A library was a place of silence, solitude and learning. It was a place of peace. It smelled strongly of old novels near the back and new paper nearer the front, and a little like lemon bleach on the ceramic tile which led into the building. By the checkout a display on cooking Mediterranean food stood, with book waiting patiently for people to come by and snatch them up.

At least, that was how Mister Wayne DeLacy liked to think of it. Books her ever patient. They made no demands of a man. You could take your time reading it and it would never yell at you, and you would never just catch the end of it, unlike a television. The best part was you could pick what ever you wanted to read as opposed to the stations choosing which programs came on at what time.

Wayne was a decently tall man who was perhaps a little too skinny. Whether this was due to genetics or just forgetting meals now and again was for someone else to think about. He had long, black hair that was unruly and messy, as he often ran his hair through it. He had large, brown doe eyes that were hidden behind a pair of thick framed spectacles. He had a long, pointy nose that turned up at the tip ever so slightly, and a rather slender, feminine jaw. On this particular day he had chosen a pair of black jeans held up by a simple black belt, a soft pink button up shirt, a dark brown sweater vest, and a tie which was red paisley in design.

He was standing in the biography section, restocking books at the moment. He had the Dewey Decimal memorized. He knew where every book in this library belonged. Not because he was good at remembering, but more likely because the books had a habit of telling him. Not to say he was crazy, though sometimes he wondered. More like words ingrained themselves in his skull and spoke to him.

As he put the books back in their respected places, he silently judged the library goer's choices. Some where very good, a few he had yet to read and made a mental note to do so and some point, and many were very, very bad.

Pausing, he looked out the window to find the day heavy with rain. People would not be coming in on a day like this. Only a few regulars, real bookworms like Wayne. It would be an easy day. A smile spread across his thick, cupid's bow lips. He wasn't quite sure why, but he loved rainy days.

Living on the streets had taught Fade to take advantage of places open to the general public. These places included malls, libraries and museums. However, Fade hardly ever took advantage of libraries and museums. Perhaps if she had finished grade school and knew how to read without pause or understand what each exhibit or section of the library told what story. No, museums required money before entering, something she did not have enough to pay for silly stuff and libraries were full of books that she could not read. She only entered libraries when it was raining outside and she had no where else to go.

Those days were long over, ever since she found the Mansion, that glorious place that gave her a warm bed, a house full of mutant friends and that directed her down the right path of good morals. Though she had not mastered reading, she was getting better. It was a boring day, and what better way to spend it then to hide her attempts at learning how to read? She would have been too embarassed to admit to anyone at the Mansion that a 21 year old had never learned how to read. Truth be told, she should have learned when she was 16, but she was not admitted to the school as a student, she needed the place to stay and Tricity opened the school for her.

When Fade began fighting for the Mansion, she seemed to fall out of that 'yes, I'm here to study' category, especially with her special needs. Reading had become less of a priority and she was too embarassed to even teach herself amongst Mansion company. The library was not exactly swarming, but she doubted library patrons ever did that. She looked around, pulling random book after random book off of the shelf and passing judgement on it. Some of them were too long and too heavy, she needed to start with something light enough so she would not have too much difficulty, but heavy enough so no one gave her any weird looks. She doubted beginning with the Bernstein Bears would not call attention to herself.

She continued down the rows, trying to find a book that fit her needs and had an interesting book cover. There were some with women being passionately held by partially clothed men, which sort of made her blush with embarassment before returning the books. Other books were rather bland and large, they seemed to match the next few books around them, they were part of some sort of educational series. Curiously, she opened one of them and found pictures, enough pictures to let her know what the segment in the book was about. Confused on whether she should pick that to read, she stood awkwardly in front of the empty slot in the bookshelf, holding the book open while resting it on her hip. Her eyes scanned the book, flipping a few of the pages every now in then to decide whether she was satisfied with this choice.

Suddenly there was a girl. She stood in the aisle opposite him. She was holding some old book and seem very intent as to what it had to say. He watched her for a few moments as she flipped through the pages sporadically. He then turned back to his own work, moving down the aisle until he came to the same on the girl was in. He had to take down a couple of books because they had not been put back in their proper places. One even came from the fiction section. He set it on his cart and almost glared at her, wondering if she was the one to blame for the book being in the wrong place.

"S-s-s-scuse mmmme..." he said quietly, stutter become very pronounced. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tilted his head forward a little. This allowed his long hair to help hide his face. "M-mmmarie Curie?" he inquired, scanning the self to see that particular biography was not in place. He finally looked at the girl, her clothes and face, wondering why it was she had chosen this particular biography out of the hundreds spread amongst these shelves. A soft blush decorated his cheeks and he looked away again. Talking to people wasn't really his thing.

