassvallen didn't follow suit immediately. He watched this Castor walk ahead several paces, visibly shaken. But not in the way he expected. The human thought he was the beast here? If only the poor child would turn around, he would see the pure amusement dancing across the Dhani's face. How tame the boy was, thinking a defensive outburst was uncivilized. Oh, how sheltered he must be. If only he knew what Khrassvallen did in privacy with prey. He tsk tsked quietly to himself, folding his arms across his broad chest and shaking his head as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Humans never failed to surprise and entertain him. How he loved them so. But for all the wrong reasons.

He didn't even bother replying to the boy's thanks. It was such a ridiculous show of gratitude that he couldn't even accept it. Why would someone thank him for threatening to kill them? Oh, the wonder of it all. Maybe he'd missed a memo. When did humans become masochists? Perhaps it was just this peculiar one in particular. None of the others sure liked his threats, or the pain. Khrassvallen smiled fondly at the memories. As they walked along, he looked around at the bookshelves flanking them. Massive collections, reaching high toward the ceiling. He couldn't lie, it was very impressive. Offhandedly, he plucked a book from the shelf closest to him. It was a light blue, like a pastel, with some strange symbol embossed on the cover. It looked a tiny bit familiar, but he couldn't place it.

He'd seen too many symbols in his life, though he was still young, and he would see many more. It was impossible to remember them all. Khrassvallen turned to a random page in the book.

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Mura, as a whole, is one of the mos-

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Khrassvallen snapped the book shut with disinterested finality. Several yards further down the shelf, he stuck it back in an open slope, close to the floor. Let them put that back in order. He grinned to himself, enjoying the little act of mischief. But he really didn't want to read that book anyways. He had no interest in any Konti or her home. They wouldn't like him anyways. He was too carnal for their liking, he imagined. And the scales would probably get stuck in Khrassvallen's teeth.