driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Krista & YOU
Broadcast: Video!
Action: For all library visitors!
When: NOW?

[the fleet's resident, soft-spoken teen goth shows up on screen... backed by several bookcases filled with books! and maybe a couch back there. she waves, awkwardly.]

Uh, hey guys. Good news, the Bishop's library actually made it through the whole space-fight thing pretty well. The electronic tracking system is still down, but that's why people invented pencils and stuff.

[she gives the camera a funny look.] --No, actually, I'm pretty sure it's... the other way around. ... So nevermind.

[she holds up a very... charred-looking book. it had a red cover, once.]

The bad news is that "The Romantic History of the Galactiplastic Sector 9" totally bit it. So, uh. If there was a waiting list, we're gonna have to put this one on hold for a while. Alternatively, if anyone would like to play a little funeral tune, now's the time.

[she just. drops it flat on the floor. it's dead to her.]

So, um, for everyone who doesn't know... Me and a bunch of other people around here have been putting together a little library in the spare room on the Bishop... The ship's still kind of a mess from the fight, but anyone's welcome to come in and read or check out books, or whatever. We take donations and basically whatever stuff people bring us.

And we've got beanbags. And little lights that go "wowowo..." [accompanied with a little finger-wiggle and a totally straight face.] So if you're into that. This might be your jam.

---

[alternatively, if anyone comes to visit the library--it's a personnel room that's been outfitted with lots of bookcases, a couch, a table covered in archival materials, and several beanbags that you can drag around and sit in...

the collection is still small, but there's a little something for everybody! fiction, nonfiction, history, magic, charts, maps, comic books, whatever. Krista's around, probably putting books back on a shelf.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She grins.]

I would have. Once.

[When she was little and liked casting whatever spell she could get her hands on. Good times.

She touches the energy and it feels so strange to her. It's power, that she can tell, all the way down to her bones. She takes her hand away. She's probably going to get an annoying dream about this later tonight.]

That's incredible. And you say there are things that live off this?

[That phrasing-- things-- makes his expression flicker for a moment. He closes his palm around the magic and absorbs it again.]

Not just things. People, elves, like myself. Magical creatures, like dragons and mana wyrms.

[Oh but she catches it. And immediately looks regretful.]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I've never met anything that actually lived off magic in my world.

[His ears flatten.]

You haven't offended me. I... it's complicated. Most people don't understand, so they find it repulsive.

[He turns away a bit and plays with the hem of his robes, looking downward.]

I am not proud of the things I have done to survive.

[She reaches out, lays a hand over the one that's fiddling with the hem of his robes.]

Me neither. But sometimes we have very little choice, and those options are usually bad or worse.

[His hand stills. Touch is not-- a thing, for him. Except for his sister, who is dead. But he doesn't exactly... not want it, either. It's hardwired into his brain by now. So he is frozen, not because he is angry, but because he is vaguely terrified.

He could tell her, right now. He could tell her everything. But he doesn't, he can't. Something entirely unrelated pops out instead.]

Are you always so kind to everyone you meet?

[She leaves her hand there, even though she can see something is going on in his head about it. If he moves his hand away, or asks her not to, she'll respect that, but something tells her that maybe he could use a little unsolicited kindness.]

I try, if they let me be.

[He lets it linger, though he doesn't look at her hand, opting to close his eyes instead. His fingers curl around hers slightly though it's not sure if it's on purpose or just instinctive.]

... My name is Belthazar.

Mine's Syeira. It's nice to meet you, Belthazar.

[She feels his fingers close around hers and says nothing about it. Sometimes it's best not to push.]