1stwitness | (no subject)

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?"

She pats the back pockets of her jeans, and comes up empty.

"No, sorry. What are you up to?"

"I thought we could make a map."

His coat has very voluminous pockets. After a little more searching, a pencil stub appears too.

She raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Well, we entered from six o'clock on the hub, and we left it at twelve o'clock, only to emerge at three o'clock. Without making any turns."

"But", he says cheerfully, "we can mark the positions of the aisles and what is in them at this end. And perhaps it will be the same next time."

He likes maps, okay? They make sense.

She watches as he writes. "That sounds almost sensible."

Maps are incredibly sensible. She's just not used to Milliways behaving in a way that might be mistaken as sensible.

"I think we're leaving clay tablets and we're entering -- are these pictographs?"

"Indeed they are." He leans down and studies them. "...but I can't place the culture."

She rests a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll pack a picnic lunch next time. And bring string."

He glances up, laughing.

"Both seem very sensible precautions."

"Come on. If we're going to get this place mapped by dinner time, we can't stop and peer over every amazing thing we find."

"Plenty of time to come back to them later", Ichabod agrees, and adds another notation to his map. "Onwards."

She marks each of the pendant lamps they cross with a finger in the air, counting. Again, the illumination fades to something more appropriate for a monastery, not a modern library.

"You know, if the weather gets too terrible, I suppose I could just come run in here. It's not exactly an indoor track, but it would do in a pinch."

Ichabod eyes her.

"Running, in a library?"

"Well, yes. It's not as if we've run into anyone else in here. And I'd wear proper trainers, not my -- sorry, in my time, it's a type of exercise. And it comes with special shoes, and clothes, and such."

She does look a bit chagrined.

"It's better than running in the garage, with all the exhaust fumes."