Vel Anir was unsurprisingly quiet on a day like today. A summer storm had swept its way in across the coast with high winds and heavy rain that lashed against the street. Anyone unfortunate enough to be out in it was wrapped up in thick leather gear in an attempt to keep themselves at least relatively dry. Zana glanced from the crumpled piece of paper in her hand up at the sign that hung above her. She had to squint a little bit against the heavy rain but there was no mistaking it was one and the same: a quill and a split bottle of ink. This was the shop she had seen in her vision. With a sigh she curled her fist around the piece of parchment once more and then shoved it into her pocket before heading inside.
The bell jingled pleasantly as she stepped inside and pulled the door shut with a little bit of effort against the raging storm outside. The shop keep looked up at her, obviously expecting to see some poor drenched rat and he was looking forward to giving her a dark look that said she was not to touch anything. Instead he flinched. Only a Dreadlord would be bone dry like Zana was now and so he nodded in respect and went back to his work. Zana pushed the hood back from her face and glanced around, rubbing her cold hands together to get some warmth back into them. She was very glad she had begun to perfect the energy shields the stolen soul had afforded her in time for the storm season: she hated getting soaked through as soon as she stepped outside.
Zana was dressed in her usual off duty clothing; waist high white riding breeches that hugged her curves, a white shirt, and her deep navy blue and silver leather military trench coat. She pushed the hood back from her face and then stepped into the aisles of the bookshop. It was pleasantly warm inside because of the roaring fire and small seating area where already a few patrons were curled up with their latest purchases. The book she had seen had been a red volume and it had been buried. That's all she knew. That and that it was vital to learning how to progress her magics.
The bell jingled pleasantly as she stepped inside and pulled the door shut with a little bit of effort against the raging storm outside. The shop keep looked up at her, obviously expecting to see some poor drenched rat and he was looking forward to giving her a dark look that said she was not to touch anything. Instead he flinched. Only a Dreadlord would be bone dry like Zana was now and so he nodded in respect and went back to his work. Zana pushed the hood back from her face and glanced around, rubbing her cold hands together to get some warmth back into them. She was very glad she had begun to perfect the energy shields the stolen soul had afforded her in time for the storm season: she hated getting soaked through as soon as she stepped outside.
Zana was dressed in her usual off duty clothing; waist high white riding breeches that hugged her curves, a white shirt, and her deep navy blue and silver leather military trench coat. She pushed the hood back from her face and then stepped into the aisles of the bookshop. It was pleasantly warm inside because of the roaring fire and small seating area where already a few patrons were curled up with their latest purchases. The book she had seen had been a red volume and it had been buried. That's all she knew. That and that it was vital to learning how to progress her magics.