[being rewritten for the 1938473th time]
If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words.
Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans.
Suddenly, Y/n is l...
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yes, i feel sweet emotion every time you're near me every time you are near
•••••
TW: slight bodily harm, blood
Look, I didn't search for the book on prevalent families of Ninjago. It just jumped out at me from the library shelf. And I took it. Eagerly.
The librarian gave me the side-eye when I returned on Friday, only a day after checking out an ass load of books. I had returned with the ones I had devoured when I found myself unable to sleep after the encounter with the Green Ninja.
The books had kept me grounded throughout the night, and while I had bags under my eyes, at least I wasn't plagued by night terrors from being manhandled the way I was. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my mother about it.
A phantom tightening of the skin on my throat reminded me of the cool sharpness of the thug's blade. My body gave a delayed shudder in fear.
The book - namely the edition that logged all the known (yet unfortunately sparse) records on the first village settlements - hopefully had information on the Garmadon lineage and their part in establishing Ninjago. I had those sleep-avoidant questions again, and I needed answers. My unending curiosity was one of my biggest vices.
It sat heavy in my arms as I meandered my way down the library rows. The book was heavy and old, made of worn leather and aged buckles and yellow-edged pages, and so chock-full of information that it had me almost salivating at the thought of dipping my head into its knowledge.
This book had to have been older than my great-grandmother. Maybe even older than my great-great-grandmother.
The sun was hot, beating through the windows and dancing with the smell of paper and old, leather-bound books. I added a few more novels that had caught my eye and after checking them out, made my way home.
It was noon by the time I returned, once again teetering awkwardly with my volley of books. The name Garmadon kept ringing through my head - it sounded familiar but also so foreign; like it was part of a different section of the world, a different era, a different class.
"I wonder if his family's from one of the first nineteen houses?" I mused to myself as I set the heavy, old tome onto the desk before me.
The first nineteen houses was a speculative group of lineage dating back thousands of years to when society was first recorded. Some people even thought that the origins of these powerful houses went back to when humans were first born, or created, or however you want to think of it as; but this was largely regarded as myth.
