[ You find yourself in a library, deep within a sea of shelves - a glance from side to side barely affords you a passing estimate of its size but you know inherently, somehow, that what you can see is only a fraction of what the building has to offer. The air around you is thick with each scent that entails: dust and leather and ancient, delicate paper, printed and illuminated with brittle, crumbling ink.
On your body is a uniform of some sort, a dark, austere three-piece affair, a blazer and vest over matching bottoms - either a pair of trousers or a calf-length skirt - pressed white shirt tied neatly with a silken bow.
But whichever it is that you wear, Aradia stands opposite you in clothes that appear very much the same; there is a mischievous edge to her smile, an excited glint in her eye, with the color in her face a deep enough red to almost put them to shame. The wood of the shelves creaks softly beneath her weight as she leans in against you to speak, tone hushed as befits the locale but with naked, undisguised amusement: ]
You should make sure that you stay quiet, okay...?
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On your body is a uniform of some sort, a dark, austere three-piece affair, a blazer and vest over matching bottoms - either a pair of trousers or a calf-length skirt - pressed white shirt tied neatly with a silken bow.
But whichever it is that you wear, Aradia stands opposite you in clothes that appear very much the same; there is a mischievous edge to her smile, an excited glint in her eye, with the color in her face a deep enough red to almost put them to shame. The wood of the shelves creaks softly beneath her weight as she leans in against you to speak, tone hushed as befits the locale but with naked, undisguised amusement: ]
You should make sure that you stay quiet, okay...?