"Sorry ..." Philomel gave a weak smile to the elf at the desk as she dropped the pile of books.

The elf blinked, and her expression turned devoutly sour as her eyes bore into the sinful scratches and nibbles now forever scarring the leatherwork. With an apologetic wince Philomel slid a small pouch of clinking money across the desk, then quickly whisked her hand away.

Philomel!

The end of the russet and white tail was already whipping around the corner into the entrance hallway of the library. Quickly, Philomel gave a slight bow of her head to the shocked and horrified elf who was now left with these mistreated volumes, and then turned on her hoof. Leaving money was a sign of a peace treaty, something she would not usually do, but the circumstances were a little too hilarious for the faun not too. Maybe some other time she would come back and take the same amount of gold from the library itself ... but then, the Nightingale had always respected houses of learning. They were great institutions of research and development, no matter how 'wrong' their works might be, according to Veridian. Therefore, she did not act as the rude whore she usually did, and apologised, before walking swiftly away, her weapons lightly clanging, after her familiar.

Outside of the library, beyond the giant doors that were constantly open, the two beings of Corone stepped into the main street of Eluriand. It was a place a long way from home, in a city that was as urban as Radasanth, yet so different in terms of architechture and stonework. Base grey in its masonry and elegant in structure it boasted a beauty that was beyond human conception, yet barely something of elvish design. Some of the buildings were decrepit, still stuck in that way since the wars that had ravaged this country, yet other were new as an attempt by the government to awaken a new form of social identity in the ragged people of Raiaera.

The faun and the fox were two very awkward beings in this place, and as they strode down the roads between high arches and pointed ears many odd looks came their way. People stared at the weapon-laden, big-breasted beauty, and they commented upon sight of those startingly brilliant gold eyes of Veridian. They gossiped and laughed, and frowned and wondered what sort of folk were encroaching on their city, striding through like they belonged here, when most clearly they did not.

Despite these happenings, however, Veridian continued on. His tail swished, left to right, and his nose pointed in the air like a black beacon of directional purposes. For him this was a time of desperation and barbarianism, to cut off the head of the scholars before any other dire mistakes were made, and for Philomel, for a rare circumstance, it was her time to follow. The Earth Spirit seemed to know where he was headed, and he made no real contact to his darling to tell her where it was. They had not really been long in Eluriand, after all - just a couple of days, mostly to get quotes on supplies for the ship, and so did not know the city well. Philomel already knew that they were not headed back to the harbour and the ships beyond, for Veridian's nose was pointed in the air and not towards the sea, and for a moment she was tempted to ask where he was intending to go.

She bit her lip, caught between utter amusement, and utter confusion. Slowly, she opened up her mind.

Veridian ...

Here! he suddenly declared, swinging a sharp right.

Philomel paused, then blinked, her eyes rapidly expanding. Before them was a building, a bungalow, set into a terrace and very strange. It was not the sort of place she would ever, ever, choose to go into, mainly because of its content. It was fashioned of rough sandy-toned brick, and had a smell coming from an open window of bog-breath and frog's legs. Little shutters stood to the side of each window sill, painted a fuscia pink, the same colour that matched the door, and Philomel was horrified to see that it was here the fox was proudly walking towards.