Pele, tiny as she was, didn't have much history to speak of at the moment. Part of it was lost with her own father, and the other half kept with her mother, whom she never thought to ask. She was a fireball now though, and the savannah supposed this was when history really started being made for most people. With no mentor she was still debating where she would go, along the observer's path or to work even harder and attempt to pull herself up the cleric's.

Bast and Auntie Margy were currently swaying the decision in favor of observer however. It was almost like the two had been subtly bribing the scholar with their vast collections, though she doubted they knew. The child had an eye, and nose, for books which was why she ended up finding herself in Margy's open doorway. She'd been a bit more careful since the fem had gotten pregnant, all the women in her books seemed a tad more easy to anger when they were pregnant. It was really all she had to go off, since this would be her first experience in the subject in the real world.

"Whatcha reading Auntie Margy? I'm assuming nothin' fun?"

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It wasn't something Pele knew at the time, but sometimes it was easier to reveal secrets long kept to those you knew for a short time and trusted. Those you'd known for what seemed like (or might've actually been) forever, well it was harder because it was a bigger change for how they might see you. A hard thing to explain in words to be sure.

She pulled herself into the room a bit more and reached up to pull the door closed, a soft click notifying her tiny victory. Auntie Margy and Auntie Suite were women of secrets, she'd figured this out as a child, it seemed a lot of the adults here were ones of locked boxes and words left unsaid and unshared. She wondered if that was what came with the pendants, a naive little thought, that they were what gave you your secrets.

Sitting down near her aunt she cocked her head and raised her 'brow' wondering what she had to show.
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Bast and Margy had been supplying her with books for as long as she could recall. Seeing all of the room's treasures, she wondered if a few of the more...not family friendly fairytales from her aunt had come from this room. She'd read the family friendly versions as well, but the binding was newer, less loved, unlike a few of the books she'd gotten. Some of them she'd been too afraid to open, their spine looking like an autumn leaf. The picture was astounding though, she'd seen little but paintings in her mother's keep and barely had any wall decor of her own. Photographs were still a mystery to one still so young.

Pele rose from her own seat, interested in that which shined in what little light was provided to the room. Sometimes this was gold leaf book titles, other times the flicker of a crystal or gem from some faraway part of the land. Some of these books, like the album Margaery was currenty holding, held photos of old family, scenery and it seemed as though each picture titled with her aunt's name was a different person after a while. It was fascinating, but also a bit frightful, to think that someone could live that long while the world changed around them.

She picked up three things, an older looking necklace, a red bound book (oddly mostly empty), and an oddly carved stick which had caught her eye. She placed them in front of her aunt. "Auntie Margy, what stories go with these? The book's barely written in, and the stick, well it sticks out like a sore thumb."
[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"