Hitting the Books [open]
Posted on: Dec 15, 2015 19:51:57 GMT -5
Post by Blaise Cain on Dec 15, 2015 19:51:57 GMT -5
Blaise Cain stepped into the library of Gray Haven Academy. So this was it. Not bad, he decided as he looked around. The library certainly had quite the impressive assortment of books, if the number of shelves were anything to judge it by. He had to admit, even he was impressed. And he had never considered himself much of a bookworm. Blaise had always been more of a street smart guy than a book smart guy. But still, he had deemed the library worth exploring. If he was going to be spending his time here at the Academy, he best familiarize himself with the various facilities that were available to him. Of course, at this moment in time, he was much more interested in the cafeteria. But that would come later. For now, he’d satisfy himself with the library.
Of course, he could turn tail and leave now. After all, he’d seen it. What more was there for him to experience? But for some reason, he was just interested enough to linger. Perhaps it was just plain old curiosity. Blaise crossed the library and immersed himself in one of the small rows between shelves. He began to paw through the books, looking for anything that caught his interest. What he found varied. For a moment, he paused on a book about apricorns. Ah, the craft of Johto, he thought. Once upon a time, when Blaise was very young, an elderly woman had come to Blackthorn and she had been skilled in the art of crafting Pokeballs from the fruits. His mother had ordered a set from her. Blaise remembered how his mother had shown him the fine craftsmanship that had went into the balls, calling attention to the smallest of details. A ball worthy of a dragon, she had called it. It was one of the earliest lessons his mother had given him on Pokemon training. Maybe that was why he was here now.
And then he shoved the book back in place. No need to read it, he thought. It wasn’t as if he was destined to create Pokeballs. No, he was meant to be a trainer, a dragon tamer like the people of Blackthorn and his mother’s family were meant to be. Blaise was the kind of person who used what others crafted. It was the way things were. Still, it seemed like a nice enough profession for those who would seek to pursue. Not that he ever would.
Blaise whistled as he walked up and down the shelves, ever so softly as to not disturb the other students. For once, he’d actually read the rules of the establishment and he deemed them worthy enough to follow. The logic behind them was sound and they didn’t inconvenience Blaise himself. But still, he could not help but whistle. He had music in his heart, and he had to let it out. His song continued as he stooped to a lower shelf to pull a particularly large tome, one bound in leather, the spine marked by the ages. It looked kind of cool, he or at least he thought so. And then he read the title: “The Great Tradition of Glasscraft: Making Flutes”. Boring, he thought as he put the book back in place.
With a sigh, he rose back to standing. Nothing had caught his eye. Of course, hundreds of books remained. He just didn’t have the time to look at them all. Still, Blaise would linger for a few moments longer. Perhaps something would catch his attention.
Of course, he could turn tail and leave now. After all, he’d seen it. What more was there for him to experience? But for some reason, he was just interested enough to linger. Perhaps it was just plain old curiosity. Blaise crossed the library and immersed himself in one of the small rows between shelves. He began to paw through the books, looking for anything that caught his interest. What he found varied. For a moment, he paused on a book about apricorns. Ah, the craft of Johto, he thought. Once upon a time, when Blaise was very young, an elderly woman had come to Blackthorn and she had been skilled in the art of crafting Pokeballs from the fruits. His mother had ordered a set from her. Blaise remembered how his mother had shown him the fine craftsmanship that had went into the balls, calling attention to the smallest of details. A ball worthy of a dragon, she had called it. It was one of the earliest lessons his mother had given him on Pokemon training. Maybe that was why he was here now.
And then he shoved the book back in place. No need to read it, he thought. It wasn’t as if he was destined to create Pokeballs. No, he was meant to be a trainer, a dragon tamer like the people of Blackthorn and his mother’s family were meant to be. Blaise was the kind of person who used what others crafted. It was the way things were. Still, it seemed like a nice enough profession for those who would seek to pursue. Not that he ever would.
Blaise whistled as he walked up and down the shelves, ever so softly as to not disturb the other students. For once, he’d actually read the rules of the establishment and he deemed them worthy enough to follow. The logic behind them was sound and they didn’t inconvenience Blaise himself. But still, he could not help but whistle. He had music in his heart, and he had to let it out. His song continued as he stooped to a lower shelf to pull a particularly large tome, one bound in leather, the spine marked by the ages. It looked kind of cool, he or at least he thought so. And then he read the title: “The Great Tradition of Glasscraft: Making Flutes”. Boring, he thought as he put the book back in place.
With a sigh, he rose back to standing. Nothing had caught his eye. Of course, hundreds of books remained. He just didn’t have the time to look at them all. Still, Blaise would linger for a few moments longer. Perhaps something would catch his attention.
