and we claim that this collection has a name and is a being {private}

quite frankly, zlata doesn't know why they've got a library in camp. everyone's dyslexic; nobody can even read. like, what's the point? except for a few scattered children from athena, there's no one in there; the post at the front has been long since abandoned. there's dust on the chair and everything.

she wanders among the stacks and shelves, running her fingers across the dusty spines. god - gods (she's still not used to that whole gods business) - forbid anyone with allergies comes in here.

out of curiosity, she pulls a book off of a shelf and opens it to a random page, and - oh, that's clearly not english. zlata's not sure what it is, except that she's never seen it before. what's even more confusing is the fact that she can read it.

zlata closes the book and shoves it back onto the shelf randomly. she knows she learned how books were filed in elementary school, but she wasn't exactly paying attention. books are lame when you have dyslexia, she's never had a need for them.

she finds some beanbag in a corner and flops down on it with a huff. if only she could find someone else who would play volleyball with her, she's getting tired of hitting by herself. she can only handle it for so long.

faintly, zlata thinks that they should play, like, smooth jazz over an intercom. or classical. any kind of music, really. the quiet is grating on her nerves. not only did zlata hate books because she was dyslexic, but she just never had the patience to sit around that long. besides, it was hard enough to read when the words float around on the page before your eyes, if she wanted any background noise it'd have been impossible.

she's tugging lightly on one of her large hoop earrings when she notices a girl sitting near her. for a second she opens her mouth to call out to her, but is immediately shushed by someone else. she pouts in the general direction of the shush, but the only person she sees over there is submerged in their book. maybe they've got eyes around the library that instantly shush you when you think of talking.

zlata smiles up at the girl. "zlata solarius," she replies, reaching out to shake rachel's hand. there's yet another shush. go - gods - these people are fussy about their silence. it's actually obnoxious, and zlata is tempted to shout just to annoy them.

"nice to meet you, too," zlata says with a smile. she hears a thunk somewhere over to her left, and when she looks she sees somebody slumped over their table. ah, they're probably the person who kept shushing them.