A worn, beaten satchel sat slumped in a plush chair in the second floor library. Its cover was open and its contents were piled up neatly on the cherry-wood table in front of it. A moleskine notebook, a pen and a watch all sat at the ready. The watch's constant and affirming ticking kept the time in a way David's heart couldn't any longer.
David stood at a bookshelf, his nose in a book, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Perhaps, David wanted to see what was written about his 'Family Business' or just wanted to read a bit about a grand-sire he has never met. Never the less, the Mekhet turns away from the bookshelf heading back to his spot at the table, book in hand.
Many of David's own books, were still lost in the mail and he accepted that they might never arrive. The sight of the Order's extensive library, then, was gratefully welcomed and he felt it was time he became acquainted with it.
The easy to overlook Mortician, bent slightly to write a note in his notebook with one hand. The other, kept the tome he was reading safe.
Draft this Post
