[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

[stilljustandrew]

"L-space, probably." Resigned. "How long can your shield hold them off?"

[semicharmed]

Matt glances ceilingward like he's trying to remember the capital of Nebraska.

"The way they keep coming at it? Uhh, factoring no food or," pause, "anything ... couple hours, maybe up to six?"

[stilljustandrew]

He gnaws his lip. "So trying to wait them out is not best strategy ... I think we better try and find another way out."

[semicharmed]

Matt nods, as the swarm makes another charge at the shield; he winces upon impact, though at the noise rather than any magical strain.

"Agreed. Though your guess is as good as mine what that way would be."

[stilljustandrew]

"The door was definitely over there, right?" -- waving a hand at the neat, uncommunicative row of bookshelves that's there now.

[semicharmed]

Matt frowns.

"I thought so, anyway."

[stilljustandrew]

"... Let me try something," he says, a bit diffidently, and starts in the direction of the newly appeared bookcases.

[semicharmed]

"Yeah," Matt murmurs, tripping along after him.

Whatever's going on here, it's got fascinating implications about the nature of space-time around here.

Which is sort of cold comfort, but, you know. Sometimes when you're being pursued by a cloud of winged aggressors, you have to make your own fun.

[stilljustandrew]

He extends a hand as they reach the bookcase, runs it along the spines of the books at eye level. Closes his eyes, and tries it again.

Deflates visibly.

"I was hoping it might be just an illusion tossed in our line of sight," he sighs, "but no, it's real." By way of illustration, he raps two knuckles against the wooden shelf.

[semicharmed]

Matt's lips twitch down.

"Should we just keep walking?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Might be the best plan."

He looks back over his shoulder at the swarm, which is hovering a slight distance away; three or four of the creatures hover closer, making intermittent stabs at the shield.

[semicharmed]

And, with a sigh, Matt starts to walk.

"What do you think the odds are that one of these books will tell us exactly what these guys are and how to send them back where they came from?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Never ask me the odds," says Andrew promptly, if slightly disconsolately. "The cataloguing system in this place is either nonexistent or way too complex to grasp."

Beat.

"I mean, the odds of one of these books having the right information is one thing, but the odds of us finding that one book ..."

[semicharmed]

"Thaaaat's quite possibly what I was afraid of."

He glances bleakly around the entirely new-looking corridor of books. Normally he finds the Milliways library fascinating, even given the terrible demon-influenced experiences he's had up here, but normally he doesn't have quite this sense of urgency bearing down on him. Nor does he have assailants literally bearing down on him.

Okay, now is not the time to get claustrophobic.

[stilljustandrew]

"You know what, though," he says, "it couldn't hurt to look. While we're trying to find the way out. Maybe we'll hit something useful."

[semicharmed]

Matt looks to Andrew, brightening in a slightly guilty way.

(Don't let this place get to you, Jamison.)

"At the very least, we can keep entertained."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew glances back, and gives a crooked half-scared grin. "Good, 'cause I'd hate to be doomed and bored."

[semicharmed]

"I won't lie," Matt says, his own smile widening a tick, "although I strive not to be boring, but I feel a lot better with a multiversal library backing me up."

[stilljustandrew]

"I'll take the books on this side," he offers, "you take that side?"

[semicharmed]

Matt nods.

"Shield'll stretch that far, no problem."

Reading, it turns out, is a pleasant distraction, even when the first few books Matt pulls are about the history of tentacle-styling among a variety of alien races. He almost manages to ignore the sound of tiny weapons pinging against the edge of the shield.

[stilljustandrew]

"I think this one's a cookbook," says Andrew, a little blankly. "... and a romance novel."

It goes back on the shelf; another comes off.

"Oh, cool!"

[semicharmed]

Matt, who finds romance-novel cookbooks highly relevant to his interests, looks up from his current tentacle-adjacent book curiously.

"Hmm?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh, uh --" Slightly sheepish: "Cool but not really useful under the circumstances. It's a book of post-Reformation Vulcan epic poetry."

[semicharmed]

Thank God or whoever, finally a reference Matt gets.

"Wait," he says, "the race of aliens, or the Roman deity of the forge?"

[stilljustandrew]

"The race of aliens," Andrew says, with an unspoken and points for asking. "I've wanted to read this stuff for ages, I've never been able to figure out how you can even write epic poetry in the form of serial syllogisms."