1stwitness | (no subject)

"...apparently some things never change, even in the distant future."

She laughs under her breath.

"You'd think this place would have librarians, wouldn't you?"

"But who in the world could ever keep up with such a task?"

"Someone with a fleet of minions who need neither food nor sleep."

She taps the shelf again, and it's obvious, she has to tear herself away.

"Right, moving on. We're on a mission, and must not be deterred."

"I can see why you've had a problem in the past", he says, eyeing the contents of the shelves. "Everything here is quite fascinating."

"It's more than anyone could read in a single lifetime. Which makes my eye twitch, frankly."

"Multiple lifetimes, I should think." He peers ahead of them. "Is it growing lighter up there?"

She squints, glancing behind them and then back forward.

"I can't tell. Maybe? No, I think you're right."

"I am not sure if that means we are reaching the end or... something else."

"Only one way to find out."

She grins at him, and heads toward the light.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me."

Ichabod hurries to catch up, then stops dead.

"...well, at least we are not lost."

They've emerged back at the hub, seemingly from the east.

A laugh bubbles up in her chest. "No...? But, if this happens when we go back that way, how will we find where we came in?"

"Perhaps when that is our intent, the library will allow it", he suggests. "As we were not attempting to leave that time."

She puts her hands on her hips, spinning slowly on her heel.

"Perhaps."

She certainly hopes he's right.

"If not... well, we will not be bored."

"True, enough."

She looks back to him.

"Your turn to pick. Which way?"

He glances around and points to an aisle, largely at random.

"That one."

She chuckles under her breath and dips a low, courtly bow.

"Lead on, Mac Duff."

"Lay on", Ichabod says with a grin over his shoulder her, already heading towards the aisle he picked.

She follows behind, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh Ichabod."

This aisle has rows and rows of red clay tablets. She pulls out one drawer to look.

"This is cuneiform, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is", he says confidently, "but while I can recognize it, reading it is another matter. I don't suppose you studied ancient history during your time at Oxford?"

"I studied it," she singsongs, sliding the tray back in.

"I can't read it. But I'd be willing to bet the bar has something that would allow us to read it. We'll have to ask when we get back."

"Some sort of translation key", he agrees, brightening. "Assuming we can find them again, but if we try..."

"Oh yes, once we figure this place out, we'll be fine. I mean, it's a library. There must be some sort of order to the place. We just have to figure it out. Shall we keep going?"

"I think we should." He's digging around in his pockets. "I have some paper. Do you have a pencil?"