wingedapostle: (Default)
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind ([personal profile] wingedapostle) wrote in [community profile] thechanged2013-09-15 08:06 pm

Papercuts Are Inevitable | The Library | Days 8-10 [OPEN]

[ooc: this search is going to take place over three in-game days (days 8, 9, and 10), so please state in the post subject which day you want to go for!]

Answers have come, but not enough. She's remembered two more things since she awoke: the poisonous forest surrounding the pure land, and herself preaching peace to a crowd of people. Neither memory gives answers regarding the other, which leads her to the library's fourth wing. If in her memories she cannot find answers to her questions – Who is she? Who were those people? Why is the forest purifying the world? Why that urgent plea for peace? – then perhaps she'll find them in books.

That is, if she can find any that she can read. She's been here before, more than once, but she has never found a book in a language that she could understand. The languages in the many books she's looked over have all been beautiful-looking, but that doesn't help much when she doesn't know what they say.

She picks a bookshelf at random, and slides a book out of its place. Its cover is colorful and ornate, but a look inside reminds her that she's likely not going to have much luck on this search, at least not anytime soon. She puts it back with a sigh and takes another one out. This is going to take a while.
ovidscholar: (ecclesiastes)

[personal profile] ovidscholar 2013-09-19 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"They're here," he says, "I'm sure of it. I think it stands to reason that given such a multitude of tongues, you'll find one you recognize."

When, he doesn't know. He cranes his neck and squints at the very top of the shelf before him.

"In fact," he murmurs. "In fact--"
ovidscholar: (daniel)

[personal profile] ovidscholar 2013-09-22 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
"Nothing yet, but I've had a thought," he says. "Rest your wings a little while."

He crouches at the bottom of the shelf. There's a drawer here. It's full of cards: playing cards, calling cards, business cards, nothing they'd recognize save tarot. This does not concern the librarian. He looks at the back of the cards; they bear numbers and titles, all in his elegant hand.

He slides the drawer out entirely, and kneeling, he offers it to her.
ovidscholar: (wisdom)

[personal profile] ovidscholar 2013-09-24 02:18 am (UTC)(link)
"They're places. Wings, shelves, rows," he says, his voice rising in pitch, "terrific, don't you think? It's not just idle servant's work, it's mine. It is my writing. Suppose I had the idea of my own?"

He smacks a card against his palm.

"And so: short work! We locate a title and then the shelf."
ovidscholar: (psalms)

[personal profile] ovidscholar 2013-09-30 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
"Unfortunately," he says, "unfortunately we still have work ahead. There is less climbing, though." He squints at a card full of glyphs he cannot read; did he really write this? "Now you know the thrilling life I lead."