The Library of Ilearstadel (AndrewS x romancerper)

[romancerper]

The Library of Ilearstadel was thought to be mere legend.

It was a common one among the races. There were records of it across the globe, and many accounts had similar details. For one thing, it was common knowledge that this library was no ordinary library. Esteemed scholars, all long dead, had written their experiences, spoken of how any question could be answered if one only spent the time roaming its seemingly limitless halls. The secrets of life, recipes for forbidden potions, scrolls on the darkest of arts, cures to the worst of illnesses could all be found in the Library of Ilearstadel.

There were songs written about the fabled place. Volumes of poetry, attempting to put the structure's beauty into words. Even the Great Sorcerer Orphic, who had been known to converse with the gods on occasion, was quoted saying, "It was Heaven's gift to the races."

There was a general consensus that the structure was massive, carved entirely from limestone and decorated with marble statuary. It's thick, stone walls were tall enough to house the largest and oldest of trees, curving into cavernous ceilings. Almost all windows and doorways were open arches, allowing the free movement of fresh air and unfiltered sunlight. Surrounding and stretching within the library was said to be a labyrinth of gardens and courtyards, all green and vibrant. Waterways followed in a similar pattern, supplying natural pools, lakes and ponds.

In some texts, the library was depicted as something akin to a small, self-sustaining city, maintained and inhabited by the long-gone Ilearian race.

Regardless of what the true story was, not one person could answer the age old question: what had happened to it?

Oh. There were many theories, some borderline ridiculous. One human text described something akin to the apocalypse, an end only contained to the library, while another stated that the Ilearians had incurred the wrath of one of the gods. The Elves believed that it had crumbled into dust while the Dwarves believed the library had always been underground, destroyed by an earthquake.

Then, there were some, who still believed in the library's existence, that it still remained somewhere, hidden, full to the brim with the secrets and answers many still coveted. But to find it would mean returning to its original location, and such coordinates had been lost to time.

Still, many had tried to locate the lost Library of Ilearstadel. Thus far, none had succeeded and lived to tell the tale.

---

Lyra sat beneath the thick canopy of her favorite tree in the entire library. It also happened to be the largest and oldest, according to Volume IV of the "Personal History of the Library of Ilearstadel". She was only a few hundred pages in, learning about the layout of her home, as she casually munched on a few pink grapes she had found in one of the other courtyards. Her one leg was resting casually atop the other's knee, her bare foot slowly swaying back and forth as she turned another page and popped another mini star-shaped fruit into her mouth.

A faded, yet detailed, map spread across the two pieces of parchment. According to the Ilearian text, this was just the first floor of the library minus the Northern Wing. Lyra wasn't surprised to find that it couldn't fit on two pages. If the author of this book had tried to do such a thing, the letters would be too small, therefore, making it far too difficult to read without a magnifying glass. Her tree was here, though, and the courtyard it grew in was appropriately labeled "The Heart" as it was the center of the structure.

After examining the map for a bit longer, she turned the page, expecting to see more about this particular location, as that was where the text had left off prior to the drawn picture, but Lyra was shocked to find that the topic had changed completely. It now was discussing what lay north, starting a new sentence when she had been in the middle of one two pages ago.

Lyra's brow furrowed as she straightened from her lounging position to being seated upright against the tree's massive roots. Using her right hand, she swiftly turned back a sheet, then another, to check herself. Had she been wrong? No. The page before the map had ended with an incomplete sentence, but when she went back to the page just after the map, a new sentence began.

Hazel eyes immediately jumped from the top of the parchment to the bottom, seeking out its page number.

"Why is a whole page missing?" She whispered to herself as she brought the book closer to her face, gaze narrowing. She studied the binding closer, looking for any remnant pieces of paper that might suggest that something had been torn out, but there weren't any.

That page is lost.

The voice that filled her head and cleared it, momentarily, of any thought was one Lyra knew well. Always calm. Always familiar. It belonged to her only companion in this beautiful place—well, not her only companion, but definitely the only one able to communicate with her.

"Really?" She spoke aloud, lowering the text into her lap. "But how? And why?"

In all her many years inhabiting this library and within all the covers she had spent time between, the young woman had never seen a book with a missing page.

I believe it to be the work of one of your predecessors.

"And you approved?"

I was unaware it was happening at the time.

The statement struck Lyra as odd. Typically, the library knew everything that was happening within and around its walls, and while it was not, in any way, connected to the items that lined its stone shelves, this series of volumes was about it. She thought it would have likely been more vigilant about what happened to them.

As much as you may think you know about me and this place, Lyra, there is still much you don't.

And that, beyond her duty as a Librarian, was the only thing that kept her from acknowledging just how monotonous her life was. Every day was the same. Waking up in the morning, feeding herself and then starting her morning chores. Fortunately, much of this place was self-sustaining and self-cleansing, but books still became dusty and, on occasion, they did have a visitor, which meant re-organizing or assisting in locating certain texts.

While the Library of Ilearstadel had long closed its doors to the world of mortals, it had not cut itself off from the world beyond. Spirits and, in some rarer instances, gods appeared. They hardly ever paid her any mind unless they needed something, and despite the fact that Lyra was desperate for some sort of interaction beyond having conversations with her sentient house, there were rules about these guests specifically.

Almost all did not come with the intention of making polite talk, and as the Librarian, she had to respect her patrons' wishes.

It was frustrating, but Lyra had learned several times, unfortunately, that gods and spirits were not to be bothered. Those hard lessons had all ended with the library vouching for her and the irked guest revoking whatever punishment they had felt she had deserved for simply asking a question. After a couple of lectures from the library itself, Lyra realized it was more trouble than it was worth to try and make friends with beings that simply didn't care. They all came here for one thing, and one thing only: knowledge.

So when she was done with her duties for the day, how else was a Librarian to spend her time? Reading, of course. She also had a few other hobbies, if one could really call them that, but most days, Lyra found she was drained of any energy to do anything other than curl up in her favorite spot—or in bed—with a good book.

It was an existence that many might have found lonely or boring, but she did her best not to look at it that way.

After all, there was a whole world out there that would give almost anything to spend just one hour in the place she called "home".

---

The Library of Ilearstadel was never in the same place twice for as long as it could be.

The world's oceans were only so vast, after all. Every hundred years or so, it would find itself at the same coordinates, but then it would reset. This was one of the reasons that no one could ever seem to locate its whereabouts. Not to mention the other various security measures that had been put into place. A sea monster, for one thing, and tretourous waters, for another. In addition, the island it still rested upon was enchanted, making it invisible to the naked eye until the person stepped foot upon its shores. The land that surrounded the massive citadel was hardly safe. Dangerous creatures, ones thought to have been extinct, roamed the island's landscape, and practically every fruiting plant was poisonous to those of the races. It still appeared as a paradise ought to, giving any person who had been lucky to come close enough to the abandoned library a sense of false security.

After the great library had closed its doors to the world, it was intent on ensuring that no mortal would ever successfully open them again.

 

[AndrewS]

One final job.

"You've got to be kidding me? That much gold? Just to find a book for you?"

"You'll find in time that this task will not be nearly as easy as you suspect it to be...but yes, those are my terms. Retrieve me what I seek and you shall be rewarded."

For Locke, it was an offer that sounded almost too good to be true. For somebody as distrusting as he was, the sell-sword, who found himself longing for an escape from the lifestyle he had been living, did his diligence around the village. For everybody he spoke with, he heard a different story of how the old man living a top the hill, the very same who had offered him this job, had performed miraculous feats of magic and had changed their lives. He healed those who were sick, he repaired that which was broken, he warded away unwanted intruders from finding the cozy little hamlet he resided in...and most of all, none of them deemed him untrustworthy. They called him Elder, nobody seemed to know his real name, but still, they trusted him with their lives and their family's lives.

"So, why me?" Locke asked, looking across at the man intently. He had returned, after completing his reconnaissance, to find the man on the front porch of his home, overlooking the rest of the village beneath him. It bustled with life; children were playing, birds were chirping, the adults were working away tending the fields and manning their stalls, selling the goods they had gathered. This entire place seemed self sufficient and, somehow, disconnected from the rest of the kingdom it was a part of. "I've spoken to a dozen different people from your town and they all speak very highly of you...and of how capable you are. You're a wizard, aren't you?"

"That I am." He responded, with a nod of his head. His eyes were alive with energy crackling within his iris, like small bolts of lightning dancing across a cerulean sky. "But as I told you before, this job is no ordinary job. It will take you to a place I am not allowed to enter."

"You still haven't answered my question." Locke's brow rose, curiously, stating his inquiry once more. "Why me?"

"Are you not the son of Rowen Rinehart? Are you not the last of your kind?"

"How do you know that?" Locke asked, surprised. His voice began to raise as he continued. "How do you know who my father is?"

"Does it matter? I know who you are, I know how badly you want out of this life. I'm offering you all the gold you could ever need. You could start a new life, finally put your past behind you...spend your fortune on liquor and drink your sorrows away. You're free to do whatever you wish. All you need to do is bring me that book."

