Today was different. Sara and I remained at the upper floor of the library, sorting through historical tomes in hopes that there would be hints about blood-wielders there.
She was shuffling through the shelves behind me, humming some kind of melody. And while I was skimming the titles on the spines, I felt as though I was slipping between my consciousness and reality. I was distracted, but somehow I believed there was nowhere else for me to go but here.
The library was peaceful, and the thought of being surrounded by towers of books provided a sense of comfort in me. This place had a calming effect, with the papery scent hanging prominent in the air soothing out any despair that was beginning to take root after the disappointment this morning.
