Luck would be on Scherzo's side with his coming to Rhy'Din. Invitations found, and accepted. Sporting long coats, top hats, and a myriad of odd accessories, the dark half of the trickster twins set off.

Vibrant and intense, the yellow gaze was, perusing over the outer walls of the dark edifice before him, studying intently, before making any further decisions.

Then, a click and clack of dull dress shoes moving against hard ground issued, a familiar sound, one that was often heard assaulting the pleasant murmur of the city and its citizens, with the joyful company of the trickster coming in its wake.

Scherzo was a trickster of a different sort; of angry men and hurt women, in and out, the troubles that so overwhelmed the good, of the dark thoughts that forever plague the minds of humanity, the famine that taunts the poor, and the gluttony that fattens the nobles.

The dark feeling of such a library was not lost on the man, so attuned to the decay of the world, if anything, such an awareness only sparked his usually dismissive interest all the more.

Imagine, if you will, walking into a city full of both joy and pain, strife and pleasure, to have the scavenger birds dropping cards into your hand. Who wouldn't take such an invitation?

The card in his hat, was hidden behind a second one, the invitation, the card dropped by the birds, it seemed to best place to put it.

Fingers were long and nimble, dexterous and precise, curling forward, inching along the great doors of the library, to give a gentle push. The creak that groaned in protest assaulted his keen ears, just as the scent of time's work hit his other senses. Decay; so familiar.

Heard and noticed she was, but left alone, even after the offered words of greeting as the Trickster continued inside, passing the threshold of dark doors to let them close behind him.

Eyes were heavily lidded, a look of dismissive and bored indifference portrayed on the porcelain white of his face. One hand had fingers curled into slim fitting trousers' pocket, the other pulling in an absent minded manner on a small chain that hung randomly from ever dark and intricate clothing.

It wasn't until after Scherzo had given the immediate area a sweeping inspection of a purely visual level, that the other was acknowledged.

"Nothing," he drawled, so apparently uninterested in everything. "Where am I?" he knew the name of the building, but he knew not its purpose, and had little knowledge of the area in general. New.

It wasn't until the question was asked, that he offered the woman the inspection he'd given the room. Eyes set on her, bright with the yellow intensity of the sun, all that sense of indifference and disinterest disappearing with the sight of such an alert gaze.

Up and down, once then twice, he looked what he could see of her, over. "You're the proprietor?"

"Lucertola, find," he commanded. In response, one of his vest's many pockets opened up, and a small lizard poked its head out, blinking slowly at the woman, who was new to the tiny critter. Then it crawled up, and hopped onto the ground, to scuttle off in a random direction.

"Reminds me of home," he mused, which was a rather false statement. Home was a place of white and grays, test tubes and chambers, experiments and calculation, biological warfare. No, this place very much touched his own sense of being, held a remarkable resemblance to the inner workings of his mind.

"Lizard lizard, was lost in a blizzard, blizzards kill, little lizards, but this little lizard, walked into the blizzard, protected, as if by a wizard," often, he'd break into rhymes, often pointless, badly composed, and nonsensical.

As he waited for the critter's return, fingers curled inward and outward, skin stretched taught over skeletal digits, emaciated he seemed, underfed for many years, like a caged and starved pet just recently set free. The only difference between him and such a creature, was that he wasn't eating anyone.

Finally, after moments of waiting, the little lizard returned, scuttling along toward it's master.

"Come come little lizard, run run, fast, like sister, careful should mister find you, and trickster bind you, for with you rests, sister's mister," by the time he'd finished, the lizard had crawled back up his leg, perched on his shoulder, and seemed to whisper into his ear.

A thoughtful purse of lips signaled the departure of whatever odd sense of glee he'd felt at discovering the place, eyes were again heavily lidded with conveyed disinterest. "Rest well little lizard, I'll protect you from that wizard," he murmured to the lizard, whom crawled back into the pocket on his vest, and disappeared from sight.

"Lucertola cannot find it," he said aloud, as if she'd know exactly what he was talking about.

"No," was the simple answer as he continued forward, walking toward nothing in particular as his eyes perused the many things open to sight.

"Well...nothing that you have, the masters, they have no works here, the creators haven't come. My brother doesn't know of this place, he's not left his mark, you don't have him," he assured himself, rather than informed her.

"But," he paused, turning those sunlit orbs to her. "I'm sure you have something worth finding here," as he turned once again, drawing his sweeping gaze about the chamber.

"Trickster Trickster, he's looking for Mister, the Mister who created, the twin Tricksters. Trickster Trickster, followed his Mister, and Mister told Trickster, to kill, his favorite Sister," he rambled on as he came to a halt, head canted to the side in a manner mirroring that of a curious cat.

"High and low, dark and cold, the world runs beneath me. The lies the strife, the hate of life; Tricksters are born, Tricksters are sworn, living and dying, fighting and crying. They know no freedom, dream of no peace, serve to the end, to give the master's, their Piece."

"We are Scherzo Giullare and Lucertola," he informed the woman as he stopped, and snapped that sunlit gaze over to her, that feigned disinterest gone in the brief moment. "We are looking for my brother, you do not have him," he stated, rather than asked.

"This place, it has secrets," again, a statement, more than a question. "I need them, to find him, it must be done," he wouldn't say why he needed to find his brother, he didn't know. He just, had to, had something urging him onward.

"He's taken the trickster path, that I cannot follow, I have to find him, we must meet," like a broken record, he continued to rant about his search.