[ota]
Esme was sitting on the roof of the library, legs dangling over the side so her presence was very obvious, reading. She'd been there for almost twenty-four hours now, and if not for the fact that she reached out occasionally to turn a page she would have looked like some strange literary gargoyle.
Her mind was in a different place. The problem with being a) possibly immortal and b) fundamentally incapable of sleep was that - if you were even a little bit picky - you ran out of reading material really, really quickly. The catalogue of 'classics' wasn't as long for Esme as it was for some people - she'd read Dickens back when his novels were being serialised, she'd covered Shakespeare when the First Folio had been published in 1623. And since most of her favourite books had been published during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a lot of contemporary literature was just wasted on her.
But then there was the barracks. And the library, which - as small/ruined/spooky as it was - boasted a handful of books she had never seen before in the entirety of her existence. It didn't matter that the library was tiny or that every book she'd found so far was missing its ending; this, to Esme, was like food to a starving man. And while she knew that eventually she would have to do some real networking and possibly explain her appearance so that people would lay off mistaking her for a denizen of the Wood, overall she'd decided it would be more fun to catch up on her reading first.
She could hear a voice in the back of her head, lecturing her for being afraid of new people but it wasn't fear, not exactly, more like - very strong reluctance? She reached the end of the volume she was reading - well, what passed for the end in the absence of the last few scenes - and fumbled the book as she closed it, dropping it over the side of the building.
"Shit, sorry!"
[OOC: Multiple threads welcome, do please start your own. ♥ And if you haven't been smacked in the head/foot/aura by a book, then....well, she's been around for a while, so pester her anyway.]
Her mind was in a different place. The problem with being a) possibly immortal and b) fundamentally incapable of sleep was that - if you were even a little bit picky - you ran out of reading material really, really quickly. The catalogue of 'classics' wasn't as long for Esme as it was for some people - she'd read Dickens back when his novels were being serialised, she'd covered Shakespeare when the First Folio had been published in 1623. And since most of her favourite books had been published during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, a lot of contemporary literature was just wasted on her.
But then there was the barracks. And the library, which - as small/ruined/spooky as it was - boasted a handful of books she had never seen before in the entirety of her existence. It didn't matter that the library was tiny or that every book she'd found so far was missing its ending; this, to Esme, was like food to a starving man. And while she knew that eventually she would have to do some real networking and possibly explain her appearance so that people would lay off mistaking her for a denizen of the Wood, overall she'd decided it would be more fun to catch up on her reading first.
She could hear a voice in the back of her head, lecturing her for being afraid of new people but it wasn't fear, not exactly, more like - very strong reluctance? She reached the end of the volume she was reading - well, what passed for the end in the absence of the last few scenes - and fumbled the book as she closed it, dropping it over the side of the building.
"Shit, sorry!"
[OOC: Multiple threads welcome, do please start your own. ♥ And if you haven't been smacked in the head/foot/aura by a book, then....well, she's been around for a while, so pester her anyway.]