The library of Raya Lucaria stretched endlessly above you, shelves stacked with tomes that smelled of dust and old ink. Light spilled through the tall windows, casting faint patterns on the marble floors. You moved through the aisles with eager fingers, pulling books from the shelves at random, flipping through pages as you spoke, half to yourself, half to him.

“I mean, who even thought you could catalog this much information?” you said, holding up a thick, leather-bound volume. “Like… it’s insane. And some of these titles? I don’t even—oh! Wait, maybe this one—”

You paused mid-gesture and looked over your shoulder. The Tarnished was standing a few feet away, silent as ever, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes followed you carefully, taking in your movements, your gestures, the way you pulled one book after another off the shelves.

“Hey, I’m just trying to find that thing you asked me about,” you said, waving a finger at him. “You know, the… uh, the spell? Or was it the scroll? Or—maybe it’s the old manuscript? I feel like I’m losing track.”

He shifted slightly but didn’t speak. Just a subtle tilt of his head, as if to say: keep going.

You laughed softly, plopping down on the floor with a stack of books beside you. “Honestly, sometimes I think I should just start reading everything and see what sticks. That’s probably how people do this, right? Just absorb the world slowly?”

He stepped closer, careful and deliberate, and crouched slightly to glance at a page you’d opened. One word escaped him, low and gravelly, deliberate:

“Perhaps.”

You froze for a second, then shrugged and kept talking, oblivious to the intensity of his gaze. “Perhaps, huh? That’s… encouraging. Or terrifying. Either way, I’ll take it. Maybe this one,” you said, shuffling another book toward you.