Brunnhold Library
Well, almost everyone.
Niamh wasn’t a huge lover of the sunshine and neither was her skin, especially on this cloudless day with its warm breezes. She’d been out in it when she went to get lunch so she knew what it was like and hadn’t liked it, even though she was probably alone in that sentiment. The eldest Madden had seen students lounging on the grass out of their Brunnhold greens and in lighter, more fashionable clothing as they chattered in groups; she’d even seen a picnic or two and at least one game of croquet. Unlike her peers, she’d been sure to scuttle back to the safety of the library once she’d eaten.
Not that the library was free of the season of course, sunbeams entering through the building’s windows and casting a radiant circle where the ceiling allowed light to shine down on the comfortable, overstuffed chairs of the more relaxed reading area. At this time of day with the sun practically overhead, not yet having properly begun its downward arc since reaching its meridian, the reading area was like the spot beneath a magnifying glass where light rays focused. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but it really was warm and was far from inviting to the final year student. Instead, she’d opted for a dingier space where she could focus on her studies without having to deal with the pesky reflections of light bouncing off the the varnished surface of the study tables dotted throughout the many stacks. There was more than enough light to work by and illuminate the dust motes that drifted lazily through the air.
As far as the young woman could tell, she basically had the place to herself aside from the odd passive that had been granted access to clean and the unfortunate woman who’d been drafted in to sit at the main desk to maintain services while the typical rota of student volunteers—often postgraduates—was out of kilter because of the holidays. When Niamh had returned to the place after her lunch, the woman had fallen asleep at her post, gentle snores emanating from her as she sat with her head propped up on her hand. It was quiet and peaceful and she could work with her belongings spread out across her table without having to worry about others coming along to share it with her.
The Living Conversationalist had various anatomy, physiology, medical and arcane books arrayed around her. Some sat in piles, others were propped open and she shifted between them, some sort of organisation to the tomes that a casual observer most likely wouldn’t identify. She also had a multitude of papers before her, many bearing notes in her elegant hand as she scribbled away. Others might be enjoying the weather but Niamh Madden was studying hard, well aware that her final term at Brunnhold was approaching and that she had plenty of irons in the fire to keep her busy.
She sat making notes and occasionally murmuring to herself, an awareness of strong and oft repetitive noises dawning on her slowly. It must have been a number of minutes since her return to the building when it grated on her senses, the young woman doing her best to ignore it but having to pause and give it her attention after she found her gaze skimming the same sentences repeatedly without gleaning any meaning from the printed letters.
The redhead stopped what she was doing, frowning as she forced herself to sit motionless and listen. Yes, there was a rhythmic thumping sound coming from somewhere as if someone was banging against something repeatedly. Not thumping alone though but an occasional scratch and scrape that irked the senses. While she couldn’t identify the thumps, the other sounds made her think of the noise the chair legs made as they were moved over the hardwood floors, that particular squeal of something dragged against the varnished surface.
Niamh frowned, turning her head slowly one way and then another in an effort to identify the direction. Whoever was doing it probably thought that they had the run of the place and didn’t expect to disturb anyone. Then again, regardless of what they thought, she couldn’t understand what they were doing to make such a noise; whoever they were, they certainly weren’t studying.
She stood — wincing slightly as her own seat’s legs squealed across the floor as she pushed away from the desk — and went in search of the source of the disturbance. She moved between various shelves, trying to determine if she was growing nearer or moving away from whatever strange noises she was hearing, brow creased as she zeroed in on it. Her own steps were soft, the skirt of her uniform dress swishing lightly, especially when the fabric rubbed against her stockings.
As she drew nearer, what she heard grew no more identifiable, although the mutter of a voice could now be added to the catalogue of sounds that someone was making without thought for anybody else in the vicinity. It sounded as if whoever was behind this was actually two people conversing quietly — the only thing they were doing quietly or an individual talking to themselves.
After a couple of minutes of searching, the galdor rounded a shelf and came upon the culprit, field pulsing faintly with irritation as her arms crossed over her chest, an unconscious defensive gesture. As it turned out it was one person—another student— and he had a sly look about him. It was an awful thing to think of someone that you happened across but that was her first impression. He was scruffy and dark-haired with a slightly pinched look that made her think of a rodent but a wily one. Strangely enough, she also managed to see something of her gated brother within him, paradoxical given that Fionn frequently came across as innocent seeming and this boy did not — and of course, they didn’t look alike.
Niamh halted not long after rounding the shelf, lips pursed disapprovingly as she considered him.
"Excuse me!" she called out, wincing minutely at how unexpectedly loud her voice sounded and so full of recrimination.
"What on Vita do you think you’re doing?" the Madden girl asked haughtily. "I was studying and I could hear these- these- these noises! And I couldn’t work out- If you’re going to be in here, could you try to be considerate, please? If you want to get on with some sort of- of tomfoolery then perhaps you should consider leaving!"