Welcome to the Library

[werepuppyblack]

Who: Open Post
What: Opening Post
Where: All over the library and its grounds
Warnings: [to be edited if necessary]



Today the Great Library opens its doors to all Patrons, who have come from many of the stories and books all available on the shelves.

For this first visit, Patrons will be restricted to the Library and its grounds.

Fortunate, then, that these are impressive indeed - large gardens set up for all sorts of activities, woods surrounding the area and in the Library itself? Cafes, internet access, and the best weapons in the universe: books.

Do enjoy your first visit to the Library, Patron, and always remember the rules.

The Rules of the Library
1. Patrons cannot read further ahead in their own stories than the time they have arrived from. Any attempt to do so will result in being met with blank pages.This lack of information will also occur if trying to find out spoilers online.

2. Patrons cannot tell other Patrons how their story ends. Any attempt to do so will find the Patron unable to find the words to explain it.

3. All books must be shelved correctly.

4. Do Not Harm the Books

5. Do not interfere with the nature of Narrative Causality

Comments

[importuned]

And not mind so terribly the faults of others, I suppose?

[knowntohisfriends]

Reckon it plays it's part, yeah. Ain't met no one who has summat who finds it easy to change situations. Met plenty wiv nothin' who just... get on.

[He shrugs, that's really the best way he can think to explain it all]

[theprincesjester]

It can be helpful, yes

[ivegotmypride]

[Nancy looks down at the book, taking it into her free hand.]

What's this for, then?

[wellenough]

[It's understandable enough. It still bears pausing over, one hand tapping idly at the nearest spine of a book.]

D'you think people lose it? If they get too much?

[logomachist]

If you feel like learning something today. While the two of you walk.

[Maybe there are other works by Hugo to browse over, after all.]

[ivegotmypride]

Thank you.

[She moves to hand it back.] I can't pay for it.

[importuned]

[That pulls another soft sound from her lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Easier, for a moment, to duck herself again and pull up a slightly wilting blossom up.]

That, at least, I may work on for my own part.

[knowntohisfriends]

Maybe? Not seen that yet meself, so couldn't say.

[theprincesjester]

I wish you well of it.

[logomachist]

No need. [His chin juts up at the shelves absently.] You'll bring it back when you're done.

[wellenough]

Suppose-- here's hoping we can try a bit and not lose the touch.

[importuned]

And I you, my lord, on whatever's engaged you here.

[knowntohisfriends]

It's the best way to think on things the now, right.

[theprincesjester]

Thus far I am leisure bent.

[ivegotmypride]

Don't you need to pay to do that?

[lovetohim]

[She's so kind. So soft, still, when last he'd seen her hardened and wild-eyed from the world. It briefly earns some tears welling up in his eyes, though he tries to force them away.]

I shall-- do my best, for you.

[logomachist]

Only if you lose it.

[importuned]

[Of course his eyes are still soft and sorrowful. Of course his head is still heavy with the tears prickling his eyes.

Of course it's easy to tug with a gentle insistence to bring his head down to her shoulder. None of them were held often enough for the hurts they had all lived.]

Faramir | Ring of the Lords (canon point ~ Houses of Healing, to be BS'd as needed)

[whattheydefend]

[If Faramir but knew how things progressed at home, he could happily spend hours lost in this place with a good will. Or days, perhaps, even weeks. Never has he seen so many books in one place. Never has he imagined so many books existed in the world. Had he his choice he might have been a scholar instead of a soldier, and the promise of wisdom this place holds is a mighty temptation even for someone who feels his duties as keenly as he does.

That sense of duty pierces him. But there is no way home that anyone knows, not any knowledge of what brought them here. So he reads and explores and studies, hoping that perhaps one of these tomes might tell him.

He can be found all over the library, reading in the Stacks or wandering the woods and gardens, observing those around him when he is not reading himself. Also the 'cafe' serves a drink called chai, of which he becomes very fond.]

[bythewaves]

"Strange this is, to see one of Gondor's sons in such a place."

The voice comes from a window seat, where someone sits with a harp in his hands, watching Faramir with interest.

[importuned]

[There is, to her mind, something inherently comforting about the angle at which certain men held themselves. To glance at them, at the uprightness in their spine and the slope of their shoulders, a book or a sword as easily suggested itself to the mind contemplating the form. Laertes tended to hold himself just a hair too much in the fashion of the martial, and Horatio seemed always to have the faintest stoop of shoulders instinctively waiting to heft heavy tomes, and Hamlet--

Well. Hamlet was not her concern at the moment.

It isn't quite the angle of this man that brings Ophelia flitting toward him, however. In the faintly overwhelming bluster of the cafe, there are a handful of men whose dress puts her in mind of visiting diplomats from England, who stand just as straight and familiar as her brother does.

This one, though.]

I do not mean to intrude me, my lord, but what in the world have you got there?

[Whatever is in this particular man's cup smells divine, even after the luxury of wandering in such an expansive garden.]

84 years later....

[lithification]

"Are these-- part of the Moors, then?"

That'd be a little better, at least. It's not the Halls of the Dead, but it seemed as though the Moors might be a little more in sync than the world they'd been born into.

[lovetohim]

[It's a small comfort, but a helpful. He has to take some time to stay settled against her shoulder. To draw in a few deep breaths.]

--Thank you, my lady.

[importuned]

Of course, Horatio.

[This, surely, ought to be as natural as breathing.]