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"Hold still, and do not speak," Ardea instructed the girl, keeping his eyes on the book... creature. He himself stood ready to attack, but did not move yet, counting on the age-old idea that if he did not move, he would not be seen.

Or at the very least, Aquae would not be seen. The scribe did not want any harm to come to her for any reason, no matter how strange that reason might be.

Yet as he stood ready but unmoving, a small part of Ardea's mind nagged him that this would not end until either the book was dead, or he and the girl were. The second option was totally out of the question.

As his master lunged at the strange monster that looked like a book, Ink fluttered from Ardea's shoulder, but kept close by. Perhaps he could be useful? For now, though, the familiar was too frightened to get too close. If Ardea told him to fight, he would.

The scribed tried not to allow himself to be too flustered by the loss of knowledge - how ever incredibly bizarrely it had happened. The best way to ensure that no more books tried to attack the larger one was if he took things into his own hands and killed off this... crazy monster himself. There would be time later to ask questions, and attempt to repair any damage done.

Hoping he was not being too hesitant about this battle thing- curses it was attacking! "Miss Aquae, get back," Ardea told the girl, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tried to decide whether to counterattack himself, or concentrate more on shielding the girl. Would she be able to get out of the way in time?

And with that, Ardea's feet told him he was taking up too much time with useless thinking, and his hands agreed. While his brilliant mind tried to catch up with all of this, the fey lept forward, aiming to plant his dagger in that beast of a book.

Dear gods, I am stabbing a book!

Ink, who had been keeping close, abruptly realized that being so close to the flashing tongue of the monster was not likely in his best interest. He chirped something to his master, and maneuvered himself to a higher altitude. But fortunately or unfortunately, he was not the target.

"Damn you body, now what?" Ardea hissed to himself as his dagger connected and the book's ribbon retaliated. Tongue. Whatever it was.

The scribe's brain fiercely insisted that this whole battle was completely ridiculous, but that, of course did not get him out of trouble. Hopefully, Ardea's reflexes would be able to keep him from harm for the moment, since it seemed that was all he could rely on right now....

(( And Ardea's reflex save is +3... *crosses fingers* ))

The little girl regarded the newcomer calmly with wide eyes, pointing towards the book and then at it's tongue,
"Try to Eat." she said quietly.


The book's tongue recoiled, and suddenly it squealed and sunk back into the floor, the hole that it had created disappearing with it. The library looked...normal..once again.

The little girl was surrounded suddenly by a very bright light. She fell to her knees in tears as the growing struck her.

As it disappeared, it revealed a newer, older version of the tiny toddler who had once lie there.


She pulled herself to her knees, covered in tiny beads of sweat, and gasped for air as she tried to come back to some sense of control.

The bookmonster mysteriously gone and the other Fey properly greeted, Ardea turned back to Aquae, hoping the girl was not too overly shaken up by the whole battle.

"Miss Aquae?" the scholar began as he turned to face her- and was promptly blinded by the light of growth as it eminated from the child's body. His nerves frayed as they were, though, Ardea did not immediately recognize it as the odd process by which his kind matured, and was nearly about to rush to her side with his dagger drawn when he was suddenly overcome with dizziness.

Too much excitement for one day, the Heron figured, putting a hand to his head as his eyes fluttered closed. The dagger slipped from his fingertips and clattered to the hardwood floor; a moment later, Ardea hit the ground beside it, having fallen into a faint.

Ink, similarly shaken up by all that had happened in the last couple minutes, fluttered down to land in his master's mussed-up hair. He chittered to the Heron in a language only the two of them could understand, and, getting no response, settled on glancing confusedly between the Otter fey in the doorway and the Lake as the glow faded from her body.

The bat dearly hoped that days like this were the exception and not the rule in this fairy castle.