Lost In Literature, Loss Lingering PV Edith Alarie

It had not been long since the young Librarian had found herself stepping into the castle, heels clicking against the stone walkway that nearly mirrored the cold walls. Familiarity yet to be set, but a faint sour memory of France was quickly smothered by the laughter of students and their echoing mischievous steps.

The white rose was in the past; France was in the past.

He was in the past.

Edith's amber eyes followed the ink in the book she held, her small figure sunk in a dark oak chair at the Librarian's desk, her desk. The flicker of a wick lit in neon orange appeared to dance, like lovers enjoying an evening out, its warmth spread through her while she smiled softly. Unaware that she may have appeared like a small, murky creature mumbling to some of the guests as she read with her nose stuck in her book, her eyes halted on the change of ink to a word that pulled the vein in her heart.

Love.

A small voice whispered from a corner of her mind, the sudden smell of iron caused her to blink, and the flash of a memory flooded her mind. Thud. Her pink-pedicured hands closed the book she was reading before rubbing her temple while she let out a small, trembled sigh, Merlin... Samuel's voice lingered with the ghost of the warmth that stained her dress and hand, red.

Stinging in reminder of what she left behind with the shattered glass and rose petals stained with drops of crimson.

If only it was a simple answer. A simple pathway that led her toward the stars that shone like a million suns, instead of the water that reflected them like a beautiful lie that sank her further into an inkwell, lost in literature.

Enternally dreaming of a fate written in messy, slow-drying ink.

Taking a deep breath, Edith stood up, and the oak chair creaked while it mildly dragged along the floor. "Perhaps I am only meant to write it..." A small smile appeared, like those tormented poets. A willow thought, but a lovely gift in its own twisted way. A faint chuckle left her lips as she grabbed a stack of books that the guests would leave at her desk with smiles and wonder in their eyes. Well... maybe not tormented... She still dreamt with hope, after all.

Edith barely took a step forward before looking down with a hum. "It still feels weird..." remembering how her leg had been snapped with ease. That evening, engraved into her, the feeling she would still wake up to in the dark with a jump and wide eyes, muttering. A chill ran down her spine; the scraping sound emitted by the book she put in its rightful place evoked the memory of her body being dragged by the grotesque plant, before the sound of wood being hit dragged her out of thought; a small voice followed soon after.

It was not the same familiar voice that echoed that evening, no.

Her head turned to find the source, Edith's gaze landing on a child with brown hair. Oh goodness, her gaze softened further as she watched the boy soothe his pain before making her way over to him. She would place down the stack of books on a nearby surface, promising to return to them once she knew the child was well. "Excuse me... are you alright, sweetie? Would you like to go to the hospital wing?" Looking around, she quickly grabbed a chair and removed a misplaced robe by a previous guest, "Here, take a seat, we wouldn't want you to tumble..."

Edith would smile warmly at him, clearly concerned for the boy who had walked into what she assumed was a bookcase by the wooden sound she had heard. "A book did not fall on you, did it?" Her tone was comforting, careful not to cause a scene that could attract more attention than necessary while she crouched to meet his level. "This labyrinth can be quite daunting, huh?" She would reach into her pocket and take out two cherry-flavored sweets, indicating to him to be quiet as she handed him one. "I will make an exception to the rule about food in the Library just this once... what's your name, little one?"

Why was it that the world always seemed so dead set against his request for peace? The boy, quick to embarrassment felt his cheeks instantly flush with that unflattering pink of youth. Not only had he been seen but by the new librarian no less, a fact he only knew because of her announcement at the start of year. Eyes immediately seeking protection towards the ground he allowed her to bumble him about until he was sat in the chair she had fetched, mumbling sentiments as they walked, "it's really ok, I do it all the time, I don't want to be a bother." Sentiments of the harsh edges of his frame of mind.

Seemingly the extremely elegant woman cared not for his ridiculous notions as she continued to check him over, jesting that the library was to blame for his clumsiness. It was a sweet kind of statement, meant to tackle those sharp edges and he couldn't help but puff out a small laugh. Matthew couldn't imagine anywhere less daunting than these shelves. Literature of all kinds graced each and every book transporting the reader to worlds so beyond the scope of imagination he wondered if some of the writers he knew to be muggle really hailed from the magical world.

Still adamant to avoid eye contact he barely lifted his gaze with the delicious enticement of sweets. Cherry had always been his favourite, then grape and strawberry so it was a fool's errand to attempt to resist. Plus the worst had already come, his shame plastered across his face like a scarlet letter. He might as well enjoy the treat that his cheeks so resembled. Unwrapping it slowly Matt revelled in alleviation of the break of silence before timidly speaking, "Matthew, Matthew Campbell Miss. I didn't mean to disturb you, or the library. If it is a labyrinth I suppose I must be the minotaur for it feels like home to me, suppose that makes that shelf Jason."

Campbell was a quiet soul for the most part but he lit up around friends and what deeper friendship did he have than with literature. Stories were the only things that never left his side, that never offered promises they couldn't maintain, and most importantly, the one thing he couldn't hurt. Still as he continued her metaphor his body did untighten from the compact shroud of his humiliation. Only by a little, but enough to notice. The world felt simpler when told in stories, in the knowing that an ending existed regardless of what was written. There was a finality to it all that life didn't follow.

Or at least his didn't. Campbell's story was clearly a rushed tale, one of those well intentioned plots that lost itself in the addition of an unreliable narrator and an obsession with tragedy. It was sad to picture his life that way, but still it felt true. At least true to him. With that in mind he finally lifted his head, a glint of sadness trailing in his glistening eyes. Feigning a smile to mask his hurt he collected himself and asked, "Sorry Miss, I don't think we've formally met and I regret to say I have forgotten your name." Then searching the room for any other onlookers he found herself transfixed upon the pile of books she had shelved, ""I hope I didn't disturb your reading."

Interacting with @Edith Alarie

She smiled softly as she watched the child glance over to the sweet in her hand. Edith was familiar with the shyness and embarrassment. Shame came in shades of red, some quite visible under the spotlight, as whispers carried the sight of hair growing into a shade of bright red during a spell presentation.

Children always worried about things that were not always in their control.

A faint chuckle would leave her as she said gently, respecting his avoidance to look at her, "Oh there is nothing to be sorry about Mr. Campbell..." She would hum softly in thought, tilting her head as she found his comparison to Asterion amusing, deciding to twist his comparison just enough to try and ease the edges "The minotaur was said to be the ultimate guardian of the labyrinth... I suppose that would make you the mini guardian of this castle's knowledge, no?" Smiling softly, she would gently eat her piece of candy, "pages for flesh, words for blood... sweets of jewels from the skies above like raindrops against flower petals."

A blissful stillness despite the curse of solitude.

Perhaps her words had eased his pain a bit, tilting her head slightly when he finally looked up, the library's stars flickering across his tear-glossed eyes. "I am Edith Alarie. But I am alright with just Edith, I am no professor for such formalities." She would smile warmly, "Disturb? No, it is alright. I spend too much time reading here anyways..." Looking at him, she would explain as if he might not have already known, "Perks of the school librarian... was there a book you were looking for earlier?"

As if reminding him of his earlier comment, she would joke before straightening back up, "I may not be Daedalus, but I have spent enough time to know where every book is."

And Edith would never lead a soul astray...