the cabinet of dr. quinn [s]
posted Feb 22, 2020 0:04:54 GMT
Gavin Merlino likes this
Royalty is wasted on those who don't achieve definition in conflict and build their own legacy.
|The Friar’s Attic was certainly one of the more peculiar bookstores Remiel had visited. It resided in one of Rustboro’s oldest districts, a small two-story brick building bordered by a park and an embassy building. The interior of the bookstore was furnished with antique furniture, seemingly priceless artifacts set upon wooden pedestals, and intricate rugs hanging against the walls. Were it not for the rows upon rows of books filed away within their mahogany bookshelves— many of them new, but most alarmingly old— one could be forgiven for thinking they had walked into a museum. Additionally, Remiel wasn’t sure the building even had an attic to begin with.|
But it did, surprisingly, have a café on its first floor.
It was here where the sole proprietor, a man in his 70’s with thin golden glasses, spent his days reading books and greeting the few customers that visited his family-owned bookstore day-by-day. After ordering a London Fog tea latte and sparing some idle chit-chat with the man, Remiel walked upstairs towards the empty lounge area he’d reserved prior. It was a modest space containing a coffee table, two lounge chairs, and a matching leather sofa over a beautifully sewn rug. Bookshelves flanked the space on both sides of it, though a large oval-shaped window to its east allowed the soft light of the sunset to filter through. Fairly soon, that light would fade entirely, and the lantern-like lights hanging from the walls of the bookstore in perfectly spaced increments would turn on.
For now, however, the Galarian royal basked in that soft evening light. He’d chosen one of the lounge chairs as his seat while he waited for either of his invited persons to arrive. With his leg neatly folded across one knee, he took a sip from his tea latte and stared at the large tome he’d set upon the coffee table. Its leather cover was almost impossibly wrinkled and clearly centuries old. Were it not for the measures he’d taken, he wondered whether it would have remained intact as well it was today.
MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW