the war between butterflies and nets
#1
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The door slowly opened with an eerie groan and a squeak of protest. The white claw wrapped roughly about the handle released the rusty knob and gingerly entered the building. The sharp eyes of the wolf-dog hybrid glanced around the dark lobby, the bleak light from outside unable to reach the innards of the building due to the ivy and grime covering the windows. Dust swirled about his white feet as he stepped past ornately set furniture and broken items of little worth. Nothing caught his attention.

Antigrin tugged at his skull-ridden bandana with his left hand, muzzle wrinkling at the putrid smell of decay that flooded into his nostrils. Decidedly, the shifted male trudged up the marble steps and unto the second floor; the musty scent fading into that of wet cloth. He supposed that there were a few leaks up here, seeing as how it had rained a few hours before him actually arriving to this particular building. He passed many doors, especially those which smelt the wettest; and only opened doors to which looked interesting or smelled of similar attributes.

One particular door led him into a large room with a long, wooden, wilting table in the middle, surrounded by countless chairs and decorated with pottery, silverware, cups, goblets and glasses, as well as thousands of scattered sheets of paper, which had been haphazardly strewn by intruding breezes. He wandered about the room, picking up random papers, most of which had been water damaged and were unreadable. He traced his claws along the backs of chairs and finally sat in one as he sought to closely examine a dusty teacup with his nose; which only resulted in an echoing sneeze.

table by akumu
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#2
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_____Institutions of higher learning were often places that contained a wealth of information that otherwise would not be found open to the common public. Corona didn't visit them often, but when it came to unravelling mystery after mystery, she knew just where it would be that she would possibly find whatever it was that she was looking for. It also served as a perfect getaway as well—she wasn't looking forward to making the journey back to Inferni—from reality. The wolf who had more or less attacked her in the Dampwoods hadn't followed her into the city and the hours which had followed it afterwards had given her the time to clean the bites and scrapes. She'd bandaged her arm and inspected the cut on her face but other than that, Corona had come out better than she thought.


_____And now she had resigned herself to sitting on the damp floor of a water stained library, deciphering books that had seen better days. If their yellowed pages weren't one thing, the fact that the heat and humidity had gotten to them had warped their spines and made the pages damp themselves. But lucky for her, not all of the pages were ruined just like not all of the campus had a bad roof. However, it was a distant sneeze that snapped her out of her focus on the text; she couldn't help but sit up completely straight and bristle out of reaction. Any thoughts about reading left her as she closed the book and rose hastily to her feet, moving quietly through the maze of bookshelves and such to find the way she had come in. To look and see just who was on the other side of the wall, to find out if she had been followed.


_____However, through the cracked opening of the door, the figure that she spied out wasn't that of her random attacker, but someone completely different. A hybrid, she surmised, from his build and appearance alone. It was unique in the sense that hers was and for that reason alone, Corona couldn't help but venture out to his back, moving as quiet as the old floors and rugs would muffle her steps. “I'm afraid the tea's gone dry,” she spoke aloud, regarding him with a level of caution and curiosity. Where did his loyalities lie, if he had any? She had never seen the likes of him before, though that went for most every one in the region. At least he wasn't from Dahlia de Mai and she couldn't pick up anything that placed him in Esper Hollow, either.

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