The sun felt unfamiliar on his face, an unwelcome intruder in the solitude of his memory. The whisper of the wind, almost as if a roar. The occasional sound of a an eye, the sound of a living thing. All felt strangely unfamiliar after his time in the crypts. The utter stillness, the utter silence, the utter, all consuming, reassuring embrace of death that hung heavy in the catacombs, so thick you could reach out and grasp it. Valetni liked that, he felt reluctance, as if straining against a tether that sought to anchor him to the crypt, he pondered this for a moment, then strode forth.<br/><br/>Destination: Library.