(no subject)
[TODAY IN THE LIBRARY... Bookman's settled down at a chair, a large sheet of paper on the table in front of him. Beside him are ink wells in various colors, a quill pen set neatly next to each one. The paper already has half a poem written on it in an old English script, and the man seems content to slowly work on finishing it, arm still in a cast or no. The library's peaceful enough for now, after all.]
((Man I feel like I haven't made a post with him in forever, somehow... Come bother the Bookman!))
((Man I feel like I haven't made a post with him in forever, somehow... Come bother the Bookman!))