Finally, after an interminable struggle, Lolo cleared the crowd and passed into the open air of the final stretch to the Guild. He loved this particular stretch of the walk. Whatever else may be happening in the city, here it was rarely busy. The spacious covered hall leading to yet more (though less frequented) docks housed the thick salt smell and quiet, wet rock that was present throughout the city, but here there were no hawkers, no officers and captains and sailors and beggars. No one loitered here, no one but the studious.Â
Small clusters of novices and apprentices were often seen discussing readings and lectures excitedly, exhaustedly. Masters and professors stood apart during their own breaks, smoking pensively. This was Lolo's place to breathe before stepping into his beloved Guild. He had been away for several weeks and so, under normal circumstances, would have paused to take it all in, to participate, perhaps, in the unofficial ceremony of it all. But today he simply wanted to get inside, to go to some secluded section of the library where he could fan out his robes and tend to his scrapes and bruises. And to read and take his mind far away from the heat and the pitfalls of the day.
Staring down the front of his now wet, stretched, and dirtied robe, Lolotaru didn't see the miqo'te until he'd almost stepped on her tail and run into her knees. Startled, his hand reflexively moved to his pocket as he hurriedly mumbled a "pardon." He looked up and a pair of dark eyes looked back. Him standing, her seated, her gaze met his and their eyes locked.
Small clusters of novices and apprentices were often seen discussing readings and lectures excitedly, exhaustedly. Masters and professors stood apart during their own breaks, smoking pensively. This was Lolo's place to breathe before stepping into his beloved Guild. He had been away for several weeks and so, under normal circumstances, would have paused to take it all in, to participate, perhaps, in the unofficial ceremony of it all. But today he simply wanted to get inside, to go to some secluded section of the library where he could fan out his robes and tend to his scrapes and bruises. And to read and take his mind far away from the heat and the pitfalls of the day.
Staring down the front of his now wet, stretched, and dirtied robe, Lolotaru didn't see the miqo'te until he'd almost stepped on her tail and run into her knees. Startled, his hand reflexively moved to his pocket as he hurriedly mumbled a "pardon." He looked up and a pair of dark eyes looked back. Him standing, her seated, her gaze met his and their eyes locked.
