1stwitness | (no subject)

"He only comes out at night - we believe sunlight weakens him - and you would be surprised what people can convince themselves they did not see."

"Sunlight, weakens the Horseman of Death? How strange."

There are pendant lights hanging from the ceiling at fairly regular intervals, and she glances up, mentally keeping track of how many they've passed.

"And I would be the last person to be surprised by that, actually. I spent three years convincing myself I wasn't dead. And I did a very good job of it, too. The mind is predisposed to seeing only the evidence which supports our own conclusions."

"Sunlight promotes life", he points out. "Perhaps it is anathema to him. Did you recall receiving the wound that killed you?"

She doesn't answer for a few long steps.

"Every day. Every time I fell asleep. Sometimes walking around in broad daylight. I could see the bullet spiralling towards my head in slow motion. I felt the impact, felt it push me over backwards. I could hear the medics that responded to the scene. I could hear the doctors working on me, trying to save my life."

"All the while, walking around, interacting with people I imagined were only constructs of my own mind."

Ichabod winces.

"That sounds really quite extraordinarily difficult."

She gives him a crooked grin. "Is it any wonder my colleagues thought I was mad as a bag of bees?"

She seems to have a sense of humour about it. Now.

"Not in the slightest. They, I presume, had forgotten more successfully?"

"Oh yes. I was the stubborn one. I refused to let it go."

They pass a bank of scrolls stacked in diamond shaped shelves, and she pulls one out to peer at it.

"I tend to be a bit of a bulldog when I get my teeth in something."

"Not a bad attribute", he says easily, "though no doubt others can sometimes disagree. What have you found there?"

"I'm not sure..."

She hold it up for him to examine.

"I don't read ancient Greek."

"I do." He smiles slightly and takes it from her. "A required part of education, when I was receiving it."

"Well? What's it say?"

"It says..." He scans it. "It appears to be... an account of a visit to the Library of Alexandria. Not one I'm familiar with, but so much from that time is lost outside of here."

She leans lightly against his shoulder, peering at the text with a wide-eyed look bordering on reverence.

"Bloody hell. The Library of Alexandria? Can you imagine?"

"If travel back and forth in time were possible, such as I have heard it spoken of mainly in fiction... that would be the first place I would like to see."

She laughs, and turns away, her gaze tracking over the remainder of the scrolls, marking them with greedy fingertips.

"That and a translation artifact, and I would be in academic heaven."

"And unlimited time for perusing its contents. Perhaps one day... copies of those lost books may have made their way here."

She turns back to him, one finger raised.

"You see? This is why I've never succeeded in finding the end of this place. I always get distracted."

"It is a great risk", he says, amused, and puts the scroll back where it was. "Onwards, then?"

"It's either that, or set up camp."

She continues along the aisle, slowing down as it gets a bit dimmer.

"Maybe we should have brought a torch?"

"Hm." He glances back. "I could go and fetch one? Of the safer kind, no open flames in such a place."

"Of course not."

She pauses, thinking about it. It's not that bad. It's just not the modern illumination she's used to.

"I'm fine to go on, if you are?"

"It is not overly dark", he agrees. "Let us go on, then."

She nods, agreeable. But she's hanging back to walk beside him, not walking ahead.

"I count fourteen lamps in." She points up.

"Agreed. And it seems for once, things are not moving around when they are not observed."