Floral Findings | Divine Research

Seeing Vanessa so out of sorts with her research was disheartening, and while Locke didn't understand the reasoning to her frustration, at the end of the day the difficulty in procuring anything of use was a load that could be lessened if there were only another set of helping hands to assist her. While this wasn't how he was Planning to spend his visit to the cauldron, once she stormed off he found himself hard pressed to not do anything about it. And, at the very least the pheromoo wasn't exactly a stranger to the local library, a private hobby of his own being a nose in a book more often than not when he had the free time to do so. So, throwing any other potential plans out the window for the time being, Locke made the executive decision to tail the frenetic potion maker to assist on her quest to dig up anything he could on the goddess Cybele.

Entering the library without pausing his gait, he offered a flaccid half wave to the librarian at the front without making eye contact with the moo. He wasn't exactly the type for pleasantries on a good day, and he wasn't here for leisure he was here for business- the matter of which, sure he was unsure about but he was confident in the very least that he could maneuver the space on his own. After all, how hard could it be?

Fiction? No.. Fictionalized accounts wouldn't help. Though the halls of nonfiction were strewn with autobiography and field guides they just as swiftly proved fruitless. After about a healthy hour of scouring the shelves his gaze wandered back to the librarian as he idly chewed his lip- maybe someone working here'd have more of an idea? However he wasn't exactly sure, What he was looking for in the first place.. And mulling about explaining his situation wasn't one he was too keen on explaining. Like yeah, hey I'm looking for information on Cybele- it's not for me it's for a friend- er, a business owner- yeah I, she's looking to commune with a goddess that may or may not actually exist in the flesh maybe she's a metaphor or an Idea or an ethereal entity formed by the communal sense of belief and reverence I get that- Point is, he himself wasn't exactly confident on the prospect and would rather not bungle that interaction so with an exhale he flicked his gaze back to the shelves and soldiered on.

Recenter. work backwards. Work with what you Know. What about Cybele could be of any use to this investigation?.. Well, her garden's in town, and though that's something created by the residents of bovine bluffs, Maybe there's something to be found there? Considering if anywhere that's where her presence is felt. It wasn't the strongest lead, but he supposed it was the best one he really Had. If she were to commune there, at least enough to offer blessings, there had to be something about the gardens that held reverence. Maybe it was the location? Or, maybe the offerings?.. Maybe there were clues to be had on location, maybe she spoke in less conventional means. Maybe..

Eyes locked onto a relatively innocuous book. A book of the language of flowers; Something that clearly served as a guide for any erstwhile horticulturist or florist looking to mark up their business with purposeful arrangements. But maybe it Could be something more? Perhaps it could serve as a reference guide, a rosetta stone- Or, maybe he was simply thinking too much into it, brain fried from so much Nothing that he was starting to see signs that weren't there. But, stubborn enough to not wanting to leave completely empty handed, he took a sliver of hope in this lead.

Bolstering this find with, well anything that could help, he wandered into aisles more familiar to his own general sensibilities. Wandering through the fiction section, he wasn't interested in matters of fairytale or the fantastical but, maybe there was some truth in fiction. Eventually, he came across a relatively thick tome with a flowery cover, an anthology of folk tales of Verdan. Unsure on how much crossover there would be to mythology proper, and even less those based in reality, he figured at the very least it couldn't hurt? He'd just keep his findings on that matter to private research- Vanessa didn't need to know Where his sources came from, doubt she'd appreciate her findings compared to those of child's stories.

Turning to the front desk, he keeps the checkout brief and of few words, gaze wandering from making any sort of eye contact or potential prompting from the librarian. Luckily, the exchange is brief, and he makes his way out of the establishment unfulfilled but unscathed. Now at his own leisure, he could thumb through Something in privacy instead of loitering in the building with public records for hours. He'd have to reconvene with Vanessa of course, to see if her effects were Any more fruitful.