Someone interrupted with a small, studdering voice. Fade's presently green eyes rose to take in the person who had intruded on her decision making. Although she did not catch what he had said, she guessed that he needed to get by to put something away, so she looked to the shelf to see if she was in his way, moving slightly to step out of his way. But before she was even able to finish the step, he spoke again, this time she was able to catch what he had said. Marie Currie? Who was that? Confused, she looked down at the book in her hands and scanned for the nearest possible capital M. There it was, M-a-r-i-e. Though Currie was not printed next to it, Fade assumed it was because the constant use of the subject’s last name was not necessary this far into the book. It was obvious that Marie Currie was a person, so had she happened to pick up a biography? Sure, she could use the education, but she was sure learning a broad range of things and then diving into specific historical people would be a better idea.

”Oh,” she said, now realizing what she had picked up. Embarrassed, she felt her cheeks begin to color red and she felt the urge to blink into invisibility. She was in a public place though, she was not at the Mansion so she had no idea whether the man in front of her was a mutant or just another human. She could not risk visibility blinking around him, so she tried to settle her embarrassment by coming up with a story about why she was holding the book. ”Just trying to decide who I should write my paper on,” she lied. Of course, knowing her luck, he would ask her what kind of paper she had to write, so she decided to answer the question first, ”I can write on anyone really, it’s just a practice paper, really,” she said, closing the book slowly.

The man seemed shy, judging by the way he let his hair fall in front of his face like a veil to keep up an imaginary wall. She did not want him to feel like she did not enjoy his company, she was growing tired of searching for a good book to ‘read’ without looking like an illiterate young woman. ”So who would you suggest?” she asked, deciding to make their interaction into a conversation. She had not exactly met anybody new for the past couple of days and it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

He nodded, listening to her, trying his best to not even look at her. Wayne shuffled through books, putting them back on the shelf or taking ones that were incorrectly shelved. He paused when she asked what he would suggest.

Looking up and down the aisle, what he was looking for caught his eye. Reaching to the top of the shelf, he took down a medium sized book. He turned and shyly held it out to the girl. "George S-s-sand." This was his first biography he had ever read. "Wh-what c-c-class is it ffffor?" He turned back to his little cart, looking through what he had left to shelve.

He wondered idly what the girl's name was and where she went to school. She seemed wonderfully nice and patient with him. She didn't open her mouth and watch his lips, trying to form the words for him as he spoke. She didn't interrupt him either. In fact, she had made no comment on his stutter.

He pushed his glasses up his nose, at the end of the aisle he caught the rain outside of the window again. His thoughts turned to the sudden change in weather, as earlier today the newsman said it would be sunny. Then again, the newsmen weren't always trustworthy... their smiles especially were fake.

George Sand? Who was that? Fade's lack of education did kept her fairly limited on how many historical figures she knew about. For all she knew, George Sand could have been some famous dancer in the jungle that specialized on tapdancing upon elephants. Maybe she needed to watch more History and Discovery Channel specials. Perhaps that was how she could learn more without having to learn to read first. Yes, maybe shows were easier for a woman in her position. Still, she took the book and opened it to the first few words, scanning over them. A few words stood out most to her, mostly the words that consisted of one letter and the most common words such as 'the', 'and', 'of', and 'his'.

"Hmmm, never heard of him," she said, flipping through the pages, not learning much from them. He asked her what class the paper was for, which was what she hoped he did not ask her. However, she had not spent the past few seconds simply hoping he wouldn't ask it, she was thinking of something broad enough to include George Sand and Marie Currie while still being a legit class. "Oh, it's more like an intro class. Intro to College-uh" oh no! What was the word?! "Writing," she ended, trying hard not to make it sound more like a question.

He did not seem like he wanted to make eye contact, which was fine with Fade. With her ever-changing eyes, anyone that stared into them for too long, they usually put two and two together and realized her green eyes eventually turned blue then purple then red or whatever other color they really felt like turning. She always figured that in order to turn invisible, she had to mimic every color around her to blend in, which was why her eyes went all haywire. Yet she had met another who had the 'blend in' power and it was different than that. It was interesting.

He frowned slightly, chocolate brown eyes watching her face for a mere second, and then back to the books on the cart. Him? He listened to the girl flip through the pages. Did she maybe think it was George's father? "G-g-george Ssssand is a wo-wo-woman," he stated quietly, gently so as not to sound judgmental. He was not looking for a fight in anyway. "Her r-r-r-real nnnname was Amantine Dupin. A b-b-baroness. G-g-geeeorge Ssssand was her su-su-su... her nome de plume... ah... pen name... She was a F-f-french nnnnovelist." He wring his hands together, picking at his nails as he spoke. So many sentences and so hard to form.

A writing class was it? So George Sand was perfect! Like he'd always thought, the books spoke to him. They choose their people, not the other way around. Kind of like in Harry Potter... With the wands. The thought brought a twitch of a smile to his lips.

Wayne pushed his glasses up his long, pointy nose. "I hooope you d-d-do well in y-your c-c-class." He glanced down at her face again and then away, to the shelves. He fiddled with the books there, making sure they were all in place and very tidy looking. "I-i-if you nnnnnneed any hhhhhelp, d-d-don't hesitate to a-ask."

