[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]

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?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh man," Andrew groans, "don't even say that."

Left turn. Straight on. Another left turn.

Another left turn, and another, almost immediately.

"... It could be I've lost count," he says warily, "but I feel like that last turn should have taken us perpendicular through the last aisle we were in."

[semicharmed]

"Sorry, sorry," Matt says hastily.

He pauses, standing in the middle of the row of books, and frowns.

"Oh wow," he realizes. "Uh. It ... should've."

Dammit, library!

[stilljustandrew]

Up ahead is another left turn. Which if he's counted right, should be going directly through two of the aisles they've already walked down.

"Might as well keep going," he mutters.



It's another dead end.

[semicharmed]

Matt sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, I guess we can try again--"


A sound distracts him, and he stops talking. Listens out.


Is that ... chattering?

[stilljustandrew]

And rustling. As of --

"Wings," Andrew breathes.

[semicharmed]

"... Shit."

Matt looks back the way they came (spoiler alert: still a dead end).

He glances the other way, to what may or may not be their original path. It's rapidly becoming a source of increasingly loud, increasingly familiar sounds, and Matt begins picturing a platonically perfect sphere; the edges of his psychic fingertips are digging into the first Sanskrit to come to mind.

"Okay, uh ... what do we--"

Before he can even finish asking, a cloud of the winged things comes into view. Matt mutters something under his breath.

The odds that it's a curse of some kind seem reasonably high, until an amber-tinted shield springs to cover them again.

[stilljustandrew]

"Shields," Andrew yelps just before the amber shimmer springs into view, and manages to swallow the words red alert! that want to follow.

He mutters "Frell," instead, in a tone of suppressed panic.

[semicharmed]

Well, the shield's back up, and tiny metal weapons are ping-ping-pinging against it. This is nicely nostalgic.

"We might be able to run through them?" Matt says. He's fine-- totally fine. He'll be fine.

He doesn't actually like the option he's just proposed, but what are they supposed to do? They have almost literally been backed into a corner.

[stilljustandrew]

"I don't know if I like those odds," he says, "but ..."

A pause. He looks around.

"This isn't another dead end," he says slowly. "This is the same dead end."

[semicharmed]

"What?"

[stilljustandrew]

"It's the same dead end we were in before, it's, I recognize these books --"

He's running fingers over the spines of the books at eye level, leaning in close to peer at the titles.

"If the library's really trying to help us, maybe one of these -- can you read and hold the shield at the same time?"

[semicharmed]

Matt regards Andrew, then the books, with a serious attention.

"Yeah," he says.

"I mean, I couldn't proofread or anything, but just reading--"

He steps closer to the shelf and starts scanning for a likely-looking spine.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew crouches, meanwhile, scanning along a lower shelf simultaneously.

A heavy volume with the single word FAERIE printed on its spine in gilded letters catches his attention; he tugs it out, with some effort, and lets it fall open on his lap.

[semicharmed]

Matt has a book in hand, with a third of his attention (approximately) on it, and the rest divided in negotiable percentages between maintaining the shield through the current onslaught and minding his energy levels.

(So far: good. But he's not sure how long that'll last.)

When he realizes his book is full of recipes that primarily involve unicorn meat, he nearly throws it back onto its spot on the shelf. That's just not right.

[stilljustandrew]

Kelpies -- no. Hobyahs -- no. Greenteeth -- no. Piskies --

Andrew's eyes widen, and he looks up from the illustration at the swarm outside the shield.

[semicharmed]

It's not that Matt is watching Andrew, or exceptionally attuned to his body language or anything, but he does notice the shift in his posture. Maybe it comes with the sex mage territory. Don't worry about it.

"Find something?"

[stilljustandrew]

"I think so --" He hefts the book up, carefully holding the place. "Does that drawing look like those little guys to you?"