Art was both the love of Sadie's life, and the bane of her existance. Or rather, this art project was the bane of her existence. The professor had assigned the piece with a 'fantastical' theme. Overcome with ideas and inspired by none of them, Sadie was struggling to wrap her mind around the project. She was almost the last student left in the theatre, and the professor was on his way out the door. There wasn't another class after this one, so the lights automatically turned off by a timer. Left walking down the theatre steps in the dark, she decided to turn to her third favourite thing in life and head to the library. Surely some literature would spark an interest of some sort.

20 minutes later Sadie found herself walking through the stacks in a random myths and legends section she'd found in the library catalogue. Her satchel was slung across her body over one shoulder, and her left arm was aching from a growing pile of old books. This particular spot in the library was more secluded and quiet, and housed mainly older editions. Most of the books she was carrying were between fifty and a hundred years old, all about tales from different places of origin. The air was musty, and her arm was getting more achy by the second. She decided that she had enough to read, and just as she began to turn to the small lamp-lit desk on which she had made herself at home, another book caught her eye. Scared that she wouldn't be able to find it a second time, Sadie committed herself to a balancing act of sorts as she bent down to reach it on the bottom shelf. And then almost bucked at the weight of it. It was thick, likely around one thousand pages long, bound in leather that was worn so much the title was hardly legible. Unable to open it there, she walked back through the maze of shelves and found her desk. Sadie dumped the rest of the stack in a pile on the floor and opened the big book, flipping through pages of mesmerising illistrations. Stopping at one in particular, a strangely dark ship fighting it's way in a rough ocean that looked ready to tear it apart. Underneath was the description, but for some reason, Sadie's eyes could not focus on on the words. The rest of the writing was clear, except for the description of the illistration. A strange feeling churned in Sadie's gut as she flipped the page and began to read on, stopping at words and phrases that would have provided the fine details that were blurred out. Time passed, minutes and then hours, and the library darkened around her as she read.

She didn't know when she fell asleep. One moment she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the next, she was slumped forward over the open pages of the book. There was a faint sound, like air rushing past her ears, and then silence.

Oh please don't! I get carried away and it's my own fault. It'll dwindle don't worry XD))

Alright you convinced me, I'll write a short one))

Sadie looked up from her fourth sketch when she heard a new voice shout across the crowded room. She squinted to see who the new voice belonged to, but it took a few moments before the person came into view. A girl that looked to be around the same age as her, give or take a couple of years, sat down next to a big man. Sadie cocked her head and observed, her ears trained on them with intrigue as she drew the scene.

The latest sketch of the girl sitting with the man took up almost an entire page of the skatchbook. Sadie was so lost in thought and her observations that the girl she had been watching and sketching was halfway to her table before she noticed. Her face heated with the realisation that she had been caught. Dropping her pencil and snapping her book shut, Sadie staightened in her seat. She gulped as the stranger neared, and then schooled her features to an expression of utter blankness.

Sadie blinked and then pasted on a smile. "Listening to you? Oh no, I could hardly hear you." She shrugged, her fingers playing with the corner of her sketchbook. "I would say I was watching, observing... not staring. I'm not a stalker." Sadie noticed the stranger's eyes take her clothes in. She'd had a verbal presentation to give that morning(or was it yesterday morning?) and had dressed up for it. She wore a dress shorts and blazer set with a gray blouse, and her black heals, only two inches high, laced up her legs. The outfit was beautiful(it only cost her an arm and a leg), and she'd been showered with compliments the whole day. But in this room, she stood out like a sore thumb. A red handprint on a white wall. Completely, severely, out of place.