[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]

"I could run a scan," Matt says hesitantly. "It could tell us whether there's hostile energy here ... though Milliways in general is kind of oversaturated with energy even at the best of times."

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew gives him a swift glance. "How would that leave you energy-wise, though?"

[semicharmed]

"Barely affected," Matt assures him, this time without prevarication.

"It doesn't take a lot of energy, it's more a perspective."

[stilljustandrew]

"Okay," he says, "that's probably a good idea then ... do you need me to do anything? Or not do anything?"

[semicharmed]

Pause.

"Do you happen to have any food on you?"

[stilljustandrew]

Beat, and a blink, and he starts digging into a pocket. "I might, hang on ... how do you feel about peanut butter granola bars?"

[semicharmed]

"Extremely positively," Matt says, peering with gratitude.

[stilljustandrew]

He comes up with aforementioned granola bar, and holds it out to Matt with a wholly unnecessary flourish.

[semicharmed]

The flourish makes him smile. Matt takes the bar and stows his phone for easier unwrapping.

"My hero," he pronounces, mouth full. "I'll get this spell going in a sec."

[stilljustandrew]

He's a little ridiculously pleased at my hero, for some reason.

"That's gonna be my new superhero identity. Captain Granola."

[semicharmed]

"It's got potential," Matt informs him crumbily. A few moments later (he doesn't know how long to trust that door against that swarm), he looks towards the staircase, shuts his eyes, and breathes.

(hail, thou lotus)


Matt opens his eyes and peers intently.

"I ... think it's okay," he says to Andrew. "It seems-- take it with a grain of salt, but neutral-to-benign."

[stilljustandrew]

"Works for me," he says. "Definitely an improvement over things right here. Let's see what's down there?"

[semicharmed]

Matt boldly sallies forth in the direction of the staircase, which is sturdy and softly carpeted and (still) lined on one side by bookshelves.

The other side shows a long drop, at the bottom of which are more bookshelves. They're arranged in a strange, unintuitive way, almost like a--

"Oh, no," Matt groans as they descend.

[stilljustandrew]

"It's a maze," Andrew says flatly. "Like a literal actual labyrinth, in the library, whose idea was that?"

[semicharmed]

Matt throws up a hand, more an irritated wave than anything else.

"You know ... I love the library so much, but I have the worst luck in this place."

[stilljustandrew]

"... worst luck like this isn't the first time?"

He's peering out over the maze, trying to see if he can solve it from their limited overhead view, but the angle's too shallow; he can't trace more than a few turns away from the bottom of the steps.

[semicharmed]

Matt smiles, faint.

"Kind of a long story." Absently, his hand rises to trace the thin scar on his left cheek. "One I am happy to tell once the danger's been solved? Or resolved, whatever."

[stilljustandrew]

The scar-touching isn't entirely lost on Andrew, but neither is the very firmly implied later.

"Right," he says. "When we're somewhere safe. Possibly over drinks and/or ice cream."

There seems to be light from some uncertain source down here; he shuts off his phone-flashlight and stuffs it back in a pocket. "Do we try the always-turn-left thing, or what?"

[semicharmed]

"Alcoholic ice cream sounds pretty good ..."

Matt considers what he can see of the maze below.

"Hm. Well-- not sure if this is misplaced optimism, but maybe we should? I mean, if the library's trying to help us, maybe we'll find the right way regardless."

[stilljustandrew]

"And if not, that's supposed to be a good rule for gettting out of mazes anyway, so ..."

He glances back up the stairwell, then steps into the maze of bookshelves.

[semicharmed]

Matt comes along, casting the occasional glance to the shelves around them.

(He's quietly trying to gauge his energy level. He thinks he feels slightly better, but he continues to be surprised by how much he wants a nap.)

[stilljustandrew]

Left, and straight for a ways, and right when no left turn presents itself, and then left again.

The books on the shelves they're passing are wildly varied, heavy leatherbound tomes next to cheap paperbacks next to glossy magazine compilations.

[semicharmed]

There's a vaguely ticklish feeling at the back of Matt's neck.

It's not the books around them, he doesn't think (not even the one with wicked spikes sticking out from the spine), and it's not a magical premonition per se; it's more than his attention keeps flickering uneasily back the way they came.

How long does it take dozens of tiny, stabby swords to get past a locked door?


His feeling of foreboding is compounded by the way their next left turn appears to conclude in a dead end.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's trying not to feel like the dead end is a bad omen; it's a maze, they're going to hit lots of dead ends before they get out of it, that's how mazes work.

"Okay," just a touch unsteadily, "so we turn back around and keep turning left."

[semicharmed]

"Sounds like a plan."

Matt smiles faintly.

"You know, this makes me feel good, actually," he remarks as he starts to retrace their steps. "Like, otherwise it might be too easy?"