1stwitness | (no subject)

"...what kind of Restricted Section has books like those? Did you know about this?"

He's a little reluctant to go anywhere near the books.

"Well, there were a series of books about a group of wizard children who went to a wizarding boarding school, called Hogwarts. I'd heard that there was some overlap between universes, that what was fiction in one universe was actually real in others, but I've only experienced it a few times."

She's approaching the books, fearless but cautious, nonetheless. One of them coughs and belches a lick of flame straight up.

"That must be Famous Fire-eaters. These are books of Dark Magic, ones that are too valuable to destroy, but that warrant being kept under lock and key. Literally."

"The words 'books of dark magic' and 'too valuable to destroy' do not go together in my world." He eyes them grimly. "If they belonged to me, I would burn them on the spot, never mind their age."

She glances up, one eyebrow raised.

"It's not just that they're historically valuable. In the world of Hogwarts, they're fighting a cadre of dark wizards, who call themselves Death Eaters. Sometimes you need to know what weapons your enemies are using against you. That way you can train and prepare to face them in battle."

"By learning to use those weapons against them in turn?" He shakes his head. "That way lies no good."

"No, I said no such thing. But it does pay to understand their strategies, and know what they have in their arsenal."

"Know your enemy. Isn't that what Sun Tzu said in the Art of War?"

"He did", Ichabod agrees, "although I doubt he was speaking of dark magic. That sort of thing has a tendency to corrupt."

"I would suspect you're right. But apparently, the librarians here don't agree."

She eyes the small reading area, and gestures to a clear path around the outer edge.

"We can get through there."

"And hope the chains hold", he says with dark humour. "I would assume they will, but..."

He'll be staying as far as possible from the books as they pass through.

"Oh, don't be such a pansy," she teases.

"Come on. I think there's a holographic section up ahead." She waits for him, and keeps her body between his and the books.

He notices, and appreciates it even it makes him feel guilty.

"...holographic?"

"Uh, right. It's a technology from my future. Coherent light, portraying actual recordings of people speaking or acting. Here."

She skims the shelves and pulls down a disc. "Hold it like this." She takes his hand and places it flat in his palm.

"Activate holo-recording."

A three-dimensional figure made of light appears on the disc, about six inches high. It's clearly not human, with long hair and beard, dark features with deep brow ridges, and a martial demeanor about him. The recitation has a certain lilt to it, as the figure holds forth, passionately, the voice low and gravelled.

"I've been told Shakespeare is better in the 'original Klingon', but I'm not sure I agree."

"...I assume that's a joke, but one I'm afraid is lost on me." He's staring at the figure. "That is a ... Klingon?"

"Yes," she grins at him.

"It's a quote from a film. And they," she indicates the figure expounding in his palm, "are from another planet. They appropriated the Bard, and claimed him as one of their own literary greats. It's really quite ridiculous."

"Well, it's a compliment to him, I suppose, that they esteemed him so highly as to want to claim him... if they were not fictional creations."

"Don't be so sure you know what's fictional and what's not, at least not here under this roof."

She turns back, skimming over the shelves again.

"You'd think the name Ichabod Crane would be unique, but -- in my world, I know of at least one other. He was a jittery, superstitious school master who was chased by the ghost of the Headless Horseman, who was most certainly someone playing a prank on him. And his mad pursuit happened more than a hundred years ago."

"You said they were from a film", he points out. "Which medium I have been introduced to, and as you have never mentioned before that extraterrestrials exist in your world..."

He's not sure what to make of the latter part, making a faintly disdainful face at the description.

"Oh they're fictional, all right. In my world."

She quirks an eyebrow at him, taking a few steps further down the aisle, silently urging him to join her.

"Are you trying to tell me that fictional characters - or what I would consider so - are among the patrons of Milliways?"

He follows, intrigued.

She shrugs, and gives him her best innocent look.

"Well? You never know with this place, do you?"

"It certainly does love to surprise us", he agrees wryly.

"That's one way to put it."

She may be thinking back to the fact that her significant other has two different incarnations running around, and only one of them really knows who she is.

She walks in silence for a bit, one hand reaching out occasionally to touch the shelf.

He falls into the mostly comfortable silence as well, trailing her footsteps.

"Has all been well with you, of late?"

"What?" She sounds surprised that he'd ask. "Oh, yes. I suppose."

She glances back to him, an apologetic smile on her face.

"I try not to think about it, but it catches me at odd moments."

"So it does", he returns, mirroring the smile with a touch of sadness. "I do know how that can go, indeed."