The Office of the Curator
As the door swings open in front of you to allow entrance, you are immediately hit with the warmth and scent of baked goods - the diffused light from a window illuminating rows upon rows of baskets filled with all manner of pastries that have yet to be eaten. A kaleidoscope of crumbs, glazes, and jellies adorn every possible nook and cranny of this tiny domain; some fingerprints, others smears. Trays of all sizes and shapes are stacked like miniature castles on a field, most of them appearing to be licked clean! Small piles of pot holders and fluffy towels have been discarded near some of the tray structures.
A long tapestry, representing what appears to be an homage to the spirit of pastries, cloaks the walls with a pristine white-dotted, glistening spectrum of multicolored glitter. In the center of the cluttered abode stands a marble pedestal, a bright halfing woman standing nearby sets a tart-laden cooling rack on its surface. When you look more closely at her:
A long tapestry, representing what appears to be an homage to the spirit of pastries, cloaks the walls with a pristine white-dotted, glistening spectrum of multicolored glitter. In the center of the cluttered abode stands a marble pedestal, a bright halfing woman standing nearby sets a tart-laden cooling rack on its surface. When you look more closely at her:
You see Scrivener Merikas the Archmage.
She appears to be a Halfling.
She appears to be very young. She has bright blue-grey eyes and tanned skin. She has waist length, curly bright red hair with a strand of loosely chained bluebells woven into the strands.
You can hardly recognize her covered in all that soot and ash!
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a flowing brightly-hued cloak edged with colorful bells, a rune-covered dark grey robe, a pair of gold-runed silk casting gloves, a silver clockwork owl, a plain bronze insignia, a small bone periapt, a mithril Twilight Hall pin, a bronze-backed sidewinder scale buckle, a mithril Twilight Hall pin, a six-limbed zoetic quill with a jet rachis and crimson vane, a glacial white smooth glaes armband, a gold-runed dark bronze scroll tube, a gold-plated metal pastry kit, a black velvet drawstring gem pouch, and a sun-clasped ochre leather case.
"Welcome to Twilight Hall's library," she starts after eyeing the cooling tarts, her attention clearly on the pastries more than you. "If you could sign the logbook over there, you can maybe check out a book with the librarian out in the main reading hall. I don't handle the donations, if you want to add books, go see the Historian."
She waves you off, and in a display of classic halfling impatience, she grabs the entire rack of tarts and waltzes off with them to the other side of a large stack of empty trays - the sound of munching faint but signature enough to know the tarts weren't long for the world.
She waves you off, and in a display of classic halfling impatience, she grabs the entire rack of tarts and waltzes off with them to the other side of a large stack of empty trays - the sound of munching faint but signature enough to know the tarts weren't long for the world.