Library, Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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With a final glance down the dimly lit hallway, Dorothy turned the brass doorknob and pushed the door open. The library greeted them with a hushed, almost reverent silence. Moonlight streamed through the little gaps in the tall windows, casting a gentle glow on the rows of mahogany bookshelves. The scent of old paper and leather bindings filled the air, a familiar and comforting aroma.
Joyous closed the door behind them, and they both moved deeper into the room, their footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rug that covered the wooden floor. Dorothy led the way to their lady's favourite reading nook, a cosy corner with a plush armchair and a small table, where a teacup and saucer still sat from her last visit.
Joyous narrowed her eyes, "Dorothy we cannot sit on that chair" she pointed out.
"I was only going to check it out" Dorothy lied with an embarrassed grin.