Locke froze for a moment, in contemplation. His mind raced on all of the possibilities, a chance to finally distance himself from a life that had brought him so much pain.

~~~

The boat shook from the force of the waves. The ocean sprayed over the vessel, casting water across it's deck. Locke barely managed to keep it on course, but the sea itself seemed against him. He was far from a captain or a sailor, relying only on the small bit of knowledge his father had given him during their travels. He was ill-equipped to face such angry waters, but he knew it would all be worth the risk in the end. A compass shone in his right hand, glowing ethereally, imbued with magic that seemed to be honing him in on the destination the wizard had set for him.

Anybody sane would have thought Locke crazy for what he was doing.

Risking his life, facing the brunt of the entire ocean, chasing down an errand given to him by a magical man whom he didn't even know the real name of. The severity of this journey became evidently clear the farther off shore Locke went. He could feel things moving beneath the boat, and it wasn't just waves. He saw shadows swimming back and forth, beneath him, massive in size and imposing in shape, but none of them seemed to come any closer than staying beneath the surface. As much as the enchanted compass was a guide, it also seemed to serve as a ward, keeping away the terrors of the sea.

Elder had told him it would grant him protection until he arrived on the island, but Locke knew that once he was there, he was on his own.

The most pressing issue, once Locke realized he was somehow protected from danger here, was that he saw no sign of an island anywhere in sight. He was several hours away from land now, and nothing but the stormy ocean awaited him in all directions. Had he not seen the magic of the compass protecting him already, he would have thought this whole thing a ruse, but in his head, and in his gut, he had a feeling that none of this was by chance nor part of a misdirection.

"Hm?" Locke mused, watching as the compass seemed to direct him to stop. "Here?"

He seemed stranded in the middle of the ocean. Why was it telling him to stop here?

Locke shut the sails, letting the boat slow to a crawl without the wind, the force of the waves themselves doing the rest of the work in pushing him forward. Despite that feeling he was having, and his want to come across the fortune he was being promised, even he was beginning to lose faith in the old man's 'job'.

Then his boat hit something.

Peering over the front of the boat, Locke saw nothing, yet the boat continued to rock and hit against an object seemingly invisible. The compass began to spin relentlessly in his palm. There was something here, he knew it. Using mesh that was dangling from the side of his boat, he inched himself around it's side, wanting to get a closer look for himself. Dangling over the ocean, and feeling the vessel creaking back and forth, Locke lowered his foot down against the invisible barrier and his eyes widened in wonder as his perception changed.

Sprawling in front of him, as the glamor faded out, was an island that looked otherworldly. It was unlike anything he had seen. The distance showed the imposing shape of a massive citadel, a place which Locke assumed to be his destination, but had no confirmation on as the compass that had led him here had inexplicably gone dormant the moment the island appeared, discarding it's magic and leaving it nothing more than a simple captain's tool for wayfinding.

Locke gathered his pack from the boat and stepped onto the soil. He thought there to be a rumble beneath his feet, like something was moving through the ground, though maybe it was just a trick of his mind. Magic, perhaps? Each step made him more curious, eyeing plants and fruits he had never seen before, but worrying for his safety should he come into contact with any of it. This was an unknown place, he wondered how many others had even stepped foot here given the powerful magic that had concealed it. Worse still was that he could sense eyes upon him, like he was being watched. He wasn't alone here.

"There's no job too small."

Locke's father's voice echoed in his head. Gruff, yet warm, passion and compassion intertwined. "Remember, son. We do this to help people. Sure, it pays well, but that ain't nothing compared to how it feels to make a difference, big or small."

Locke felt himself transported back to his youth, back to when he was beginning to learn how to wield a sword, and learning from his father what it meant to be a mercenary. They had a group of about ten men who were extremely loyal to his father, and they moved about the kingdom coming and going as they pleased, completing jobs and helping those in need. Sometimes, they'd work with the kingdom's royalty, other times, they'd toil to help those who were less fortunate. Locke remembered his father giving passes to families who couldn't afford to pay, and he also remembered the reverence everybody seemed to have for his dad when they passed through. He had been doing it for years, he had quite the reputation, and their traveling band had become the exact opposite of what one would expect of a group of mercenaries and vagabonds.

His father was far better a man than he was. Locke had never lived up to that reputation, and how could he? He was half the fighter, and even less the person that Rowen Rinehart had been. It was an impossible task and yet, here he was, the last surviving member, trying to carrying the torch but drowning with every job he completed. He felt no satisfaction anymore. He wasn't out to help people, he was just trying to survive, he was betraying every lesson his father had ever taught him. He needed to get out of this life.

He needed to go to work.

Locke began walking in the direction of the structure, knowing full well he would likely meet resistance from whatever inhabited this island. His fingers remained coiled around the handle of his father's sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

"One day, you're going to be the one holding this sword, the one leading your men. A sword is a tool as much as it is a weapon, I pray that you'll use mine to carve yourself a better future, my son."

~~~

Every muscle in Locke's body ached.

Blood stained his clothing, torn and tattered. He had lost his pack a while ago, stumbling up to the entrance of this structure with his sword, the compass dangling at his waist, and not a whole lot more. These weren't animals...they were monsters. Creatures. They were acting like the ocean had been, defending whatever this place was. Somehow, someway, he had forced his way through, but he had dulled his father's sword, and he had barely an ounce of energy left in his body to keep fighting should something else hostile await him inside.

He lifted a dirty palm to the door and pushed with as much strength as he had left. The heavy door didn't budge. He tried again, meeting the same resistance. His fist slammed against it in frustration as he heard the movement of leaves and the crackling of branches. Another fight? How could he keep up?

"Open...let me in! I came all this way...I traveled your ocean, I fought against your protectors...open the door. Open the damn door..." He trailed off, desperately, sighing. He turned his back to it, resting against it, taking a load off for a moment as both hands clutched his sword in front of him. Maybe this was as far as he was meant to go. Perhaps this was what fate wanted for him. The Elder was leading him to the end of his road, finally giving him a chance to fine his freedom. His life had been painful, it had been filled with hurt and disappointment. He reclused himself because of that, yet he never had the courage to give up and dishonor his father's memory.

At least this way, he'd go down swinging; he'd go down on the job, just like his dad did.

"Dad..." He whispered, shutting his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't make you proud."

When Locke's eyes opened, two beasts snarled at him from a couple of meters away. He hadn't seen their approach while he spoke to his father's memory, but it wouldn't have made a difference. They were coming for him either way, hiding his head under the covers like a scared child wasn't going to make the monsters go away.

Locke Rinehart was the last surviving member of the Roaming Rinehart, the legacy left behind by an incredible man he could never measure up to. Deeming himself a failure, he had little understanding of just how special he was. He was before the legendary Library of Ilearstadel, one of very few humans to have ever even so much as laid eyes upon the fabled structure, and yet, all he could think about was how much of a disappointment he had become without realizing he had just done something nobody else alive could lay claim to.

He called out to his father, but it was the Library that listened.

 

[romancerper]

They were Its children. Each and every one of them were as important to It as all the books and scrolls and knowledge. They were not objects, though, and therefore, they had minds of their own. Needs. Wants. Feelings. All the things that made them and It alive. And yet, they were different than It. They had legs with which they could use to walk. They could go places that It could not follow, and once upon a time, they did. They could come and go as they pleased. Sometimes they left together, and other times they left alone. But they always came back. They had long lives. Thank the heavens, they did. It didn't know if It could survive watching them die so often. As it was, their presence was fleeting. Time passed faster for It when It remembered them. Otherwise, it moved at a snails place, and It recalled what loneliness felt like. It had been so long since It experienced being alone. Truly alone. For the longest time, It had many companions. Children. People that cared. It didn't matter to It what they were. They were Its just as It was theirs.

But then a terrible thing happened that caused It to lose so much of what It held dear. It became very close to the silence It had only experienced before them.

Now, It only had one.

A sweet girl. A daughter this time. With auburn hair that reminded It of maple leaves that turned from red to brown in the autumn and warm hazel eyes that sometimes appeared olive. She was a cheerful child, despite the fact she grew up without human interaction. Of course, she likely had parents. Parents that missed her dearly, for how could they not? This girl wasn't even Its biologically, and yet the thought of any harm coming to her made Its heart quiver. It was her Ilearian ancestry that brought her here, saved her from a watery grave. She had been much smaller then, the true definition of a child. It still thought of her as one, though. While she was a grown woman, her life span was just the blink of an eye to It.

It had a son before her. He was only middle-aged by Ilearian standards when he passed. It was grieving for quite a while, and yet, Lyra had only shown up what must have been a couple of months or so later. It had been the start of summer, and It had been in the northern seas. Likely, she had been traveling with her parents aboard a ship.

Sometimes, It wondered if they had survived. Were they looking for her? If It was in their position, It certainly would have been.

It was very protective of Its daughter. She was, after all, all It had, and It didn't want her time here to be short.

Librarians used to live for centuries, regardless of race, but the last few had been dying younger and younger. After the first occurrence, It wondered if it had been because Its children had been human, their Ilearian blood only a few drops within their bodies. But It had another daughter. A she-elf. She lived a long life...when compared to that of a human's, but she, too, had been quite young for her own race.

Lyra was half-elf, half-human with a slightly stronger Ilearian bloodline--elves hailing from certain parts of the world tended to be that way. Still, It worried. Each child had been younger than the previous one of their own race, meaning the lifespans of the Librarians as a whole, regardless of background, was shrinking dramatically.

It had a hunch, one that would require taking some risks, which was why, when the next outsider managed to make his way to Its front doors, It had a very difficult decision to make.

It hated the races. Only Ilearian descendants understood. But for the sake of Its daughter, for the sake of Lyra and all of the children that would follow her, It decided to show the male mercy.

---

"Someone is at the door."

The statement made Lyra take pause, tanned arm still outstretched with thin fingers poised to push upon the thick binding of the book so that it might slot back into its place on one of the higher shelves. She blinked, wondering if she heard right, before relaxing her stance, the bottoms of her bare heels touching the stone floor beneath them.

Had she heard correctly? No one was ever at the door. Gods and spirits didn't need doors.

"I wouldn't tarry any longer, child. He could very well die if left outside any longer."

That statement seemed to spur the young woman into action. After all, the wilderness outside the safety of the library's limestone walls was hardly safe. Monsters roamed about all hours of the day, and they had evolved to crave mortal flesh. Whomever their visitor was, it was shocking that he wasn't as good as dead the moment he had stepped foot upon the island. In fact, only Ilearians were ignored by such beasts, which was why she had not been bothered by any when she had first washed ashore.

Lyra had been just a few years old at that time, and when she came to, her airway burning from the sea's salt and side covered in sand, she had been absolutely terrified. The only comfort she had had was the Library's soothing voice, speaking calming words and explaining the way to its front stoop. The structure hadn't been hard to miss, but to a child, suddenly waking up alone and in some place unfamiliar to her, everything had been so overwhelming that she hadn't thought to seek shelter. She also had lost her memory. Even to this day, Lyra had no recollection of her time before here. The Library had reasoned that she had experienced something traumatic, nearly drowning, and that it was no wonder her brain had blocked such an ordeal out.

It made the Librarian wonder what she might find on the other side of the great, wooden door. Would this person be as frightened as she had been?

Fortunately, she hadn't been far from the main hall, which ran through the middle of the entire library, South wing to North wing, with only the center courtyard to interrupt it. Going as fast as her long limbs would carry her, Lyra made it to the front entrance shortly after a loud knock echoed through the large foyer. Without giving it a single thought, she threw the doors open.

The poor woman hadn't expected a disheveled man to fall back-first into her, his weight easily forcing her to the ground. The impact knocked the air from her for a second, leaving her pursed lips with a pained "oof".

 

[AndrewS]

Locke's eyes struggled to stay open, exhaustion limited how much he could use of the very limited energy that still remained in his body. He didn't want to just give up, though the end result of what was to come seemed inevitable, but it was hard to see a way out. His father's sword barely had it's edge anymore, having dulled from all of the fighting he had already gone through. He barely had enough strength to lift it, nevermind swing the heavy weapon, and as he peered past the first two beasts who had cornered him, he saw more movement within the trees. Soon, he would have much more than just a pair to contend with, and those heavy doors were doing nothing more than holding him up, preventing him from falling to his knees. They weren't opening. Nobody was coming to save him.

He tried to remain steady, using both hands to grasp the hilt of the sword as if that would somehow give him enough leverage to wield it at least a little while longer. The first wolf-like creature began to advance on him, causing Locke to flinch as it began to pick up speed.

He expected to feel claw or fang meet skin, ripping and tearing him to shreds. Instead, he felt something else.

He fell backwards, but something broke his fall, if only for a moment, until he landed spine-first on tile. The heavy doors had swung open with urgency, creating a rush of wind as he fell inward. He groaned in pain, eyes lifted sky, feeling his head resting against something that felt very unlike the cold floor that had greeted the rest of his body. As his eyes adjusted, and he craned his neck backwards, he stared upwards into the eyes of a woman.

An elf?

And what beautiful eyes they were. Though, maybe that was the desperation talking.

How long had it been since he had seen another person? Especially under these circumstances? The hope it instilled in him almost made him forget about the threat at hand. He patted the floor around him, searching for the sword he had dropped during his fall, unable to move much more than that, or direct his eyes anywhere else. Instead of finding it, however, he felt a second rush of air as the large doors slammed shut, blocking out the monsters who thirsted for his blood, trapping them on the outside of this structure.

Now, that the initial surprise had worn off, as well as the invitation of safety those large doors provided, Locke felt her stare.

His eyes shifted away from the elf. He was practically in her lap! Using what strength he had left, he awkwardly rolled himself onto his stomach, off of her to create some separation. "I...I apologize..." The sell-sword stammered, his throat dry and his lungs burning to draw breath. "I didn't mean to...actually, who are you? What...is this place?"

He hadn't yet the time to look around, to see what exactly he had stumbled into. His mission to retrieve the book was at the back of his mind now, replaced with something entirely different. A curiosity, for certain, but also an emotional whiplash. He had been so certain his life had been about to come to it's end just moments ago and now, he was here, with her. He should have been more on-guard, his father had taught him better, but she didn't appear to be a threat and, in all honestly, she had just saved his life.

With how reclused he had become, Locke was foreign to the idea of being in-debted to somebody, or thankful of their interference in his life, so he pushed down that response, as he always did, settling for something else entirely. The fact that he had even apologized to her in the first place was a demonstration of how distressed he had been, and now, as he settled back into himself, he could feel his shell pulling him back within. And that meant it was back to business as usual.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen any books around here, would you?."

 

[romancerper]

Her tailbone and the back of her head were hurting her the most; likely, they had taken the brunt of the fall. Fortunately, Lyra, being a bit clumsy by nature, had experienced worse. As a child, she had been rather fond of climbing things: trees, bookshelves, statues...She always got herself into some place that she probably shouldn't have, purposefully ignoring the only authority figure in her life. The Library had told her many times that she was probably one of the most mischievous children It had in a long time--granted, usually a Librarian was already close to adulthood when they stumbled upon this place and their duty to it. The structure was hardly made safe for an unsupervised, young mortal.

One of the first things the Library had insisted she learned was basic healing--something that, despite her elven roots, hadn't come easy to her at first. Thank goodness she had put in the hours she had, though.

The Library's unexpected guest certainly looked worse for wear. He was bleeding from several places, from what she could tell, and the torn fabric of his clothes was practically saturated with it in some areas.

She sat up slowly, ignoring her lower back's protest, hazel eyes still studying the man who had yet to get off of her. Gods, he was heavy, in the sense one might be when they had nary the energy to keep themselves upright. Likely, he had been leaning against that door for support--not just because he was desperate to reach safety.

He had yet to notice her, it seemed, or what had exactly broken his fall. From what she could tell, he was still recovering from the sudden shift in position. The whole thing was likely disorienting, and having once come to this island, alone and very much afraid, Lyra could feel some empathy for the stranger, even if she would very much like for him to get off her. She'd give him a minute more, not wanting to startle him or, heaven forbid, cause him to pass out. Lyra didn't know if she had the strength to move him, should that happen.

Fortunately, it took him less time than the halfling thought it would. When his gaze met her own, she arched a brow at him, wondering how he might react. From what she could see of his features, he was likely human, and Lyra's experience had been limited to the divine and otherworldly. They had different social constructs and mannerisms than those of the races. Had she been in this predicament with a god, she likely would have been punished by now. Turned into a frog or some other creature that they deemed her worthy of, given she had the audacity to be in their way whilst falling. Very few gods and goddesses viewed mortals as anything more than dirt, and touching one was probably the equivalent of being doused in mud.

But this stranger was mortal. Like her.

Watching him fumble for his sword whilst still atop her, Lyra had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Amusement was hardly an appropriate emotion--the poor man was likely terrified that one or more of the beasts he had encountered outside would make their way into the Library--but she knew better. They would not step foot past the threshold. They could not, even if the doors were wide open, as they currently were.

Still, it was fascinating to see where the stranger's priorities were. Arm self first. Get off of the unknown woman next.

The sound of the front doors closing seemed to make him rethink the order of things because within the next moment, he was rolling off of her, stammering out an apology followed by questions. The most shocking of which had been in regards to his current location.

Lyra's eyes widened as she moved to kneel beside him, knees on the stone floor. "You do not know where you are?" She spoke his language, though her voice likely had a bit of an accent. One could only be so fluent in a language they had only practiced on occasion with a sentient Library in their head. "Were you not seeking this place out?"

Perhaps he was delusional. It wouldn't be so far-fetched to assume he had lost enough blood to be.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen any books around here, would you?."

Now, this time, the young woman couldn't keep from laughing. Was he actually serious? He could barely move from his injuries, for one thing, and for another, he was in the most fabled and sought-after Library in the world. He wanted to know if she had seen any books? Hilarious!

"I've seen far too many," she finally responded, moving to her feet. She spent a moment, patting down the skirt of her white dress before shifting her attention to him. Her hazel eyes scanned his body, still in a pile on the floor, before moving to his face. "But they can wait. You are..." She hesitated a moment, the word in old Ilearian surfacing instead of the language she needed it to being in. "Unwell." Not quite the right description, but close enough.

She bent forward at the hips, hand hovering close to his shoulder, waiting his permission. "If I help, do you think you can stand?"

 

[AndrewS]

Lyra was, at least on some noticeable level, very beautiful, but in a different way. She felt human, yet, something was off about her features. Her eyes, while a deep and distracting hazel were not the same as his, she was different, but he hadn't yet the chance to figure out what about her was causing the discrepancy. He was here for a reason, after all, this was no time to be admiring a stranger, especially one who could be dangerous...but she didn't exactly look like a threat. And if she had wanted to harm him, she would have done so already while she had him in a more vulnerable, dazed state.

How curious, indeed.

She acted as though his confusion about this place was out of the ordinary, as if it were regular for him to stumble into massive structures protected by vicious, otherworldly creatures. She seemed surprised that he was here, but more confused by his questioning. She spoke with an accent, so subtle, but enough to tell him that the common tongue she was speaking, the one he understood, was not so common to her and was something she had picked up over time. Still, he appreciated her making the effort to communicate to him, he wasn't in any state to engage in another fight, especially in a place, and with a person, he knew absolutely nothing about.

"Seeking this place? I don't even know what this place is." Locke responded, blinking errantly, feeling his guard continuing to raise back to his normal, cut-off demeanor. "Do you have any idea how many of those...savages, I had to fight off just to get to whatever this place is? Are they locked out? And what about... Nevermind. I'm looking for something."

She said she had seen far too many, and his disposition seemed to change slightly to something a little more hopeful. Maybe this was indeed where he was meant to be; though, that still didn't make it any clearer what it was he had stumbled into. Or whom was acting as it's guardian.

Locke tried to steady himself, but the pain across his body was beginning to become evident now that the adrenaline had worn off. He knew he was tired from all of the fighting, but he never realized the extent of his injuries until he began to feel the stinging pain across his torso. His eyes dropped downwards, looking at the gashes that had turned his clothing to tatters, and the crimson that was seeping through the fabric from the wounds hidden underneath. "I am fine...I just..." His sentence ended at it's center, a throbbing pain pushing forward to the front of his head and spreading into an ache that encompassed his entire cranium.

He staggered back, feeling faint, his ears ringing so badly that he hadn't caught what else she had said. His hand grasped towards what was left of his father's sword, but it was just a little too far away from him to pull back into his clutches without moving, and he simply wasn't couldn't make that journey right now, as small as it was.

She was getting closer, and his instinct was to pull away, but he didn't have the wherewithal to do it on his own. She seemed to be offering him some aid and he found himself leaning into her, instinctively, against his better judgment, resting his weight against her as he tried to pull himself up onto his feet. His legs buckled beneath him, causing him to put a little more strain on her than he would have liked, fearing it would cause them both to topple back down to the floor instead.

 

[romancerper]

His brusque reply had stung a bit more than she cared to admit, but she supposed it was only natural for a person to be visiting a library for the sake of its knowledge. Why waste time conversing with the Librarian? Or even being polite? Perhaps the races were no different from the divine in that respect. It was a bit disheartening to think all these years, the venom the Library sprouted about the "ungrateful mortals" might actually be true. Despite her home's negative view of them, Lyra had wanted to keep a positive outlook. After all, how could she judge someone she had never met?

How could she judge someone she hardly knew?

It was the lack of an answer to both of those questions that calmed her triggered temper. Even if this man was being a bit rude, he was also very injured and likely exhausted from whatever journey he had taken to bring him here. Also, he had just had a frighteningly close call with death.

Initially, he had been--foolishly--refusing her help when it was rather obvious by the wince that crossed his features and the trouble he was experiencing just trying to sit up, even, that he did need it. Still, Lyra did not force it on him. She didn't even really offer it to him until she could not bare to watch him struggle any longer. Even she had her limits, and he could protest all he wanted. One way or another, he would need medical attention, and if he didn't accept her aid, he wouldn't be awake to stop her from administering it, as evident by the way he had practically swooned whilst still on the floor.

Lyra suppressed the urge to roll her eyes when he finally did lean his weight against her. Instead, she promptly wrapped an arm about his waist, summoning whatever strength she had--which wasn't much--to keep them both upright. It didn't help things when his knees nearly fell from beneath him, but somehow, she had managed, stumbling only for a second before catching the both of them.

"Fine, indeed." She couldn't help the quip, spoken in old Ilearian. Likely, he didn't understand her, but her tone didn't hide her exasperation. After all, she was a Librarian, not a healer.

The trek to the middle courtyard was hardly a short or easy one. The halfling, though not much shorter than the man she carried, had to pause several times to either shift her hold on him or catch her breath. Though, lowering him to the soft grass had been the most taxing bit by far. Her poor back, which still ached from their tumble earlier, was not silent in its opinion on how it was being treated, but Lyra wasn't so uncaring as to deposit him unceremoniously to the ground. She slowly helped him onto his back, too worried to leave him in a seated position, before straightening to her full height and eyeing him. After all she had done to bring him here, he better not die on her.

She then turned towards the tree, the one she had spent her morning sitting beneath.

There is a ripe one towards the top.

Of course there is.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Lyra began to climb the sturdy trunk, pulling herself up onto the first branch before hoisting herself onto another one that was slightly higher. Her muscles protested each and every movement she made, but the pear-shaped fruit was the first step in healing her guest. She, herself, had had sampled quite a few of these fruits during her time here. Its skin was pale, nearly white in color, while its flesh was a vibrant, juicy blue; it stained your tongue, but it sped up the body's ability to form new tissue and fight off infection.

A few minutes later, the Librarian's feet were back in the grass, taking her back to her patient.

 

[AndrewS]

Locke's eyes struggled to stay open. Why was it so bright? They were inside of a building, yet it felt like a garden. Grass, the sweet aroma of plans, the fresh, open air...what was this place? His head was spinning, his body too tired and pained to allow him any rational thought. He felt her struggle to escort him, then even more so as she laid him on his back, but the brightness caused his eyes to remain shut, shielding him from it. He hadn't seen her looking over his injuries, nor had he known she had left for a short while to scale the large tree he had still yet to see with his own eyes.

As he waned in and out of consciousness, he saw his past replayed to him. Was it his life flashing before his eyes? Or was this place having an affect on him?

"You're holding it wrong."

A gruff voice guide him from over his shoulder. Locke was young, no more than ten years old, clutching the handle of a heavy, iron sword. He could hardly lift it with both hands, never mind one, but he was expected to wield it like a soldier. This was training, the second or third time that week, and he was staring down a dummy made of straw and leather, intended to take a beating.

Albaros was his trainer today, and Locke didn't like him much.

From what Locke could remember of the mercenary, he was one of his father's closest allies, and most trusted companions. The two of them had fought, side-by-side, in many minor conflicts on behalf of their kingdom, before splintering off to form the Roaming Rineharts, with Albaros being a founding member of the group. In fact, Albaros was probably the only person his father, Rowan, would trust to train his son, outside of himself.

Locke was tired of training, he felt like he wasn't getting any better, and Albaros drilling orders into him like an army sergeant was doing more harm to his morale than it was good.

"I can't do this anymore..." Locke voiced, exasperated. His arms were burning with exhaustion, a familiar feeling that Locke had felt in present day as well, but from over-exertion. While he had eventually caught on to the hang of wielding a blade, he struggled with it for many years.

"Sure you can." Albaros responded. "Five more. C'mon, boy."

"I can't." Locke repeated, a second time.

"You're a Rinehart. You will learn how to swing a sword."

"I can't!" Locke's younger voice pitched this time, echoing through the training hall. Upon realizing what he had done, Locke braced himself for a punishment that never came.

"That's enough." Instead, a different voice interrupted, one much kinder than that of his trainer. "Albaros, take a break. I'd like to speak with my son."

Albaros nodded, sticking his own sword point-down into the dirt and retiring to the barracks, giving father and son the training yard alone. Rowan approached Locke until he was standing directly in front of him, his hand reached out to rest a top Locke's shoulder.

"I can't do this..." The boy told his father, looking up at him through tearful eyes. Those tears did not last for long before they were wiped away, clearing the child's vision.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Rowan began, pausing for Locke's response. When he saw his son was not prepared to give it, he just continued to speak, talking the lesson he wished to impart. "There's no shame in failing something for the first time. We're human, after all. You should see me in the kitchen. I've burnt enough food to feed an entire village of people and never once did I get it right." He laughed to himself, heartily. Gods, Locke missed the way that laugh sounded. "But that doesn't stop me from preparing dinner. Sure, nobody else ever eats with me...and I can't blame them, but I still try. You know why?"

"Why...?"

"Because once upon a time, my father taught me that us Rineharts are a lot of things...some of us fighters, some of us scholars, many of us terrible cooks...but none of us have ever been quitters. Not a single one. Did I ever tell you our family motto?"

"No, father, you didn't..."

"They always spoke it in some language I could never speak myself, but there's a translation. Loosely, it means 'Resolute and honor.' It's in our very blood to never give up. To keep fighting, to live every moment to it's last and to do so without regret. I'll continue to cook until the day that I die, just as I'll continue to fight to make a difference for the people we protect. What are you going to do with your resilience? If it isn't to become a fighter, that is fine by me, I would never force you to be something you are not, but if you are giving up simply because you feel as though you aren't strong enough...well, son, strength comes from within, and we Rineharts never give in."

Rowan's hand fell to Locke's, grasping around it, helping him lift the sword. He adjusted his son's grip, slightly, giving enough of his own strength to make it a little easier for him to keep the heavy weapon lifted. Locke did the rest. He swung with all of his might, his burning muscles forcing through the pain until the sword pierced the leather of the dummy, getting stuck on the way out. For the first time since he had started training, he had landed a real, actual blow. He looked on in surprise, his eyes darting back and forth between the dummy and his father while Rowan Rinehart looked back in pride.

"Get back up and fight."

Why did that sound so out of place? Young Locke faded away and the Locke resting in the library garden began to awake. His eyes strained to the light, though something seemed to be blocking some of it from filtering down into his face.

"Huh...?" He mumbled as his focus adjusted.

It was an animal looking down at him, curiously, it's head tilted at an angle. It's nose sniffed at Locke's face, causing the mercenary to try and back himself away, fearing it to be another creature trying to attack him, before getting a better look at what it actually was. It was a cat? But not a regular cat. This wasn't like the typical strays he'd see in a village, or in the wild. It's fur was shimmering, with undertones of silver and gold, one eye baring the former while the other displayed the latter. It's ears were long, droopy, and it's tail was elegant and long, curling halfway into a question-mark.

Once it realized that Locke was awake, it's inquisitive nature caused it to lift a paw, batting it against the man's cheek, before darting away at a speed Locke's tired mind could hardly process. He tried to pull himself up into a seated position, but it was hard for him to even breathe, let alone move. His eyes darted around the garden, getting a good look at it for the first time, hearing the sound of somebody else approaching. He knew it had to be her, the girl who took him in.

"I'm going to ask again...what is this place...?"

 

[romancerper]

Lyra had just caught a glimpse of the animal before it had made its escape, but it certainly hadn't been enough for her to get a good look at it. In all her years of being in this place, there were still things that roamed these halls that she had yet to meet. For some that might be a terrifying notion, the unknown, but she always figured that if something truly wished to cause her harm, it would have ensured it came to her by now. Plus, the Library, she suspected, communicated with the other living creatures that resided here; though, she never had any visual evidence of it. Whenever she asked the voice in her head, it always responded with a mirthful, "What do you think?"

What an annoying way to say answer "yes".

The woman slowly lowered herself to the ground beside her guest, about even with his shoulders, folding her legs beneath her. She then grabbed at the hem of her skirt, lift it just slightly up her calves to have some slack to the fabric so that she might clean the fruit's skin off with it. Water would have been the preferable medium, but Lyra wasn't sure she felt comfortable leaving the man alone in the state that he was in.

"This place has many names, but I believe those that speak the common tongue call it, 'The Library of Ilearstadel'," she responded, gaze lifting from her lap to his face as she extended out her right arm, offering the fruit. "You should eat as much of this as you can. Do you need help sitting up?"

The question was more of a formality than a genuine inquiry. Lyra had seen him attempt to sit up, and it was rather obvious that any movement he tried to make caused him pain. It would have been more efficient, at this point, for her to just assist the man into an upright position because he certainly couldn't swallow with his head flat on the ground, but she felt strange about touching someone without their express permission. She didn't know why because there were probably situations where such a thing really wasn't necessary. It wasn't like she was doing something untoward. She was simply providing assistance where it was clearly needed, and a part of her knew she would provide aid even if he did fight her on it. He needed the medical attention, after all, and she wasn't about to let someone just die because of their own stubborn distrust of her.

The human appeared wary, but thus far, it seemed even he realized that he could not do this alone.

This was just the first step. Ingesting the fruit would help; however, he would still feel pain, and there was the matter of cleaning the gashes in his skin. Lyra really did not have the stomach for closing the gaps in his flesh, with needle and thread or the limited knowledge she had regarding healing spells. Of course, she would do it if she had to; she just really wouldn't enjoy the process. The mineral springs were too far away for her to carry him to. She doubted either of them had the strength for that trek, but perhaps, once he finished eating and seemed a bit more stable, she could see about getting a basin and filling it. Then there was the matter of dressing...Lyra was pretty certain she had come across some of her predecessor's clothes in one of the bedrooms in the north wing. Perhaps she could find them again and see what the moths had left that was salvageable.

 

[AndrewS]

"...The Library of Ilearstadel."

Where had he heard that name before?

It felt so familiar, like a word teasing the tip of his tongue, or a thought buried so far back that it was struggling to break the surface. He repeated the name a couple of times over in his head, missing the entirety of her second sentence, as well as the question she had posed him afterwards. He looked at her, blankly. Something about it just felt so...familiar. It was a feeling of deja vu without a purpose, a feeling without a conduit.

"Hm?" He mused, out loud, giving some sort of reaction so that he didn't keep her waiting, though it was dismissive and an obvious sign that he wasn't entirely paying attention, though given his current state, it probably wouldn't have seemed too out of place for him to respond in that manner. His eyes dropped to the fruit in her hand as he tried to discern the point of the conversation. Did she want him to eat? "Oh. Alright, then." He told her, not knowing he had agreed to her moving him as well.

His reaction was defensive, at first, but he clearly needed the help, and it was a little easier to breathe when he was sitting up, so though he initially protested, it quickly died down and Locke found himself thankful for her help, though he'd never speak it out loud. He continued to eye the fruit in her palms, wondering what it was. It looked just like a normal fruit, but nothing else about this place was normal. In fact, everything seemed the very opposite. Was it even safe?

The Library of Ilearstadel, hm?

At least he was in the right place. A library would have countless books, and he was willing to bet that the one he was sent to retrieve was somewhere within this impossible place. If step one was making it to the island and step two was getting inside of this structure, he was halfway done his journey. He tried to think of the gold, the reward at the end of the job, a reason to think all of the pain and harm inflicted on his body would be worth it, but it hurt too much, and his thoughts continued to be occupied elsewhere.

"It's just a legend." Albaros would say.

"There are so many things in this life that were legends...until we proved them true!" His father would reply. These memories were just barely there, past the surface, like something was blocking them out.

"A library. Full of books and crazy creatures, where Gods go to hang out and hide the secrets of a forgotten race? Even for you, Rowan, that's out there, don't you think?"

There was a brightness in Rowan's eyes as he recounted what he had been told. "Is it so bad to believe in the impossible?"

His father had told him of this magical library, that's why he remembered it, but he was so young that it had slipped his mind...though it felt more like it had been buried away on purpose. A smile came to Locke's face as he realized that if this girl was telling the truth, he had accomplished something his father never had, and always hoped to have done; the found it. He found a place of legend, all by himself.

He just wished his father was there to see it with him.

"The Library of Ilearstadel." Locke spoke out, suddenly, looking back at Lyra. "It's real. Huh." Locke mused, his smile persisting. "So, what does that make you?" He asked, reaching out to take the fruit, showing a sign of solidarity in the way he prepared to eat it. It was, if nothing else, a way of putting her at ease so that she would trust him, and share information with him. His entire disposition changed back from cold to more open, but it was a front. He wanted something from this place, and from her, and this was how he always got it. "You're clearly not human like me. And you live here all by yourself? It must be...lonely."

 

[romancerper]

He clearly hadn't been listening to her, but Lyra supposed she shouldn't expect much from a man who had nearly lost his life just moments ago. Shifting the fruit from her right hand to her left, the Librarian leaned forward and carefully slid her right arm underneath his neck. His immediate reaction was defensive, jolting at her touch and regarding her with wide blue eyes. Her first instinct was to recoil. In this vulnerable position, regardless of how injured he was, if he felt threatened by her, he could easily cause her harm.

"I'm just helping you." Her words were slow, tone soft, as if she were subduing a frightened animal. "I promise."

When he made no move to push her away or worse, Lyra finished wrapping her arm about his shoulders and gently lifted him from the grass until she felt he would be able to eat without choking. All the while, her eyes had been on his face, searching for any sign that she was causing him pain. She then waited patiently for him to take the proffered fruit from her other hand.

He still seemed uncertain, despite verbally agreeing not one minute ago, but eventually, thank the gods, he took it from her.

"It's real. Huh."

A smile stretched her lips as she nodded, her left hand falling into her lap. "It always has been."

It was strange to have a guest that thought this place was just a legend or to not know what she was. Lyra wasn't surprised that he had guessed correctly that she was not human. At least, not fully human. All he had to do was look at the pointed tips of her ears, peaking out from between her auburn locks. The characteristic was blatantly elfish, but typically, with a full-blood elf, their ears were taller, more pointed. Her height might have also been a clue--a bit more than average for a female human but certainly shorter than the average she-elf.

The last bit that he said, admittedly, threw her off. She blinked at him, surprised he had even thought such a thing. The word "lonely" was something she spent most of her days trying to avoid; it was in her vocabulary, but she purposefully pretended it wasn't.

"I'm not human. No. I'm what some might call a 'halfling' or a 'half-breed'." The latter term had a negative connotation with it. Not everyone was accepting of mixed-race people. Fortunately, living alone in a library lost to civilization meant encountering prejudiced people was pretty rare. Encountering anyone was pretty rare. "I am also the Librarian here, and, yes...I live here by myself." Again, she avoided the word "lonely" or any derivative of it, such as "alone", like the plague, and in the silence that followed the slightly somber confirmation that she was, indeed, the sole inhabitant here, Lyra felt pressed to fill the silence.

"It's okay. I'm kind of used to it, and I'm not really alone, you know?" Her eyes lifted from his face to gaze at the structure around them. "A lot of animals reside here with me, and the Library--"

Do not tell him about me.

The sound of her home's voice echoing in her mind made her take pause, lips pressing shut. She hadn't been thinking; she hadn't considered that maybe the Library did not want this stranger--a member of one of the races It claimed to despise--knowing that It could communicate with her.

 

[AndrewS]

Though she reassured him that she was only trying to help, and he had no reason to think otherwise, Locke was naturally suspicious, and it was only natural given the peculiar laws of nature that seemed to govern this so-called Library of Ilearstadel. If he wanted her to trust him, which was very much the goal now if he was going to find that book, he needed to play along with this and to act as though he believed her. He intended to do just that, but there was a part of him that would remain a skeptic, even if his tired and injured body desperately needed whatever kind of healing she beleived that this fruit was provide to him.

He mulled it over, rotating the fruit in his hand as Lyra spoke to him of the library, answering his questions one-by-one, even though he had yet to learn her name. It was no surprise taht she wasn't human, he had already determined so much, but to hear her describe herself as a halfing only rose more questions. If he was to assume one half was like him, which seemed a safe bet given her human-like features, then it begged the question of what was the other? And if it made her dangerous?

She seemed elfish in nature, but he wasn't going to assume anything and risk offending her until she told him herself. He still needed her guidance, after all, which was why he was laying so thickly on the fact that she was alone and, as such, must have felt loneliness that he could grant a reprieve towards. Locke was unaware of the voice from the Library that Lyra could hear, after all.

"Librarian? So, you just live here and take care of all of these books?" Locke asked, hearing the skittering of animals on cue. "...and these creatures?" Creatures was putting it rather bluntly; they were all very much animal-esque, just as she was human-adjacent, but even just seeing what he thought was a cat up close and noticing the abnormalities threw what he knew about animal life into a loop. She tried to use those animals as an explanation for what she wasn't alone, but unless some of them could talk, which wasn't entirely out of the question but unproven, he didn't fully buy it.

"Hanging out with animals isn't the same as having somebody to talk to." He told her, raising a brow. His eyes dropped from hers, back down to the fruit, the aching in his stomach and the stinging in his bones finding a fever pitch. "Here goes..." He mumbled, mostly to himself, lifting it upwards towards his mouth to finally take a bite.

The taste was sweet, yet bitter. The juices inside the fruit were not unlik that of an apple, or an orange, but with a flavor he couldn't quite place. It felt like a combination of a lot of things, and yet, like something he had never enjoyed before, but either way, he couldn't say it was unpleasant. Furthermore, the second he felt it sliding down his throat, a warmth farmed in his core. It was alarming, at first, but then relaxing almost immediately afterwards as it spread, filtering through every aching muscle, coursing through each vein until it had encompassed his entire body like a blanket. "Huh...? That's...new."

For now, he no longer felt the pain. He wasn't sure if this meant he had somehow been healed, or if the fruit's nectar was serving as a nulling agent to numb him of what he was feeling, but either way, it was comfort he hadn't known since setting foot on that boat to begin his journey here.

"Ah, that feels...so much better. Thank you, Miss...I didn't catch your name." He trailed off, giving her a half-smile. Locke could be rather charming when he wanted to be, and he was trying his best right now. His sharp features, his deep eyes, which seemed to feign a warmth that simply was not there, the low tone of his voice; he knew what he was doing, and had likely used it many times before to manipulate people on his travels. His father wouldn't be proud, but he had to do what he had to do, and manipulating this 'Librarian' was no different.

"If it's okay with you, I would like to see more of this place. Perhaps there may be something here I can help you with to repay you for your kindness. You have saved my life, after all." He continued to charm, finding the strength returning to stand himself back up on his own. "I am very intrigued by you and this 'Library'...and I'm sure you could use the conversation after all this time."

 

[romancerper]

He was still obviously suspicious of the fruit, and, worried for him, Lyra was tempted to take a bite just to show him that it was not poisonous. After all, if she was interested in killing him, why go through all this trouble of letting him into the library and helping him to this very spot? She could have very well left him outside if her goal had been to orchestrate his death. Time was of the essence. If they did not see to his injuries, they could easily become infected, and while Lyra could probably deal with that, if it spread through his bloodstream, things wouldn't be so simple anymore. Even with the Library and its books as a resource, there was a difference between written word and actual practice. She was not a healer or a medicine woman. And what if the ingredients required for a potion or powder needed to assist his body in fighting off whatever ailed it was not readily available on this island?

Granted, this stranger seemed more interest in learning about her and her home than his own health. Was his ability to fire question after question a testament to his actual state of well-being? Perhaps she was fretting too much?

Lyra eyed the gashes in his torso, blood still oozing out of some of them. No. I think I am exhibiting the adequate amount of concern.

His next question had her bringing her focus back to his face, a slight curve to her full lips. "I am responsible for the books and the Library itself. As for the creatures...they mostly take care of themselves. On occasion, if one is sick or injured, I'll try to help, but generally, they lead their own lives adjacent to mine."

Besides, most of them were not used to contact with the races or Librarians. Perhaps, at one time, back when the Library's doors were open and there were multiple Librarians, they were more sociable, but that had been centuries ago. The creatures that currently resided in this place had not been around then; they were descendants of the animals that had roamed this place then.

His remark about being around animals not being equivalent to having someone to speak with wasn't untrue, but Lyra pointedly ignored it. What else was she supposed to do? The Library had its reasons for closing its doors to the outside world, and the other beings that tended to be their regulars had no interest in speaking with her unless they needed help with locating a specific text or scroll. This human man was the first of the races the Librarian allowed in since, well, her, and he had no way of knowing that she actually did have someone to converse with. It just didn't want her telling him about It.

She watched as he finally put the fruit to his mouth. Hopefully, now, he would get some relief from the pain he felt and they could begin the process of taking care of those wounds of his.

"The closest translation to the actual name of that fruit would be 'Numb Drop'," she informed him before glancing over her shoulder at the towering trunk and branches behind them. "They only grow on that tree, and they're a great way to help the body heal."

It took him a couple moments longer to finish the fruit, and for the first time since they had met, it actually seemed like he might be beginning to trust her.

She returned his half-smile with a full one of her own, the mirth from it reaching her eyes. "You're welcome. And my name is Lyra." She paused a moment, preparing to go into a lecture about the fruit and its effects and intending to to do her best with explaining it like the Library had when she had first sampled the pleasant-tasting nectar. Often times, when people's pain went away so quickly, they had a tendency to forget that they were still, very much injured.

And that was exactly what this man did, almost immediately propelling himself up and into a standing position despite the state of him. Lyra's expression dropped.

"Ah. Wait!" she shouted, rushing to get to her own feet. "You have to be careful. You're still hurt, and that fruit only numbs the pain and speeds up the healing process. It doesn't just magically remove your wounds!"

 

[AndrewS]

"Lyra." He repeated her name back to her with a nod of his head, committing it to memory. Knowing it would be invaluable to what he was trying to pull off here. "My name is Locke, it's my pleasure to have met you when I did. I'm not so sure I'd be alive if I hadn't." Lucky was more the word than anything else, but he knew more than most that sometimes, all you really needed in life was a little bit of luck, and he wasn't going to risk karma biting him in the rear by bragging about it so outwardly.

There seemed to be certain questions, or topics that he touched on, that she didn't seem willing to discuss just yet. Perhaps she still needed more time to trust this stranger before she felt comfortable being completely open? He was still trying to get a feel for Lyra, and her personality, but he could already tell she was rather naïve, and that being trapped here as this place's 'librarian' had led her to a sheltered life, alone, with only books and animals to keep her company. His lack of true understanding on what this place really was should have, at least, made it easier for her to trust him that he wasn't lying about not really knowing much about Ilearstadel, or anything else to do with this peculiar structure and it's equally-strange inhabitants.

Her brushing off the questions didn't mean he was going to drop them, or stop attempting to get more information out of her, it just meant he might need to let up a little bit and try to get to know her a little more first. That sounded like a lot of effort to spend on someone he was just using, and planned on leaving behind, but if it got him what he came here for, he saw no reason not to continue, especially since she was very likely the only person here capable of saving his life if his injuries were more fatal than they seemed.

Couldn't blame him for trying, though.

The 'Numb Drop', as she put it, seemed to be having an incredible, immediate effect, causing him to question the warning that she was giving him. His body felt great; sure, it felt like he could feel nothing, but nothing was a whole lot better than searing pain. What was there to complain about? "Don't worry, I feel fine." He told her, granting her his most charming smile, which quickly started to waver and fade. Though his body did indeed feel numb, his head was starting to feel feint. Next, the room was spinning, and suddenly, he was falling backwards again, as he had before.

He didn't know if it was the pain his body was actually going through, or maybe the blood loss, but something clearly wasn't right inside of him. "Okay, that's not good..." He vocalized, feeling his vision blurring again. It was like the very light itself that he was looking at was bouncing back and forth, straight rays bending, zig-zagging like they were made from furled string. Even her face, although pleasant to his eyes, was causing him difficulty when he tried to focus, like narrowing his vision was causing daggers to pierce into his temples. Was his pain more than the fruit could numb? Or was it something else, entirely?

"I don't think the fruit worked, Lyra..."

 

[romancerper]

"Don't worry, I feel fine."

