(no subject)
Who: Irene and OPEN!
Where: the Library
When: mid-morning
Warnings: none
Notes: multiple threads are totally welcome!
Shelves rose around Irene like a maze, and throughout the library there was a comforting hush - punctuated by the occasional murmur of quiet voices or the rustle of pages. She was keenly aware of the soft sound of her feet against the floor and the quiet rise and fall of her own breathing. She allowed her hands to skim idly across the spines of the books as she wandered through the space.
Sunlight was flooding into the room through the windows, and Irene felt surprisingly good, all things considered. She had risen early that morning to take a long bath, and when she returned to her room had found a simple but well-made white cotton frock folded neatly at the foot of her bed. It would be a long time, she suspected, before she got used to the oddities which seemed common-place aboard this ship. In any case, she had put on the dress, arranged her chestnut curls, and gone out to explore her new home.
It was pure luck that she'd found the library, but she was quite pleased that she had; the space had an air of studiousness and contemplation which she was drawn to. A book caught her eye - Shakespeare's Tempest. Irene slipped the slim volume, which had a purple cover and shining gold titling, from the shelf. She took a step back then, her head tilted upward, idly regarding the rest of what appeared to be the classics section.
Where: the Library
When: mid-morning
Warnings: none
Notes: multiple threads are totally welcome!
Shelves rose around Irene like a maze, and throughout the library there was a comforting hush - punctuated by the occasional murmur of quiet voices or the rustle of pages. She was keenly aware of the soft sound of her feet against the floor and the quiet rise and fall of her own breathing. She allowed her hands to skim idly across the spines of the books as she wandered through the space.
Sunlight was flooding into the room through the windows, and Irene felt surprisingly good, all things considered. She had risen early that morning to take a long bath, and when she returned to her room had found a simple but well-made white cotton frock folded neatly at the foot of her bed. It would be a long time, she suspected, before she got used to the oddities which seemed common-place aboard this ship. In any case, she had put on the dress, arranged her chestnut curls, and gone out to explore her new home.
It was pure luck that she'd found the library, but she was quite pleased that she had; the space had an air of studiousness and contemplation which she was drawn to. A book caught her eye - Shakespeare's Tempest. Irene slipped the slim volume, which had a purple cover and shining gold titling, from the shelf. She took a step back then, her head tilted upward, idly regarding the rest of what appeared to be the classics section.