library card

Las is puffing by the time he reaches the lake, struggling beneath the weight of his overstuffed satchel. he slumps down with a big sigh, rolling his shoulders to work the kinks out of his throbbing muscles. it's characteristically cold, though hints of spring are visible in the bulbs sprouting along a nearby tree branch. Cutlass tosses his satchel to the ground and eagerly rummages through its contents, skimming the various spines before making a small sound of triumph. he takes out his chosen book carefully, smoothing down the cover like it's something incredibly fragile. "where was i..." he murmurs to himself, mood lifting as he cracks the spine and flicks impatiently through the pages. when he finally finds his page, he reclines back on his haunches and delves into the story with a contented hum, the outside world blurring into mere background noise. ah, bliss.