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Autumn had crept upon him before he knew it. The leaves of gold and red had beckoned him out of the treasure trove of his collection. Where he had been spited. At first, the gesture had meant almost nothing to him, his balance robbed of him and nearly felling him to the cobbled street. He'd caught himself (what embarrassment he would have suffered had he not!) and merely turned to the aggressor for the apology that always came with such crass disregard. The man had, after all, hit him quite squarely with his elbow. Instead, however, what he received had been a condescending glower, the brute even having the nerve to tell him to watch where he was going! Him! As if it was his fault!

As the moments after became hours, became days, became a week so too did he wounded pride continue to fester. He'd nursed the grudge like a child, feeding it thought and scorn each and every time his musings had pattered around to the world beyond his front door. Until he had deigned that, yes, this insufferable man would be the target of a new hex he had read about and wanted to give an attempt at. Nothing that would outright harm the imbecile, mind, just something that would be a thorn in his side, just as he'd been.

His eyes had wandered over the pages of his tome, his ingredients gathered with care. The procedure itself was draining and if he was not from the waters himself, he'd likely found the list to procure disgusting. However, now that it all lay neatly upon his table, he could begin. The end result if he did everything correctly, would be a discerning scent of fish to constantly cling to the man, no matter what action he may take to cleanse it. It was also meant to be a beacon for felines to follow. He held no distinct love for cats, but he was sure the constant baying and yowling outside the window would certainly put him mad.

It seemed, however, that the fates had something else in store for him. The hex itself seemed to be completed, but there were some.... side effects. Ones he would lament with irritation as the books nearby had suddenly sprung to life around him. Their pages unwound, forming legs, tails and cat-shaped heads of origami. They leaped from their shelves, some springing to the banister of the second level, others bounding to the tables, the reading booths. Their mewling was accompanied by the soft rustle of paper. He ran a hand down his face in exasperation, mentally chiding himself and wondering what it was that he had done wrong. Had he used too much cat hair?

The door opening not only drew his focus, but those of the newly rambunctious books as well. Rising swiftly from his chair, he barely made it to the side leaning down into the foyer of the library. Several of the tomes had done the same, clearing the distance to land (quite neatly he must add, and he would have been impressed were he not so stressed about them escaping) upon the dark floor boards, racing towards the portal. "Shut the damn door!" He cried, a hand clutching the binding of one mid-leap, snapping it to his chest. "Don't let them out!"