Lyra was pretty positive she had thought the exact same thing the first time she sampled the fruit. The Library had tried to warn her; although, It had been a bit faster in Its warning than she had been with issuing Locke one, but even still, he wasn't heeding it. She supposed she couldn't entirely blame him. It was his first time experiencing anything like it, if she had to guess. As far as she knew, Numb Drops did not grow anywhere else in the world except from this tree.

"Of course you do, but that doesn't mean you should be reckless." Her lips were drawn down into a deep frown, concern pulling at her brow as she stepped closer to him and reached out her arms just in case. Thank the Heavens she had because she seemed to realize he stumbled before he did, and in the next moment, he nearly collapsed back to the ground. She grabbed him and steadied him before he could, though, having to practically hold the man to keep them both from falling. Letting out a sigh, she gazed at his face; his charming smile had been wiped from it completely, and he looked a little pale. "I tried to tell you..."

Locke's expression changed rapidly, then. He was looking right at her, and yet from the way he was narrowing his blue eyes repeatedly, it was almost as if he was trying to concentrate on her. It was odd being on the receiving end of such a look, but she pushed back the uncomfortable feeling that came with being stared at so intently and instead tried to figure out what was wrong. Was he having a bad reaction to the fruit? Such a thing wasn't impossible, but imagine his luck if that were the case...

"What's wrong?" she asked, frantically searching his face for any other signs that might clue her in. "Is your vision okay? Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?"

She lifted up one of her hands, removing it from his arm, to gently place her knuckles against his forehead. Then, she moved the back of the same hand to her own forehead, comparing the temperature. He felt a little bit warm to her, but this was hardly an accurate way of assessing for fever unless he was really burning up.

"Why don't we sit down again? I'm worried you'll faint for real this time," Lyra suggested softly, her palm finding his arm once more. "And try not to worry too much. I promise I'll fix you up."

 

[AndrewS]

There was a sense of worry from Lyra, and it was pretty obvious why. Locke had damn neared collapsed in on himself just trying to stand on his own, and whatever injuries he had sustained were clearly much more serious than either of them had imagined. While Locke had originally been planning on trying to con the Librarian into giving him what he came here for, it was beginning to dawn on him that he would need her help in a much more serious way. Given the gravity of such a grave situation, he knew the eventual betrayal would be a difficult one to follow through on, but he had no choice, and she shouldn't have been so trusting of a stranger.

He was teaching her a life lesson from beyond the confines of the Library. Yeah, that's what he was doing, or at least that's what his justification would be if a heavy conscience came knocking once he was off of the island.

"It's...blurry." He told her, truthfully, as she asked of his vision. "...both?" Locke responded to the second, answering each question after a moment of deliberate pause in between speaking. Even his throat was starting to feel dry, words were difficult to muster and almost equally as hard to think of. Something at the back of his head was harkening this back to an event he had witnessed before when a member of his mercenary group had been poisoned, and they were only barely able to bring him back from the brink of death.

Wait, did Lyra poison him with the fruit?

No, that was quite the leap to make. Instead, Locke was pretty certain if anyone, or anything, had been toxic, it was probably the gashes made on his body from his fighting against the island's protectors.

"...poison." He blurted out, once, then again, a second time, before coughing. "Poison!"

He couldn't articulate much more than that, but it was enough to get the idea across to the only person who could possibly aid him now. She had told him not to worry, but after coming to this realization, that was absolutely so far out of the question that he may as well be back on shore again.

 

[romancerper]

It's his injuries. Likely, something poisonous got to him.

What do I do, then? I'm no healer! How would I know the specific toxin? The words were panicked in her mind, directed at the Library as she quickly and carefully lowered Locke to the cushiony grass. He looked absolutely terrified by the revelation he had, and she didn't blame him for it. While she waited for an answer from her home, she did her best to provide some level of comfort for her human guest. "We'll figure this out. After all, I did promise that I would fix you up." She tried to give him an assuring grin, despite the fact she had no idea what she was doing.

Did you hear me? Her tone was short, even though Lyra never meant to be harsh. It was just difficult not to be when the only person from the outside world that she had had a conversation with--that she remembered--was quite literally dying in her arms.

Yes...I apologize. There is a way to save him, but...

But? This man will perish! He already doesn't look good at all. It was by no means a lie, either. Locke was almost as white as a cloud, and his breathing was haggard. He was working hard; one could tell by his chest's frantic movements as well as the soft wheeze she heard with each of his inhales.

I can extend his life for a little while longer, but it would require to tie your own life to his. Meaning, if you do not find and administer a cure to him within the next twenty-four hours, you both will die. There was a pause, and when It spoke again, there was a hint of emotion in Its voice. I won't lose you, dear one.

Lyra bit her bottom lip, eyes studying Locke's face for a moment before she let out a heavy sigh. I'll just have to make sure that you won't.

Are you certain? This man is a stranger. A hum--

Yes! I'm sure.

As you wish.

Then, all was silent, and after a few minutes had passed, Lyra considered speaking once more to the Library. Perhaps there was a ritual or something she had to do to do this binding between her own life and Locke's, but then...she felt it. A sudden wave of exhaustion that one might liken to the feeling after a night without rest.

It is done, and the cure you seek is not within these walls. You will both have to venture out onto the island and find a very specific flower. Suddenly, the image of a singular plant with six, pale pink petals flashed in Lyra's mind. They only grow by the waterfall. He should be able to go with you now that he has some of your energy keeping him alive.

That was news. Lyra hadn't expected to hear that Locke would be feeling better, let alone up to joining her outside the Library. He had, after all, just escaped it and was now fighting for his life because of it. Brining her attention to him, she asked, "How are you feeling now?"

 

[AndrewS]

This was all too far beyond his understanding to properly wrap his head around, especially in the physical state he was now in. Locke could barely move, let alone protest what was happening to him. Lyra seemed in contemplation, frozen, like she wasn't able to move, yet something was happening inside of him that he couldn't explain. A warmth, from within, covering him like a blanket. With it, he began to feel strength return to his body, flooding his limbs and unclouding his vision. The pounding in his head dulled, beat by beat, until he could no longer feel it, and until the natural light of the Library did nothing to sear his once-strained vision. In fact, he somehow felt better than he had before he even stepped foot on the island, before the fighting, and long before the poison.

She had done something. Or, perhaps, this place had.

"What just...?" He asked, confused, his voice breaking a little at first. He had been so exhausted, his mouth so dry from the poison, that he hadn't been expecting to be able to speak so clearly. He looked at Lyra for answers, but he wasn't sure if he would get any of them from her. She seemed to simply just ask how he was feeling, yet something was very, obviously off about this.

And what was more alarming was the way it felt when he took a step towards her.

There was a pull between them, almost magnetic. It certainly wasn't there before, but it definitely was now, like a subtle shift in gravity was trying to lean him into her direction, causing his posture to veer. A connection? Or a subconscious orbit towards the person who had supposedly saved his life? Did she feel any of this as well?

Still, more questions mounted, but the only things that seemed certain was that he felt much better and, suddenly, something inside of him wanted him to stay as close as possible to this elf-like stranger.

"I feel better. A lot better, actually." He told her, shaking his head, but his eyes still wide with curiosity aimed in her direction. "Lyra..., what did you do?" There were many more things to ask, and he knew it best to ask them one-by-one, but his eagerness to figure out what was going on overtook him. "I feel...strange. Not a bad strange, but just...strange." That was the only way he could describe it, and it yearned him to take another step forwards, towards her, and so he did. Suddenly, very little space remained between them, only a foot or so of separation existed to divide them.

 

[romancerper]

Lyra was relieved to hear and see that Locke was feeling better, even if she now felt worse than she had been a few moments ago. Whatever magic the library had used was definitely working, but like It had warned her, such magic had a cost associated with it. Fortunately, the only side effect Lyra was experiencing at the moment was this general but mild malaise throughout her body. It felt...heavier almost, as if some small portion of energy had been drained from her muscles, their strength a little less than usual.

It is your life force, Lyra. It is what is keeping you both alive, for now. But the more life force he loses, the more you do, too.

Well, that was both comforting and frightening at the same time. The Library had warned her that they only had twenty-four hours before the poison in Locke's body would be enough to kill the both of them, and if he was continually draining her of her life force to make up for his own disappearing, she had a sinking suspicion that they would both grow weaker as time passed, too.

"I'm keeping you alive for the time being, but...I can't forever," she began to explain to Locke, feeling a similar tug in his direction but not to the degree that he, apparently, did. Within moments of asking her what she had done, he was eliminating whatever space was between them, standing before her at a distance that would likely make most uncomfortable. However, Lyra, having hadn't had any social interaction with that of the mortal races in a long, long time, didn't even flinch when he came within a foot of her. She didn't even realize that his closeness had to do with the spell until the Library spoke up again.

It's part of the tie. His body subconsciously knows that you are what keeps its heart still beating, and therefore, it wishes to remain close to what is keeping it from perishing.

Lyra frowned a bit at this, hating to acknowledge the fact that Locke was, indeed, dying, and if they did not get moving soon, they both would end up losing their lives before sundown the next day. Feeling that urgency now, she lifted her hands to Locke's shoulders, her expression and tone both turning serious as she gazed up at him. "You can walk now. Do you think...you'd be well enough to venture with me outside the library?" She knew it was a big ask, given the fact they were in this predicament now because he had been roaming the island, very likely looking for the entrance to her home, and now that he was safely within its walls, she was telling him that they needed to go back out there. "The cure to your poison requires a flower that grows by the waterfall on this island. Did you happen to see or hear one while you were out there?"

