- Messages
- 721
- OOC First Name
- Raze
- Wand
- Straight 13 Inch Flexible Pine Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 7/2019
Raziel Kim, a young boy of a mere age of eleven, stepped into the library and peeked around. Truthfully, there was almost no one there. Gracefully he loped through the tall double doors, hearing them click shut behind him. He shimmed a little in a half-dance of excitement and stepped quickly, his eyes skimming over titles and authors. Literature truly is an amazing invention. Though, technically it's not an invention. It's been there for a rather long time, from the beginning. So, do he honestly have the right to call it an invention? Or, perhaps should he call it a miracle? He scoped the shelves of the library, delving into the essence of the pure aura around him. Places like these are so tranquil...so, as he have said, amazing. He scarcely touched the bindings edge with his fingertips as he approached a rather tall shelf structure. He could not bring myself to disturb the presence about it, a presence that has rested for as long as it had been put on that shelf.
He took the books that interest him the most, and flamboyantly search a spot for himself. But instead of sitting on a chair like the other occupants did, he found himself a comfortable place on in the corner, just right below the window ledge where the sun shines through. Stacks and stacks of books pile around him, all on different subjects by different authors from different times and different places. He loved it. Being around the one's that control his life, his being. He loves being around these small bound leather books, which hold an indescribable amount of information. Honestly, it excites him. Whenever he pick up something new, he's indulging himself in a new world that he never would have thought of. He is reliving the past, present, and future. He allow himself to be placed in another person's shoes. Information sits in these pages that he couldn't even come to imagine. While others are outside, ignorant to the world that sits within these walls, he live in the tongue of old and new. He is himself, free and untamed, as he skip word from word, his eyes darting to each new sentence, willing to read from front to back. He never put down a book, good or bad, for it is his duty to finish what he once started. Never will he put down a book without completing it, no matter how bad it may be. He paused for a second, one hand digging into his pocket to take out some sweets that he had sneaked out earlier. He didn't particularly paid any attention to the world around him. He was different. And not just because of the way he looked or acted.He wasn't trying to be different, no. He didn't act in that desperate teenage way where they flaunt their faults for sympathy and attention. No, he simply stewed in his dissimilarity, simply sitting with his books in his corner, whittling away at time. He didn't want to be noticed. He simply wanted to exist inside his novels.
He took the books that interest him the most, and flamboyantly search a spot for himself. But instead of sitting on a chair like the other occupants did, he found himself a comfortable place on in the corner, just right below the window ledge where the sun shines through. Stacks and stacks of books pile around him, all on different subjects by different authors from different times and different places. He loved it. Being around the one's that control his life, his being. He loves being around these small bound leather books, which hold an indescribable amount of information. Honestly, it excites him. Whenever he pick up something new, he's indulging himself in a new world that he never would have thought of. He is reliving the past, present, and future. He allow himself to be placed in another person's shoes. Information sits in these pages that he couldn't even come to imagine. While others are outside, ignorant to the world that sits within these walls, he live in the tongue of old and new. He is himself, free and untamed, as he skip word from word, his eyes darting to each new sentence, willing to read from front to back. He never put down a book, good or bad, for it is his duty to finish what he once started. Never will he put down a book without completing it, no matter how bad it may be. He paused for a second, one hand digging into his pocket to take out some sweets that he had sneaked out earlier. He didn't particularly paid any attention to the world around him. He was different. And not just because of the way he looked or acted.He wasn't trying to be different, no. He didn't act in that desperate teenage way where they flaunt their faults for sympathy and attention. No, he simply stewed in his dissimilarity, simply sitting with his books in his corner, whittling away at time. He didn't want to be noticed. He simply wanted to exist inside his novels.