Novel & Cerita Woman With A Book

The pretty lady had a petite build with wide hips, her hands holding onto a list and several books. Dorothy stiffened. The new woman’s eyes were focused on Theodore, a shy, tender smile curving her lips. Daffodil flinched when a loud noise at her right caught her attention. She whirled around to stare wide-eyed. A gorgeous lady stood glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. Glancing down, Daffodil saw the lady had laid a heavy stack of books on the table. “New librarian?” Her voice was cold and annoyed.

The shelves were filled with neatly arranged books. I wondered if he read. If he ever sat there and lost himself in pages the way I used to when the pain became too much. Curious, I walked over. The books were arranged in meticulous order—almost obsessive. I trailed my fingers along their spines, scanning the titles. “No. Alpha Alexander might be unwell,” a voice startled me, “but he is obsessed with books.” I turned quickly. A woman stood by the door, holding a tray of food. She wore a simple maid’s uniform, but her expression held something else—warmth? Or pity?

“Can I help you?” came a voice from beside me, and I almost jumped in surprise. A woman was standing by the bookstore’s doorway, a few feet away from me. She had silver hair that looked flat and thin, like a grandma, but her skin was free of wrinkles. She must be in her mid to late twenties. “Oh, no, I’m just looking while waiting for my fiancée,” I replied. “Be careful with the book. It’s ancient.” “Excuse me?”

But who isn’t? Anyway, I should be thankful. At least, I have a roof over my head, four thick-stone-walls to protect me from cold as well as the angry mob outside, a small window high up to allow some sun, --with some bars... like you would see in the jail. There is a straw-filled bed on a stone structure, a blanket, and... a basket of fresh chrysanthemums. "To liven the room and lighten the mood," Sister Elise said with that solemn smile. “A happy heart is good medicine,” She adds. "What a bitch," I said with my eyes.

He turned back abruptly, his hands cupping Zoe’s face with a firm grip, forcing her head toward the window. “Hey! What are you doing?” “Shh,” Aaron hissed, pointing down toward the small courtyard below. “Look.” Zoe narrowed her eyes, following his gaze. Down below, a woman sat on a stone bench, quietly reading a book. She wore a white lab coat, her long black hair dancing softly in the evening breeze. Under the glow of the streetlights, she seemed to possess a faint, ethereal aura. Her features were delicate, her eyes as calm and clear as a mountain lake. She radiated a sense of purity and grace, like a porcelain doll untouched by the chaos of the world.

The woman took the book from the desk and signed it back in the log. After that, Snow returned it to its shelf and considered finding another book. She walked toward the staircase leading to the upper hall, her eyes shimmering at how bright and beautiful the library looked. Books—rows and rows of them—all containing knowledge about themselves, other kinds, and more. She trailed her fingers along the spines of the books when her gaze landed on a particular one. “Mate Bond,” she muttered. She probably shouldn't be reading it, but her curiosity was suddenly piqued.

A small fire crackles in the corner, filling the air with the scent of burning wood, and the walls are lined with bookshelves, each one packed with worn, well-loved volumes. A short woman stands by a table near the window, sorting through various jars and containers. She's older, with silver hair pulled back in a loose bun, and her eyes light up with a kindness I haven't seen in anyone else here. Judging by her scent, she doesn’t have any authority meaning she must just be a regular pack member. For a moment, I'm taken aback. She doesn't look at me like I'm some kind of threat or intruder. Instead, she gives me a gentle smile, as if I'm just another guest.

They might have an idea of who collects Renae's notes. There's only one woman in here today. Anna. A middle aged woman with a constant sneer on her face, and said sneer is currently directed at me. I don't bother with her, going straight for the shelf. I feign searching for one of my favoured romance tomes. I take out one, set it on the table and begin my search for the next. I turn back once and when I'm certain the woman isn't staring, I take out Renae's book and flip the pages. It's...empty.

Canus throws some subtle sorcery around us to keep our group from notice, leading us to an empty table in the corner of the mess hall. ‘Find anyone yet?’ he asks barely a second after we sit down. I open my mouth to protest that we’ve only just gotten here, but Scintilla says, ‘Behind you, three tables away. The knit shawl.’ Canus turns to look, and I follow his gaze to see a young woman with limp brown hair, picking half-hearted at a salad as she continues paging through an enormous book. Tome, I should say, since its leather looks like it’s seen at least a couple of centuries.

You're smaller than I expected. The woman in the library looked up from her book without any particular urgency, like I had knocked instead of just walked in. She was older, maybe seventy, with white hair pinned loosely and reading glasses pushed up on her forehead. Small framed, wrapped in a dark cardigan, seated in the largest chair in the room like she had been the one to put it there. People usually are, she said. Sit down, Ella.