Some injured, bitter part of Ridahne was glad to see that it wasn't just her who was getting all the dirty looks from the locals. At least their suspicion wasn't wholly her fault, she thought. A part, maybe, but not everyone could have known who she was from either her ojih or rumors. There was too much general fear for it to be just her. Part of her was angry that these people were not showing Darin the respect she deserved, but then she knew precisely how Darin felt about accolades or attention and let it go. Still, it bothered her a little that people were not generally more excited about the Seed Bearer's presence. Outside of the Red Hand, people liked the Gardener, and honored the Seed Bearer. Even if they had all been spooked about the ancient trees of their home suddenly warping and bending at the (unintentional) whims of a human girl, would they not understand that such an event was tied to the Seed Bearer, and therefore meant no harm? 

Ridahne was on edge, feeling the tension in the air as they walked, so she just about jumped out of her skin when the haggard elf woman put hands on Darin. The elf turned so fast that the bone ornamental beads in the two forward braids of her hair swung so hard that they audibly clacked against each other and her collarbone. She had one hand raised as if to forcibly and aggressively break the grip of the woman, but she stopped dead as she caught sight of her. Ridahne had never met Rochelle Pines, but she was a legend often spoken of by all the elf tribes. Depending on who told the story, she was either a cautionary tale about the dangers of actively seeking out visions, or she was revered and honored as the greatest Seer in Astra's history. Ridahne would not lay a forceful hand on her for any money, or under any command. Plus, she was ancient, even by elven standards. What could she really do to hurt anyone?

"That was really her, wasn't it? I didn't realize she still lived..." Her lucidity had always been called into question in every story Ridahne had ever heard, though the warrior got the distinct impression that she was not so far gone as people often talked her up to be. Clearly living in another plane of existence, as the Azurei would say, but not entirely delusional. Ridahne watched her go, then eyed Darin with a stern look that said, [I]"I have questions for you, but I won't ask them here."[/I]  "I will tell you some of the stories I have heard about her later, Martin," she chose to say instead. 

If Lihaelen itself seemed large, it did not prepare one for seeing the Archives for the first time. Lihaelen was massive, but it was a collection of buildings and structures and bridges and platforms that formed something cohesive. The Archives, however, were so large that the building itself had to be constructed on the ground, for not even the ancient trees of Lihaelen would hold up its girth. Within a considerable radius, there were notably no fires anywhere near the Archives, and no fire was ever allowed inside. Instead, the elves of ancient Eluri had cultivated a population of uloia that made their nests in and around the structure and provided ample light. Upon entry, little jars filled with nectar attracted a cluster of the insects and served as torches. No daylight pierced the inside of the structure, because there were no windows to be seen since the sunlight would damage the documents inside over time. 

Everything inside was neat, orderly, and organized. Rows upon rows of shelves of varying shapes to hold varying types of documents filled the building. The shelves were so straight that they could be looked down, all the way to the opposite wall, which was also lined with shelves. The building had multiple floors, and the second one was nearly exclusively taken up by smaller rooms. Some were filled with artifacts, also neatly displayed and ordered, while some were empty except for a desk, some writing implements, and an austere chair. The third floor had no shelves along the walls, but instead was painted with hundreds of murals depicting a wide variety of images. Some were cohesive and clear, like the section that showed what ancient war looked like before the Tree had prevented such a vast evil from occurring. Whoever had painted these had done so in incredible detail, and many of the images were uncomfortable to look at. Other murals were less identifiable, and ranged from hazy shapes of people or suggestions of places to mere blotches and lines of multicolored paint. A middle aged elf woman stood in front of a fresh canvas, her eyes distant and unseeing. She painted as she hummed or muttered to herself, clearly in the throes of some vision. 

The fourth floor was much like the first with its ordered rows of manuscripts, though there were some murals hung on the wall or painted on the ceiling. There were colored banners hanging over different areas of the Archives, and it appeared that there was some color coding system to mark where to find information on specific topics. A large section of Azurei history, for example, was marked with the indigo, white, and black banner of the elf tribe. Milling around the place were a vast number of attendants, each dressed in green and silver robes, that were available for guidance or interpretation, as well as general maintenance. The entire air of the place was surreal and ethereal, especially with the light given by the uloia. But it was oddly silent, too. Not the silence of a quiet evening in the woods, or the calm of the sea on a windless day. It was nearly stifling how much noise was dampened in there, and not a single echo was heard. 

An attendant, a girl who couldn't have been much older than thirty, came to greet them with a bow of polite neutrality. This was a sacred place of knowledge, and hierarchy had no place there. "Greetings. What do you seek?"
Ridahne spoke first. "I'm looking for Azurei history, specifically anything pertaining to the history and development of ojih, ojih calligraphy, and any information or vision records you have of the establishment of new markings, past, present, or future." 
The girl nodded. "I will alert the Section Master. Would you like her to bring you selections in a private study? Or do you wish to browse the shelves yourself?"
"I would like recommendations from your Section Master, please. If my apprentice desires a room and would like to share one with me, allow him to do so."
The girl bowed again. "Certainly. Your room will be on the second floor, number 56." She turned to Darin. "What do you seek?"