m e k h i (incomplete)

t e n

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t e n

Mekhi learnt that Ember had a very short attention span.

Through the small walk in the dimly lit hallways, she stopped several times with an open mouth to adore the beauty of the hallway.

They deeper they ventured, the more extravagant it became and the less modernised it was. It was untouched, revelling in traditional style. The carpet was a brash grey, and the walls were painted with a deep burgundy maroon. There were several small decorations perched upon polished mahogany tables, and a few lamps were lit with fire.

Ember's favourite thing to admire, were the several paintings strewn across the wall. They were high up, meaning she had to perch up on her tiptoes and crane her head as high as it could go. It was worth it because she got to see Mekhi's lineage.

His ancestors were beautiful, and it was clear the genes were very strong. All had rich-honey skin, a dark mop of hair and teal hues. Though, none of their eyes were as intense or shattered as the current King's. They even all had the same tattooed fingers, which makes Ember think it's just another thing passed down.

Her lips frown, once realising there's several gold frames, each without a painting, an empty slot. Her eyes lift a little upwards, to a male and female she presumes are his parents, and now no longer breathe.

Her heart thuds, eyes widening as she pauses for the seventh time, legs lingering.

Mekhi halts once again, ears picking up that her movements have stilled. His head turns again, a small sigh skimming from his throat as he spots what has captivated her attention. He back tracks a little, inked fingers hesitant as they close around her palm.

He turns before amber hues clash with him, a gentle and loose grip pulling her behind him, the beast encouraging her to keep up. He doesn't see the warm red that paints her cheek, and her form becoming a little flustered with the contact.

It's another few more moments, and he suddenly stops before a large, broad set of doors. The very tops are tinged with the tiniest bit of dust, telling the wolf not many ever ventured here. The doors open with a loud creak, and her senses fall onto nothing but a plunge of darkness, thick and opaque.

The lights come on, and her eyes have to blink a few times.

A soft gasp falls from her lips, body mindlessly stepping forward as her hand falls from the King's grip. Her steps are small and slow, her body circling to get a better view. Features are awed, and Mekhi softens with the expression of joy carved into her features, her eyes bright and shining.

"It's beautiful," words ushered so quietly, they barely grazed his ears.

It was a library, large and gallant in it's mirth.

It's old, and unused. She can tell, because many of the extremely tall shelves – hitching up all the way to the ceiling- are covered with white sheets. Some are bare, and left open with several leather-bound books stacked closely together. She can see some are bigger, bulkier and made with cartilage paper.

There must be hundreds of thousands of books here.

The carpet was light and fluffy beneath her feet, a deep velvet purple. Her head looks up – it was an open roof, and consisted of three balconied storeys. There are stairs in one corner, and several ladders kept near the tall bookshelves to utilise. She's a little confused once spotting several carboard boxes, all sealed and shut and stowed away. There's more things leaning against walls, covered up by the cloths too.