wc 228
Davyn lost himself rather quickly in the tomes of knowledge that the books offered to him. It was almost like the books spoke to him, begging to be read so that they could share the words with such a willing victim. Not that he was a victim, more like an willing accomplice. He couldn't get enough of the written word; literature was a drug to him.
His nose was deeply buried in one particular book when he smelled and heard someone coming up behind him. He heard whoever it was stop, and felt their eyes upon him before they finally spoke. He turned at the words, bowed. "I am indeed. Might I ask who you might be, milady?" His wrods were polite, betraying none of the annoyance at being disturbed in his study.
This female was oddly colored. His mind wandered briefly to a story he had read about Achilles and his mother. Achilles' mother had wanted him to be immune to death, and so took him by the ankle and dipped him into the river Styxx. In doing so, she left one vulnerable spot on his body--his ankle. That vulnerable spot brought on his death... Davyn shook his head, coming back to the dusty setting of the library. The female looked as if her parents had endeavored to dip one side of her into an inkpot.
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