Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-3991308-20180112063520

It was here, in a secluded area of the school library, cut off from the rest, where Turnus Wyllt, huddled in a hoodie that covered his hair and the top part of his face, precariously balancing, was attempting to reach books on higher shelves.

The magical ladder had whirled away from him, and Turnus had to improvise, finding something with a mechanical-basis or otherwise non-magical to stand on. It was difficult and very few people thankfully paid him very heed, but it was the best he had.

Besides, he didn't have any other option.

Except, perhaps, give up on his little research adventure, which he utterly refused to do.

The books he wanted were on higher shelves for a reason. They tended to be written for a certain branch of humanoids, many of which were blessed with wings, many of which could therefore access the necessary heights.

Meanwhile, Turnus felt like he was blessed with nothing but inconvienences right now. And as expected, he ended up falling from the structure of questionably stability that he had built.

Quite ungratefully, in fact. Princes shouldn't fall like that - it was unseeming, it was pathetic, it made princesses and courtiers and knights snub their noses at you in second-hand embarrassment.

(Turnus was getting quite used to being all of those things.)

He hastened to gather up the books - on fae magic, in particular, on the origins of it. All niche stuff, as you can well imagine. It would make any bystander or onlooker regard you with an odd sense of curiosity and surprise. One would probably offer you less had the books been about the theory of thermodynamics in parallel dimensions.

With a deep sigh and a determination to keep staring at the ground and out of people's line of sight, Turnus prayed under his breath than no one saw him. 