Post by A Long Display Name Here on Jun 13, 2012 1:25:09 GMT -6
This was wrong. Wasn't it? Ren glanced around the street, feeling grossly conspicuous in her scarlet and gold robes. Her prematurely grey hair was in a sloppy braid as usual, pen tucked behind her ear, fingers on her left hand stained with ink. No one was staring, at the very least, but that did little to relieve the anxious knots in her stomach.
She was out on another excursion to Republic City, slipping away from Air Temple Island without a word. Her heart hammered in her chest like it did when she was a child sneaking a snack before dinner. Not that there were rules, exactly, about whether or not she could leave the Island. The pale woman knit her brows together. She couldn't remember ever being told she couldn't leave; she had just assumed, and always asked before doing so. It wasn't as if she was sneaking away, either, as the Island was... well, an island. There were regularly scheduled boat trips between the Island and the City, and she always left on the scheduled trips, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of wrongdoing even though no one had said anything.
Ren wandered the streets at a leisurely pace, stopping every so often to admire a store front, or smell some street food (there were so many stalls!); she stayed well out of the road, distrustful of Satomobile drivers and their often erratic ways. Eventually, a humble wooden sign caught her eye:
Her eyes lit up and she entered the store, her heart soaring the way only books made it. It was a small shop, but there were books lining the walls to the ceiling, wrapping all the way around the store, on shelves, on piles on the floor, in wooden crates and metal bins. She bent down, stood up, bent down, keen on examining all the titles, taking in the wonderful scent of ageing paper. Her fingers ran tenderly along the book spines as she read the titles on the shelved books, ignoring that small voice in her head alerting her to the fact she was wandering into the non-sale priced literature.
Oblivious to the signs telling her what genre of the store she was in, Ren picked up a book with an unassuming cover. Omoi Tenoh. She read the author's name softly to herself before thumbing the pages open to a random section.
And nearly died. Her face flushing with heat, she shoved the book back on the shelf. Apparently, The Fire Lord's Spear was not a historical document on the Fire Lord's weaponry. She could hear the proprietor of the bookstore chortling to himself and felt her ears burn. But curiosity got the better of her. Trying her best to ignore the shopkeep's now open laughter, Ren attempted to maintain what dignity she had left as she opened Tenoh's novel from the beginning.
Soon, she was completely oblivious to her surroundings, completely engrossed in the (rather unlikely) novel. Anyone looking at her would've seen an extremely flushed face and wide eyes, almost as if in disbelief. Ren, for her part, was so wrapped up in Tenoh's words she wouldn't have noticed anything unless it tapped her on the shoulder and said 'Hello'.
She was out on another excursion to Republic City, slipping away from Air Temple Island without a word. Her heart hammered in her chest like it did when she was a child sneaking a snack before dinner. Not that there were rules, exactly, about whether or not she could leave the Island. The pale woman knit her brows together. She couldn't remember ever being told she couldn't leave; she had just assumed, and always asked before doing so. It wasn't as if she was sneaking away, either, as the Island was... well, an island. There were regularly scheduled boat trips between the Island and the City, and she always left on the scheduled trips, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of wrongdoing even though no one had said anything.
Ren wandered the streets at a leisurely pace, stopping every so often to admire a store front, or smell some street food (there were so many stalls!); she stayed well out of the road, distrustful of Satomobile drivers and their often erratic ways. Eventually, a humble wooden sign caught her eye:
USED BOOK SALE
Used paperback books: 2 for 1 Yuan
Used paperback books: 2 for 1 Yuan
Her eyes lit up and she entered the store, her heart soaring the way only books made it. It was a small shop, but there were books lining the walls to the ceiling, wrapping all the way around the store, on shelves, on piles on the floor, in wooden crates and metal bins. She bent down, stood up, bent down, keen on examining all the titles, taking in the wonderful scent of ageing paper. Her fingers ran tenderly along the book spines as she read the titles on the shelved books, ignoring that small voice in her head alerting her to the fact she was wandering into the non-sale priced literature.
Oblivious to the signs telling her what genre of the store she was in, Ren picked up a book with an unassuming cover. Omoi Tenoh. She read the author's name softly to herself before thumbing the pages open to a random section.
And nearly died. Her face flushing with heat, she shoved the book back on the shelf. Apparently, The Fire Lord's Spear was not a historical document on the Fire Lord's weaponry. She could hear the proprietor of the bookstore chortling to himself and felt her ears burn. But curiosity got the better of her. Trying her best to ignore the shopkeep's now open laughter, Ren attempted to maintain what dignity she had left as she opened Tenoh's novel from the beginning.
Soon, she was completely oblivious to her surroundings, completely engrossed in the (rather unlikely) novel. Anyone looking at her would've seen an extremely flushed face and wide eyes, almost as if in disbelief. Ren, for her part, was so wrapped up in Tenoh's words she wouldn't have noticed anything unless it tapped her on the shoulder and said 'Hello'.