.oo1 // All the knowledge in the world
[ You find yourself in a library. Not just any library but a massive one: wall to wall bookshelves, plush armchairs, mahogany floorboards and the entire thing lit with a warm flame that seems almost comforting. The kind that doesn't seem to give off a dangerous heat but perhaps the warmth that reminds one of home and hearth. The books on the shelves are quite anything you want them to be: catalogues, bestiaries, your diaries, anything you ever wished to read, wished to know or wished to find out.
Among these shelves and books in a man dressed in long deep blue robes, almost black as night. He paces, taking books off the shelves, and flipping through them, occasionally commenting on the side and seemingly talking to himself. But there are other books in his hands, these being used to fill empty spots in some shelves. He seems to be looking for something, or perhaps merely setting some books in order. For all you know, he could be doing both. At any rate, he is quite at home here, amongst the books, shelves and bare light. Again, the conversation resumes in a strange language perhaps alien to your ears. Upon one bookshelf is another figure that seems to be merely a shimmer in the air and he seems to be doing most the talking while the man in the robe nods and comments from time to time. However, in the middle of a sentence, he stops and turns. His voice seems low, barely heard and in a more familiar language. ]
Looks like we have company, Aids.
Ah?
[ And with that, the figure is gone and the other man is left amongst the books and firelight, holding a rather thick volume to his chest and clutching a staff with his other hand. ]
Among these shelves and books in a man dressed in long deep blue robes, almost black as night. He paces, taking books off the shelves, and flipping through them, occasionally commenting on the side and seemingly talking to himself. But there are other books in his hands, these being used to fill empty spots in some shelves. He seems to be looking for something, or perhaps merely setting some books in order. For all you know, he could be doing both. At any rate, he is quite at home here, amongst the books, shelves and bare light. Again, the conversation resumes in a strange language perhaps alien to your ears. Upon one bookshelf is another figure that seems to be merely a shimmer in the air and he seems to be doing most the talking while the man in the robe nods and comments from time to time. However, in the middle of a sentence, he stops and turns. His voice seems low, barely heard and in a more familiar language. ]
Looks like we have company, Aids.
Ah?
[ And with that, the figure is gone and the other man is left amongst the books and firelight, holding a rather thick volume to his chest and clutching a staff with his other hand. ]