Standing tall among the crowded buildings of the West End, the Lycaeum Library is imposing and serene. Somehow, the stepped entryway has a quelling effect on conversation- whether the effect is magical or psychological (or eerily, both) is uncertain. All that can be assured is that the place has a reputation for mystery- and the marble walls, cleanly polished to the point of phantasmal reflection, certainly add to the ambiance of such tales.
Although the broad entryway, with its widely tiered steps, is impressive- more impressive is the sheer size of the building. Three stories tall, but also long- and surrounded by a clutch of bare trees, seeming to grasp the building within their tangled grip. Regardless of season, leaves never grow upon the trees- but they have stood for long without being claimed by death.
There are rumors of underground archives- larger than even the upper stories- tales of ancient books of power, kept safe here from even the mighty reach of the Purificatio. Shadows have tread this earth- but so has the light. A place of utmost thought and contemplation, it is (more than any other building in the city) the domain of the magi, in all of their shapes and forms.
She had never been one to let men stand in her way, but this was not King's Court, and respect for women on a far lower scale than it had been in King's Court. Over the past few months little had been accomplished; all she had to show for her efforts was a damaged ego and paltry lodging in the Elf Quarter. And one more, important thing:
The ability to read.
Harmony had a mission here, staring at the austere building for a few minutes before sliding up the steps languidly, as if in a dream. She had never been in a library before, and the only book she had read was a philosophy text with which she disagreed vehemently, and that particular text had only been read because a careless... patron... had left in her custody.
However, sometimes The One was serendipitous, she supposed and this sudden knowledge of reading was going to be a launchpad to an entirely new world of potential. She wasn't going to learn of religion, or philosophy, or any of the normal topics which a woman might pursue at her leisure here. Instead, she was in search of something far more important- the thing which turned the gears of the world now.
Harmony wanted to learn about technology.
Her lips pursed expertly, dressed in her bess 'Highton' garb-- all in soft lilacs and blues, all extraordinarily inoffensive colors-- the woman slid the door open and walked within, her heart beating with excitement of a rather unusual variety. She was not excited about the prospect of 'learning' or 'bettering herself', but rather the potential that the knowledge within this place had for her.
After all, who would make a better potential spy than someone who was at least moderately familiar with the machinery and laws that governed the miracle of flight? Or made the other new miracles possible? The time was fast approaching when the economy would no longer be governed by horses and ropes and salt and coal... but rather by the exchange of this miraculous technology. The Mouth had a fair head start, and who was to say what the rest of the world would pay for a chance to catch up.
She'd walk toward the receptionist, if there was one, and smile warmly-- trying her best to imitate what a Highton Lady might sound like. She wasn't going to be one of those giggling and bubbling idiots who were merely a womb on legs, but rather one of the more intelligent Hightonites... not unlike the Lady Constanza, whose presence was doing something to change attitudes in the Mouth, or at least that's how Harm perceived it.
"Can you direct me to the sections on..." She feigned a struggle for the word, tracing patterns in her air as if seeking to remember the terminology. "... Magickal-Mechanical Technology and Applied Mechanics?" She smiled with self-praise and nodded firmly, lofting her eyebrows in expectation-- though whether of service or praise for her successful pronunciation would not immediately be clear.
Of course, her more-than-platonic relations with several of the men who worked at the Nashorn had given her some opportunity for after-sex talk. It's amazing what men would say after they'd unleashed their... tension. Especially for a woman as attentive as Harmony had learned to become. The things men would say when they were being handled were most remarkable, especially when prompted by such commentary as "Tell me more about your work... it sounds fascinating..." or "Nothings gets me going like an intelligent man talking about what he does...".
If the person behind the receptionist's desk was a man, of course, she would stumble a bit more over the words, twirl her hair nervously, and might even add an embarassed whisper of "... sorry, it's for my husband...". Harmony tended to have a knack for how to manipulate people, especially of the male variety.
"Also, where might the primers for the common tongue be found? I'll be requiring such a guide for one my daughters. No such thing as starting to early, you know..." a soft laugh, then, not the laugh of a bimbo, but certainly one that might be expected of a socialite with more-than-her-share of wit.