The rain poured down on Cecilia like Heaven its self was splitting open at the seams. Considering she had read the weather report this morning, and had dressed for what has been forecast, now soaked through to the bone, she was far from pleased.
Originally, today seemed the perfect day to go out and explore her new city. She had found the hospital, a tailor, a shoe cobbler, a dry cleaner, and a few other stores that provided the goods and services she knew she couldn’t afford to live without. The day had gone well enough, until she now found herself caught in a downpour that felt like it might threaten to flood. She entered the first door that was open, not caring a stitch about what was behind it. She could have endured anything, from lawyers to burlesque dancers, if it meant she could dry off.
She walked carefully into the library, ensuring her wet shoes wouldn’t trip her up against the smooth, clean, tile. She tossed the wet newspaper into the first recycling bin she spied. The free celebrity rag newspaper had proved valuable when it came to shielding her hair and face from the rain, but her body was not so lucky. Her wide legged black trousers were damp throughout the pant legs, but the hems had been soaked numerous times by deep puddles and passing traffic that rudely spraying water onto her. Luckily, the heavy dark fabric barely showed a difference between being wet and dry.
She smoothed any fizz in her blonde pin-curled hair back into place as she looked around her surroundings. She didn’t hear, nor see a thing. Working quickly, as to not appear like a vulgar woman, she removed her grey blouse, rung it out into the same recycling bin she had utilized early, and stuffed it into her purse. She now wore a sleek black camisole tucked into her high waisted pants accented with a thick fabric belt made in the same material s the trousers. The camisole was trimmed delicately in Chantilly lace, with the lace layered over top of the thick straps that held the fabric tight against her shoulders. The cut was relaxed but still flattering to her womanly shape. She knew the camisole was not, in its self, inappropriate, but it was one thing to enter in such an outfit, and an entirely different image to strip down to it.
She applied a layer of dark red lipstick, knowing the outline of her lips so well from habit; she didn’t need the aid of a mirror. She cautiously walked further into the library, playing with the black beads of her 1920's Lariat necklace, wondering if she was indeed alone.

It wasn't that the library at Xavier's wasn't good enough for Gina, it was just that one could only stay in the same place for so long. She had awoken early that morning, checked the weather forecast, and dressed herself appropriately-- she wore a raincoat, jeans, and a t-shirt. Her hair was subdued by a Scrunchi, drawn into a ponytail at the crown of her head. She was armored with her satchel and a wallet, but little else, as she wanted there to be enough room for her books.

She had been inside long enough to dry off, and had walked the entire library without really stopping, getting a sense for how everything was laid out. This library was so huge, and so overwhelming, that the gargoyle wasn't sure where she'd start, or how she'd be able to fit all of the books she wanted into one bag. After some perusing, and stuffing a good number of books into her satchel, Gina found herself dominating a sofa in the young adult section. She lay on her stomach, her legs swinging absently in the air as she read Frankenstein, which was propped up against the arm of the sofa. Her satchel, fat with books, sat awkwardly on the floor, now bearing a box-shaped look because of its load.

She'd always been fond of the book. It provided great food for thought, and she always wondered if Frankenstein was actually symbolic of a mutant, and not just some zombie-like manmade creation. If the message behind it was that men were really monsters, and monsters were really the ones that you could trust.

The library was relatively devoid of others, which had made this excursion much easier. It was always difficult to get up and down the narrow aisles when you had wings on your back. Especially when there were others besides you, around.

The flow of people in and out of the library was very choked, likely because of the weather, and so each time someone came in or went out, Gina would look up from her book to see what sort of people came into the library. None seemed to notice or acknowledge her, but this did not matter-- she was wrapped up in her book anyways. She watched as an elegant woman entered the library, appearing stately despite being soaked to the bone. Gina let her attention wander back to the book, humming to herself in an off-key way. Yes, it was truly a quiet day in the library.

((OOC: I felt like joining as well, hope that nobody minds?))

Fade paused when her new companion corrected her on who George Sand was. The redhead raised her eyes from the book she was flipping through and looked around, hoping only her nervous friend realized she had made that mistake. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and burn them pink in embarassment. Slowly, she closed the book and brought it down to her side, still feeling embarassed, but she smiled and attempted to laugh it off. "Hahaha, oh goodness, just goes to show how much I have to learn!" she said, hoping that did not make her sound like she was dumb, but simply needed more books to read.

Attempting to change the subject, though he seemed to make his exit by turning from her, yet still offering help. "What that French you spoke?" she asked, slightly determined to regain her name after the gender confusion. "Do you speak it fluently or just educated in certain words from the French language?" she asked, curiously. Fade had never learned another language, she had been to Europe a few times, sneaking onboard an aircraft using her mutation, but the trip there always took hours and not to mention the language barrier between herself and the natives.

There was a soft clicking noise that sounded from the middle aisle of the book shelves and Fade turned her attention momentarily to a well dressed woman who appeared to come straight out of the 20s. It was an interesting look, though the drenched cami did not seem to fit in quite as well, it seemed slightly out of place, but who was Fade to judge? She was simply in jeans and a t-shirt, not dressed to impress. The woman made her curious though if she were a mutant as well, but she had learned not to automatically assume anyone bold in their fashion or pronounced in their words was a mutant.