You walk towards the door, having heard legends of what lies beyond. A recluse, one who spends much of her time inside this very room, taking in as much information as she possibly can. You don’t know how many of the legends are true—that she is a great monster with eyes that see all, she has incinerated entire armies, she is incapable of death, created by a god, and so many other stories. You don’t know about her, and that’s why you’re here.
You wished to know more, and the nice people directed you toward this door at the end of some obscure hallway inside the Library. You pretended not to hear their whispers as you left.
The door itself is simple, made of a darkened wood with a single brass knocker. No handle that you can see.
You pick up the ring on the door, and let it fall. The door creaks open silently.
It’s a smaller room, rectangular in shape, with no roof in sight. Instead, the walls seem to go up forever, most of them taken up by bookshelves. The shelves further up are coated with moss, which stays away from the books themselves.
The floor is taken up on the left by a large desk, with papers piled messily and in a strange juxtaposition, a computer setup. Top of the line, multiple monitors, the works. This person must truly be terminally online.
Curled up sleeping on one of the lower shelves is a small pink fox, tail fluttering and paws racing. She’s probably chasing something in her dreams. You should stay silent and leave her be.
Where do you go first, the papers or the computer?