torren [★] cliché

[suvi.]

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— s͢uv̷i͡ ̷k̛iir͜a ó f͞a҉olá҉in | t̢àn̢glewo̧o̷̢d̷͢ | sawbone —

There's quiet solitude in the library.  During odd hours, the petite vixen disappeared into the dim-lit building.  When it was most empty, she found a corner and sat.  Quiet.  Her unmatched hues gleamed dully, tinged with red more often than not.  Accompanied the sluggish way she moved, one might realize she lost more sleep than she ever gained.  She barely attempted to anymore, sick of long nights, staring at the sky unable to drift away entirely.

As the sky grew darker, the youth began to rise to her shaky paws.  She'd found a book to flip through, though she lacked the excitement to tear through it like she may have before.  An old classic.  Treasure Island.  It made her smile, thoughts drifting towards her pirate-identifying family.  She'd head back over soon.  For her father.

She liked to leave when the stars began to appear more vividly.  Some old memory told her they helped her sleep, but Kiira simply longed for their familiarity.  The stars above them now would fade, but only for a while, replaced by other, familiar stars.  A cycle she knew and read well.  A cycle she trusted the continuation of for no one could take away the stars.  B҉ut ȩven͟ ͏stars͠ go̧ o̶ut.͟

First, she had to put her book away, least it lay, uncared for on the floor.  Flicking a disappearing ear, she gently closed the volume.  Carefully, she gripped the side with her jaw, then began slowly trailing the shelves.  Where did I find you?

— T͏O̴G͠ETH͏ER̕ ÁT̴ ̸T̕H̶E ST͏ART̶ O͏F̀ ̵TI̡M͏E —