Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⤷ Beast Beneath the Moonlight
"Now, you're much more familiar with this library than I am. Which book do you believe I should read?"
The small boy, with deep blue eyes, tilts his head as he gazes over the old shelves. Each slab of wood was old and beginning to rot, defunct seeds fostered by mold. That's why the gentleman in front of the small boy seemed far too out of place.
Like water and oil, he simply did not fit in with his surroundings.
"...I've never seen that one before."
Following the direction of the boy's pointed finger, the man spots the exact book he's pointing to, resting on a self. Just as out of place as the man.
Bookshelves lined the wall like vines on a building long since reclaimed by nature. Quiet with whispers of people and memories long passed, gently brushing through the air like the first wind of winter. Every room in the institution had a sense of forlornity to it, like the sadness of those around it seeped into the cracks.
The man approached the old bookcase and with a single finger, he delicately touched the ornate golden binding of the ivory book. It had a firm weight in his hand, like it was finally returning home.
It was a simple book, one with no title or author. Golden flourishes swirl around the middle, as if waiting for just one person to claim it. Even after all the years of waiting silently, it was smooth to the touch. Waiting, as pristine as ever, for his return.
Eyes as sharp as a cat's examine the old book. It hadn't changed a bit since the last time he saw it. Sharp eyes softened as they glazed over with a certain melancholy that seemed to sweep over him at once.
The small boy with dull blue eyes peaked over his shoulder. "Is something the matter? I've never seen the book before, so I'm not sure if it's good or not. We have other ones, you know."
The man was odd, there was no doubt about that. But in the few moments the boy had known him, he knew that look of distant, guilty fondness was not something usual. He, too, had an odd air about him. Dignified yet othered.
As if he didn't truly belong anywhere. Just as out of place as the strange book.
The man with hair resembling that of the fur pattern of a calico cat shook off the ancient recollection with a soft shake of the head. A gentle smile placed on his lips, he looked at the book with unmistakable nostalgia. "No, this book will do. And I believe you'll enjoy hearing about it as well."
