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Dust floated through the air, slowly. Almost like a wisp sometimes, when you moved with care. Not many people bothered to come to this part of the library. Or this library in general, a few levels farther down than the main one off the belfry. But, in her opinion, this wing had a better history section, and a better selection of volumes on fade metaphysics.
And, it was quieter. She rarely saw anyone down here. It had been two weeks since she had seen anyone here, besides the undead librarians.
She liked it though. The quiet was so peaceful. And it never really seemed to feel empty. She liked to say that it was the Necropolis' favorite library too, and it liked to visit that spot to read its favorite books too.
The Necropolis had a fondness for romance novels, if you were curious. Her favorite had a pirate and a princess in it; and the princess ran away with the pirate in the end. It was actually quite a good story
She had been wandering through the section on spellcasting physiology for a while, but none of the titles were jumping out at her. Really, she should finish the historical time she had upstairs. Except she had been reading it for days, and while it had been very helpful in updating her map of some lower halls, if she read anymore of it her eyes would bleed out.
A book about anything else would be preferable. But this section wasn't going to be much better. She really should have just started in romance. It would have saved her so much….
Kione had made the first step out past the shelf and into the isle and collided with something hard. Whatever it was entangled her, and the person…maker it was a person, stumbled and lost their balance on the uneven stone floor and fell backwards, pulling her with him.
Rough stone cut into her palms, but she managed to catch herself enough not to completely crush the person below her. The impact still drew an unfortunate "oof" from her, knocking the breath from her lungs.
It took her a few seconds to process exactly what had happened. And to fully become aware that she was sprawled nearly on top of someone, face buried in their chest. While straddling what felt like a strong, muscular leg. And that there was a firm arm wrapped protectively around her back.
Her head shot up, apology already spilling from her lips when she saw who she had crashed into.
Andraste's tits, it was him.
The tall, handsome man she had seen around the Necropolis. increasingly often, the last few months. She had no idea who he was, and never could come up with a good enough reason to approach him. But he was so pretty, especially up close, staring right back at her with beautiful brown eyes, from underneath her.
"Oh, Maker," she panicked, lifting herself off of him and sitting up, "I am so sorry," Her hands traced down his shoulder and arms, hands already glowing green. "Are you hurt? Please, tell me if you are, the least I can do is heal any injury I caused.
The man followed her up slowly, hand tightening against her back.
He was still holding her protectively against him, grip strong enough to ground her. His chest brushed back against hers, and of course, he had beautiful dark hair.
Oh, and he was even prettier when he smiled at her, and his eyes crinkled like that.
"I am alright, my dear. Don't fret." His gaze was intense, focused. "But I must apologize. I was not watching my path very clearly. Please, tell me if you are hurt?"
"No," she smiled up at him, hands slowly drifting to a stop on his forearms, "I'm okay."
She was perfectly fine, sitting in this handsome man's lap, in the library.
"Oh!" she jumped up fully and back to her feet. "I am so sorry."
Was she crazy? Or did it seem like he was a little reluctant to let her go?
She reached a hand down to help him up. "Again," she gave a weak laugh.
The man's hands were large, but his grip strong as he accepter her hand and rose. He stretched to his full height, about a full head taller than her.
And he didn't let go of her hand.
"I am relieved to hear that," he was still smiling at her, "and unfortunate collision aside, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Edmond Forsythia."
And then Edmond Forsythia bowed, and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles. His eyes never left hers, and they crinkled at the edges when he smiled at the way her face flushed hotly.
"Kione Ingellvar," she managed to get out, voice much more suave than she felt, especially with her swooping stomach. "It's lovely to meet you."