
7th of Saun, 716 Arc
The library was quiet, mostly avoided because of the war, but a certain redhead found her way pushing through the large doors, letting sunlight into the dark and quiet building. No one turned at her entrance or seemed to care that she had arrived. A scribe looked up from something she was transcribing, and losing interest rather quickly returned to her work. Hera needed only to research various terrain and weather patterns for a navigation job she was eyeing, but the lack of attention was uninspiring. Weren't they interested in someone coming to visit the stacks?
She gave it another moment, but the only sound she heard was hushed voices and someone coughing. The vain woman tried not to pout and her eyes roamed the room in search of a librarian. Behind a large oak desk, one was turned, searching for something as a figure waited patiently leaning on the counter with his elbows. A number of books were in front of him and a very familiar surge of interest shocked Hera, who instantly recognized who it was.
Thin and bit older in his thirties, a man stood with spectacles perched on his straight nose. He seemed enraptured in what the librarian was saying, no doubt checking out books for his lesson plans. A professor, one Hera had purused as a young girl, now within arm's reach. It had been years since she had seen him, but girlish excitement still stirred within her and a desperate need for him to notice her assaulted her.
She began to assess the situation. He still chatted while the librarian searched for something - a pen or check out records. Absentmindedly tugging down the collar of her dress to expose more of her cleavage, Hera shook out her hair to give it fuller body and began to approach, slowly.
The Biqaj pretended not to notice him, but as she grew closer in promixity, he was all she was aware of. Entering from left stage, she siddled up beside him just as the librarian was turning around, "Excuse me," Hera purred, waving towards the older woman. From the corner of her eyes she could see the man's head cocking towards the voice, and her dainty hand reached out to retrieve a pen from a cup on the counter, "May I borrow this? For notes?"
"Of course, dear. Just bring it back," the librarian replied.
When Hera's hand touched the pen, she pulled, knowing quite well what she was doing. The cup tilted and the other writing utensils scattered to the ground, and a small gasp escaped her lips and she began to bend over beside the object of her interest, taking her time in gathering the things.
The man beside her lowered to the ground, his own hands scrambling to help. Hera saw the pen he was reaching for and cut him off with her own and his fingers touched hers, "Oh, I'm sorry," she lied, a thrill of excitement leaping in her stomach. The stranger laughed, a deep and charming sound that made her melt.
"Syhera Ki'hadi?" his fingers lingered.
"Huh?" she looked up to meet his eyes, and in response she attempted her most charming smile, "Professor Swayne?"
Dressed in a white button up and slacks, he looked absolutely delicious. His hair was trim and his eyes a warm hazel. She remembered them like it was just yesterday she was sitting in his class, admiring the way he walked, the way he read literature aloud. She had called him Professor Swoon, then, amongst her friends. Hera realized she was staring and she pulled her hand away, lowering her eyes and spotting the metal rim spectacles that hung from the collar of his shirt.
She barely processed what he said next, a very real desire igniting within her. It had been so long since a man had touched her. Swayne raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.
"What?" she blinked, images of his body fluttering in her mind and felt herself blushing, "I didn't hear you."
He began to stand, patiently repeating himself, "I said you can call me Nicholas. You're not my pupil anymore."
Syhera leaned in, forgetting the pens in her hand. This man was magnetic, "Okay, Nicholas." Her voice took a breathy undertone, far more appropriate for the bedroom than a casual encounter required, but Hera wanted him. And she wanted him to want her. And for a split second, she thought it worked, his eyes flashing something a bit dangerous, as if he too recalled their heated kisses, so many years ago.
The library was quiet, mostly avoided because of the war, but a certain redhead found her way pushing through the large doors, letting sunlight into the dark and quiet building. No one turned at her entrance or seemed to care that she had arrived. A scribe looked up from something she was transcribing, and losing interest rather quickly returned to her work. Hera needed only to research various terrain and weather patterns for a navigation job she was eyeing, but the lack of attention was uninspiring. Weren't they interested in someone coming to visit the stacks?
She gave it another moment, but the only sound she heard was hushed voices and someone coughing. The vain woman tried not to pout and her eyes roamed the room in search of a librarian. Behind a large oak desk, one was turned, searching for something as a figure waited patiently leaning on the counter with his elbows. A number of books were in front of him and a very familiar surge of interest shocked Hera, who instantly recognized who it was.
Thin and bit older in his thirties, a man stood with spectacles perched on his straight nose. He seemed enraptured in what the librarian was saying, no doubt checking out books for his lesson plans. A professor, one Hera had purused as a young girl, now within arm's reach. It had been years since she had seen him, but girlish excitement still stirred within her and a desperate need for him to notice her assaulted her.
She began to assess the situation. He still chatted while the librarian searched for something - a pen or check out records. Absentmindedly tugging down the collar of her dress to expose more of her cleavage, Hera shook out her hair to give it fuller body and began to approach, slowly.
The Biqaj pretended not to notice him, but as she grew closer in promixity, he was all she was aware of. Entering from left stage, she siddled up beside him just as the librarian was turning around, "Excuse me," Hera purred, waving towards the older woman. From the corner of her eyes she could see the man's head cocking towards the voice, and her dainty hand reached out to retrieve a pen from a cup on the counter, "May I borrow this? For notes?"
"Of course, dear. Just bring it back," the librarian replied.
When Hera's hand touched the pen, she pulled, knowing quite well what she was doing. The cup tilted and the other writing utensils scattered to the ground, and a small gasp escaped her lips and she began to bend over beside the object of her interest, taking her time in gathering the things.
The man beside her lowered to the ground, his own hands scrambling to help. Hera saw the pen he was reaching for and cut him off with her own and his fingers touched hers, "Oh, I'm sorry," she lied, a thrill of excitement leaping in her stomach. The stranger laughed, a deep and charming sound that made her melt.
"Syhera Ki'hadi?" his fingers lingered.
"Huh?" she looked up to meet his eyes, and in response she attempted her most charming smile, "Professor Swayne?"
Dressed in a white button up and slacks, he looked absolutely delicious. His hair was trim and his eyes a warm hazel. She remembered them like it was just yesterday she was sitting in his class, admiring the way he walked, the way he read literature aloud. She had called him Professor Swoon, then, amongst her friends. Hera realized she was staring and she pulled her hand away, lowering her eyes and spotting the metal rim spectacles that hung from the collar of his shirt.
She barely processed what he said next, a very real desire igniting within her. It had been so long since a man had touched her. Swayne raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.
"What?" she blinked, images of his body fluttering in her mind and felt herself blushing, "I didn't hear you."
He began to stand, patiently repeating himself, "I said you can call me Nicholas. You're not my pupil anymore."
Syhera leaned in, forgetting the pens in her hand. This man was magnetic, "Okay, Nicholas." Her voice took a breathy undertone, far more appropriate for the bedroom than a casual encounter required, but Hera wanted him. And she wanted him to want her. And for a split second, she thought it worked, his eyes flashing something a bit dangerous, as if he too recalled their heated kisses, so many years ago.