[pfsb] silence in the library

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew doesn't check out the Milliways library that often, but there are a few books that a patron left downstairs, and he's volunteered to return them.

The library door's pretty thick; it's designed to be. For better soundproofing.

There's no reason he should hear anything happening inside before he opens the door.

Comments

[semicharmed]

Unfortunately, there's a lot happening.

Most of the happening looks like it's clustered in one of the nearby stacks--just out of eyeshot, though a great deal of fluttering and chattering is audible.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew blinks.

"Hello?" he says, just slightly louder than is strictly polite inside a library.

[semicharmed]

The fluttering and chattering fails to abate. As Andrew moves towards the rows of books, perhaps he can see why:

One of the near aisles is filled with a swirling cloud of tiny winged things, gnashing their teeth and chittering at high volume; glints of metal shine wickedly in their tiny claws. The cloud's attention seems to be directed primarily at a transparent sphere, glowing with amber-tinted light.

Inside that sphere is an unhappy-looking Matt Jamison, whose expression goes from disgruntled to downright panicked upon catching sight of Andrew.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's expression is still on startled. "-- Matt?"

About a third of the tiny flying creatures -- still a good many of them -- sheer off the main mass and swarm toward Andrew, their tiny bright knives glinting.

[semicharmed]

"Andrew!"

It's pretty much instinct, with a jolt of oh God oh God no, that sends another sphere springing up-- around Andrew. Metallic scrapes sound as the flying things collide with the barrier.

Matt could jump for joy, but that might throw off his spell.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew flinches back -- a gesture that would have done him no good at all, he realizes after a moment, if it weren't for what's evidently a shield-spell.

He can still see Matt, if just barely, through the two shimmering shields and the swarming things between them. "Are you okay? What are these things?"

[semicharmed]

"That part I'm still working on," Matt calls. "They're corporeal, that much I know, and they seem to be talking to each other--"

Slowly, he edges towards Andrew, his own shield gliding along with him.

"I should recast these guys," he says with a grimace.

[stilljustandrew]

He tries moving in turn and then stops, not sure how much effort it's taking Matt to maintain the shields or if it'll cost him more effort to move two at once.

"They look kinda like ... if Guillermo del Toro designed Tinkerbell."

[semicharmed]

Matt scoots closer.

(It's mostly the concentration that gets him-- like juggling. Shield, shield, conversation. It's a couple balls in the air, but he's doing okay.

He just doesn't want to do it for too long.)

"Yeah, and they've got nasty temperaments," he says.

"Uh. What's your level of comfort with me dropping these shields so I can get one going for us both?"

[stilljustandrew]

Uh, says Andrew's face.

"Have you found out anything that can keep them off?"

[semicharmed]

"Aside from a shield?"

Pause.

"Nnnot yet."

[stilljustandrew]

"Okay," he says, "okay, gimme a sec."

Very carefully he bends down, sets the books he's holding in a neat pile on the floor, takes off his jacket, and stands with it held ready in both hands.

"Can you give me a countdown from three?"

[semicharmed]

"You got it."

It takes Matt a moment to work up the nerve to even start. Those things have tiny knives.

"Three," he says slowly, "two ... one ..."

He takes a deep breath, focusing on the brightness in his belly. The shields vanish, leaving them a split-second's unfettered view of the swarm.

Then, right as the creatures dive back for them, another sphere of amber light encircles them. To Matt, the itty bitty metal weapons scraping against the shield sound like ping, ping shhhhhing.


Unfortunately, it looks like one of the creatures made it into the shield with them.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew sweeps his jacket sharply across, held wide with both hands like a net. It fails to snag the little creature, but it does make it sheer off, chattering angrily.

He stands braced, jacket still held ready, trying to keep his eye on the thing.

[semicharmed]

"--Oh," Matt realizes, trying to edge away from it; unfortunately, he can't go that far, since the shield now has to cover them both.

The angry creature hesitates between them for a second, before diving for Matt with its tiny bladed weapon held aloft. Matt jumps, kicking out at the thing with his foot.

"This-- ow-- could've gone better!"

[stilljustandrew]

"Hang on --"

Andrew tries a different tack, snapping the jacket at the creature like a whip. He misses twice, but the third attempt catches the creature in mid-dive, knocking it across and into the shield's invisible wall.

[semicharmed]

MATT'S HERO.

At least the thing's not currently a) moving or b) stabbing his jeans with its ... whatever creepy weapon that even is.

"Thanks," Matt says, a little wide-eyed. "Um, I'll have to think about getting it out of here; the spell I used leans more on the physical-barrier side than the repelling-negative-influence side, but I might be able to swing it."

[stilljustandrew]

He bends down and gingerly gathers up the little body; it's limp but still breathing, and he's not sure how he feels about that.

"They look sort of like dragonfly wings," he murmurs, half-distracted. "And -- look at that, do those look like tattoos to you or do you think its skin is just patterned naturally?"

[semicharmed]

Matt peers (carefully).

"Huh," he says. "Tough to say ..."

He starts to dig around in the smallish satchel he's carrying over one shoulder, arm twisting awkwardly to get at it. He's going to need a few herbs at least to get this shield powered so it'll boot their little friend.

[stilljustandrew]

One of the wings twitches.

"Uh," says Andrew, and hurriedly winds the sleeve of his jacket around the creature to pin its limbs, in case it wakes up. (But carefully. He doesn't want to hurt it worse if he doesn't have to.)

Outside the shield, the swarm has redoubled its fury.

[semicharmed]

"Oh," Matt says pleasantly, evidently oblivious to the swarm. "Nice move."

He pulls a few plastic bags from his satchel and starts to combine the herbs therein (yarrow, basil) into one.

"This," he continues, "might work better if we touch. I'm gonna amp the shield to repel hostile energies."

[stilljustandrew]

"Okay," he says. "Like, hands, or ...?"

[semicharmed]

"Hands is great," Matt nods, stuffing bags back into his satchel. The combo baggie remains in his hand.

This, he reflects, may be where some of those 'Matt's a drug dealer' rumors came from in high school.

Matt pauses, glancing to the angry cloud of flying little dudes. Then, slowly, he reaches for Andrew's hand.

"After this, I vote we run."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah I'm in favor."

Keeping a grip on the imprisoned (and still unconscious) winged thing with one hand, Andrew puts the other hand out to meet Matt's.

[semicharmed]

The touch does not, Matt is happy to say, result in any awkward magical overshare (not that he thought it would or he'd have warned him). But it does feel nice-- bright, like holding hands under warm sunshine. Matt murmurs something under his breath: Sanskrit, by the sound of it.

And that same feeling of bright sun seems to fill the entire sphere.

The little creature pinned by the sleeve of Andrew's jacket starts to pull away, though it's still unconscious-- as if it's drifting on some tide taking it towards the edge of the shield.