A slight frown as the woman touches her hand, her pity easily ebbing through the bond unwished for nor desired, Sibyl pulls her hand away.  The oil of revulsion crawling across her skin like ants on sweetwater.<br/><br/>The mention of the library a welcome respite as she turns slightly, careful well known steps awaiting her as she turns.<br/><br/>Sudden violence brings a change of posture, hands coming to her breast level, palms outward she turns back to 'face' the confrontation.  Sudden change of posture, coupled with the reek of aggression and a foot slightly out of step sends a waft of fear to her own nose, stumbling, a look of incredulity marring her elegant features as she falls, landing in an inglorious heap on her buttocks, a started eep spewing from full lip from a slip completely out of character for the normally composed woman.