Anastasia had long ago forfeited any measure of hope that she may actually find what she desired in this collection of mildew and dust they had the audacity to call a library. Time had certainly changed the literary world as it did most things, morphed it into a lesser version of what it once had been. Where once only the finest literary works had roused the imagination of the discerning reader now there existed only juvenile tales of pubescent warlocks and shallow tellings of love unrequited to entertain the dullards of this new age. It was quite the abomination to someone who had lived as long as she, whose noble upbringing had afforded her the finest education and seemingly endless resources to the world's most sought-after literature. And now... she traipsed about the dust-caked rows (few though they were) of Sacrosanct's local library in search of a thing she knew full well that she would not find.

She does not immediately turn when she is addressed by the young woman from the cafe, though an admittedly devilish simper begins to sprout upon her lips before she promptly stymies it in favor of her characteristic austere facade. Slowly does she turn upon polished heels to face Alexander's friend. It was a lie, this she knew, though it amused her in quite the impish manner that her creator thought it suitable to falsify the true nature of his relationship to the petite brunette. How disparaging that must have been for the young Alexis...

"Alexis," she purred, hardly bothering to whisper despite the elderly librarian's pointed glare in their direction. "It is such a pleasure to see you again. Though I do hope you're having better luck than I at finding what you are looking for in this... place." The derision is evident in the syllables as they leave her foreign tongue, sage eyes drawing to the book her counterpart had just replaced. "Ah, a fair choice to be sure," she offered, "but if Greek history is your yearning, might I recommend this." The Duchess reaches for a the dull, weathered, and care-worn spine of a similar volume though one that offered a far greater breadth for the avid historian. "I read it in my youth, it will not disappoint." At this does the pair receive a stern shushing from the age-softened proprietor, as appallingly dusty as the books she peddles, though quickly does the woman return to her perch as Anastasia's authoritarian gaze cuts a harsh line to her. It was a glare that she had practiced to perfection throughout her youth, the facade itself so remarkably like her father's that the resemblance would have been decidedly eerie.

The expression softens ever so slightly as her eyes return to Alexis. "Now, if that's all you will be needing I suggest that we take our leave before we succomb to whatever is floating about in here." It is far less a request than it is an expertly-delivered command of sorts, the Russian woman moving aside to usher the Were onwards. "Have you decided yet what you will be wearing on your date with Alexander?"

Anastasia Romanova

Grand Duchess of Imperial Russia