For being the sort of institution in the habit of discouraging, and quite frankly squandering, the creativity that happ’d upon its doorstep, Unova Academy was certainly full of ripe imaginations. Perhaps it was that this entrapment of the mind, by necessity, required its students to first open and expand their minds before they were shut of like valves. Even the glamour deficient immortals like lycanthropes often had the initial effect of breaking down certain mental barriers in those already enlightened few, perhaps they were simply at that optimal age for the resurgence of childhood fancies. Then again, perhaps this particular fae just happened to know all of the right places to look.

Swaddled in Spring’s silken butterfly wings of temperate weather and sunshine, the hallways and classrooms were pitifully quiet. Many students had returned home for their brief respite from research and most others lay sprawled across the campus fields in mimicry of nature’s photosynthesis. Empty the art studios, empty the music halls, empty the literature classrooms! Why, then, was the slender silhouette of a leanan sidhe perusing these halls like a cat hunting a mouse? Because she was, of course, she thought with a slow simper seeping into her smile. Somewhere in this stuffy old citadel ran a fine thread of glamour—an artist, by the acrylic aroma.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good artist in my collection,the otherworldly woman thought as she traced the glamour to the heavy doors guarding the academy’s impressive library. Mmm~ A handsome author and now a promising artίst! It seems this city was just the perfect wellspring to wet my tongue after such an awful dry spell.

She opened the doors without a sound, awash in the scents of old paper, leather, and ink. If she took a stroll down some of these aisles, she was sure that she would find some familiar names along the spines. Old names, however, were not her target here, and she began to move at once with a purpose towards the rear of the cavernous room. Her dress, a shimmery little halter-top with a handkerchief hem swirled about her lissome legs like water as she walked, her arms hanging loosely at her sides and swaying with each sashay of her hips. Though she made litle noise in passing through, she more than easily garnered the attention of the students whom she passed, the very epitome of ethereal beauty. All fae had that effect, she supposed, but she did like to preen her feathers now and again.

At last, following the thread to its completion at a pile of books, the centuries old immortal faltered, her dark, delicate brows drawing together as the essence of her glamour probed outward at the edge of the aura belonging to the girl in front of her. This was…not a human. Certainly not what she was expecting; she had never collected another immortal (too long-lived). Nevertheless, she found that she took an immediate liking to the doll-like figuring couched among a paperbook palace. The girl sat with her attention half riveted on a book of landscapes, half on a sketchbook by her side. She had a smile like the Mona Lisa

“You know,” the leanan sidhe called softly, careful not to startle the young woman, “the light is better outside. Why are you all holed away in this dusty place on such a beautiful day, dear?”