[Open] A Serenade for the Semi-sentient
Giles frankly wasn't certain that there was any real mind behind the bookshelf, or method to its madness. He wasn't the sort of man that usually talked to inanimate objects. But this -- this was different. He had felt that he'd formed some kind of rapport with it, and he certainly wasn't going to do something to jeopardise that.
So when he needed a quiet place to learn a new song or two on his guitar, he'd retreat into the compound and settle near the shelf, picking out tunes that, if he could help it, had a little bit of literary merit.
"When logic and proportion // have fallen sloppy dead," he sang, low and slow and with a very deliberate edge of sorrow, "And the white knight is talking backwards // And the Red Queen's off with her head," He glanced up at the people who came and went from the room, not minding in the slightest if they gave him an odd look.
"Remember what the dormouse said // Feed your head // Feed your head..." He tilted his head slightly to look at the shelf. "There are worse tributes, I should think, to nonsense."
So when he needed a quiet place to learn a new song or two on his guitar, he'd retreat into the compound and settle near the shelf, picking out tunes that, if he could help it, had a little bit of literary merit.
"When logic and proportion // have fallen sloppy dead," he sang, low and slow and with a very deliberate edge of sorrow, "And the white knight is talking backwards // And the Red Queen's off with her head," He glanced up at the people who came and went from the room, not minding in the slightest if they gave him an odd look.
"Remember what the dormouse said // Feed your head // Feed your head..." He tilted his head slightly to look at the shelf. "There are worse tributes, I should think, to nonsense."