Unfortunately, Lyra had not been outside the Library since she had first come to this island as a little girl, and while she had seen maps and read various books about the library as well as the island it sat upon, she had not committed them so much to memory that she could lead them to the waterfall they sought. She knew of its existence, but that was about it. If Locke knew something, it might save them the time of having to look for a map.

 

[AndrewS]

She was keeping him alive? That seemed quite the sacrifice to make for somebody she had barely just met. Even in his tired, and injured state, Locke was already mulling over the ramifications of this within his head. Things were lining up surprisingly well for him to take advantage of Lyra's kindness...but first, it appeared as though he wasn't quite out of hot water just yet. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten until he had practically bumped into her, leaving hardly an inch of space between them. When had that happened? It was like his body was unknowingly pulling itself closer without him giving the direct command.

There was something there. Some sort of tie, or binding. It was unseen, but he was smart enough to understand what it meant. She was telling the truth. She was keeping him alive, somehow, someway, using the essence of her own magic. It was a bond, and it was making his head feel funny. Had she always been this...attractive? Her eyes were staggering beautiful, like they possessed an otherworldly shade that he had never seen before. Her voice was sickeningly sweet, like honey straight from a hive. His eyes dropped, against his will once more, lingering over her lips, watching them as she spoke of the poison inside of his body.

"What...?" He asked, shaking his head, pulling him from whatever strange, hangover-like effect this spell was having on him. This was too much. He couldn't let it intoxicate him, he had a job to do, after all, and right now, his life depended on them finding some sort of...flower?

That was hardly the strangest thing he had heard, or experienced, on this island.

"I'm not sure?" He answered, shaking his head. "Nothing on this island is anything like the place I came from. All of the plants and flowers here are different to me. Do I also need to remind you that I barely made it here alive in the first place? I know you asked if I could go with you, but do you have any idea how dangerous it actually is outside of this place?"

Had she ever actually even been outside?

He tried to step away from her, but that magnetic pull kept him closer. Who was he kidding? If she wanted to go outside, he was following her, whether he liked it or not. A sigh passed Locke's lips as his eyes settled back onto hers. He refused to fall into their color again, at least, not like before. "Very well. But we must go prepared. Have you any weapons?" His father's sword was in no condition to fight any longer, after all. Unless she had some way of repairing it here in the library, they were either going unarmed, or she had best have some sort of weaponry stashed somewhere in this strange place.

 

[romancerper]

Lyra had noticed that he was looking at her rather strangely, different than how he had been looking at her before, but she attributed his behavior to the explanation the Library had given her. It was the spell that was making him want to be closer to her, so she couldn't really blame Locke, per se. Still, despite his stare making her slightly uncomfortable now--as she wasn't used to being under such scrutiny--Lyra didn't move, concerned he might suddenly pass out or collapse to the ground. He almost appeared out of it, but given the fact he had poison running through his veins at the moment, she supposed that was probably normal.

It was only when Locke began to speak as he had prior to the spell, sounding a bit more coherent, that she lowered her hands from his shoulders and crossed them over her chest. Bringing a finger to her chin, she thought for a moment about whether or not there were any weapons in the library. "Well, I have been outside once before..." she trailed off, hoping that might provide Locke some form of comfort, but she sincerely doubted it. It had been when she was but a child, and she didn't remember it all that well. Additionally, the creatures on this island would not hurt her, not when she was a Librarian and a descendent of the Ilearians. This probably wasn't common knowledge to the races, though, and she didn't know if her being with Locke on the island would offer him the same protections as well.

She also had a feeling that he wouldn't be the least bit keen about leaving without being armed, even if she did assure him that no harm would befall them.

"I am afraid I cannot think of a place within this library that houses weaponry. I am the only one who resides here, and I have been perfectly safe since I first came to be here," Lyra explained gently, her eyes returning to Locke's face as she blinked. "I know there is an ancient armory, but I do not remember there being anything within it." Granted, she hadn't explored the room in years now; she had no need to. There was a possibility that she had missed something, though. "I can lead you to it, but the spell to keep you alive will only last for twenty-four hours. It may be a waste of time to search for something we might not find."

Lyra didn't feel the need to mention that she, too, would perish at the twenty-four hour mark. He likely already felt some urgency for his own life, and she didn't want him to feel the added burden of her own.

 

[AndrewS]

The more he heard about their situation, the more concern Locke began to feel, though it still felt vaguely clouded by the way he was being drawn towards her. They were on a strict time line, and if what she said was true, it wouldn't even matter if they spent any of that time searching for weapons that otherwise didn't exist. He thought it odd that a place like this wouldn't hold some sort of form of defense, given its magical nature, and the myths that had been told of this place and how it was a popular visitation spot for Gods, supposedly, but he wasn't going to argue with someone who knew much more than he did. Besides, he wanted to stay on her good side for later...

"Very well, I trust your judgment. May I suggest something else instead then?" He began to pose a question, looking back at her with a glint of hope in his expression that was only partly him hamming it up and trying to act convincing. "There must be a way to repair my father's sword? Or strengthen it?" Locke asked, eyes dancing between Lyra and the damaged weapon he had used to fight his way to the Library's gate. "Why search for a weapon when we already have one? It hasn't let me down before, it's the last possession I have from my departed father...but it is currently in no state. Please, Lyra, you must be able to do something...?"

Locke was good. He knew just how to push the right buttons. Caught somewhere between the thrall of their connective spell, and the role he was trying to play, he managed to sound wholly genuine, and did so in a way that left the choice and responsibility up to her. Now, it was her decision to help him, and the sob story he attached to the weapon's sentiment definitely wasn't hurting his case. Would the concept of family ring true in the same manner for somebody who wasn't human in the same sense as he was? Locke hoped it would be enough to sway her. In his mind, not only would a weapon strengthened by this place serve as a good means to defend them while they seeked to save his life, but it would also give him an out should things not exactly go the way he planned with Lyra. After all, he was here for that book.

 

[romancerper]

Lyra glanced over at the sword, her teeth finding her bottom lip as her brow furrowed. The blade was dull, from what she could see, and sullied with dried blood, and it was also Locke's father's sword. She imagined that it meant a great deal to him because why else would he carry it? She brought her gaze back to Locke's face, his act convincing enough to fool her into thinking that he really was hopeful that something could be done about the weapon. Unfortunately, Locke probably thought that it was she that could do something; after all, if he thought she was the one who possessed the magic to keep him alive for the next twenty-four hours, then no doubt she had the power to sharpen even the dullest of blades.

The armory has the tools he would need to sharpen. They are old, but...better than nothing.

Lyra knew what the Library was talking about. She remembered there being a grinding wheel and a whetstone. Perhaps there were files and something to hone the sword with, as both were part of the process of properly sharpening a blade.

"I am afraid the only thing I can offer you are the tools to fix it yourself," she whispered with a sigh, her brow pinching further together in guilt, for she wished that she could just magically fix it for him. "I can lead you to the armory. There, you should have everything you need. My only fear is their age."

She stepped passed him, already heading in the direction they would need to go in. After taking a few steps, she stopped and turned to look at him. "It is this way."

It shouldn't take them too long to get there, as it was more to the north side of the Library, but not so far that they would have to venture to the northern most tip. In fact, they need only walk straight down the corridor, through the hall of antiquities, past the treasury, make a right and then a left. Simple. Not more than a ten minute walk.

"Perhaps, while you sharpen it, I can look for a map of this island. This way, we won't wander aimlessly on the island and, instead, head straight for the waterfall," she told him, trying to offer a reassuring smile. Lyra knew that none of this was ideal, but life hardly ever was. Besides, this was the most exciting thing she had to work through in a while.

 

[AndrewS]

Locke found a moment of pause when Lyra offered him only the tools required. There was a slight feeling of disappointment, as though he had wanted to use this as an opportunity to see more of what she, and this Library, were capable of. He didn't let it show in his expression, which remained grateful regardless, not giving any hint that he was displeased with the outcome of his question.

When she started leading him, he realized that it wasn't nearly as disappointing as he thought.

Traveling through this place filled him with such a strange feeling. It was equal parts wonder and unease, like he was stepping through a place where he shouldn't. For a place that was known as a Library, he was surprised by how much of it was very distinctly not. There were books, but this place was so much more. It was if somehow, all of the stories and legends passed into myth were true and yet, so far off base at the exact same time.

Even though they had clearly walked for several minutes, it felt as though a blink of an eye had passed. The passage opened up into a larger room as he nodded alongside her suggestion. Tools were scattered as small, blue lanterns illuminated themselves as if by magic due to their presence. There were many tools, some decrepit and others in much finer condition. He recognized many of them, having been schooled on a variety of different arts by his father during his time as a mercenary with him, but there were apparatuses within this room that he had never so much as laid eyes on.

"How did all of this end up here?" He asked her, curiously. How did this place even come to be? It wasn't like there were humans around to build it. Sure, there were the Gods, but some one particular had to build or create this place. And since Lyra clearly wasn't one for the outside world, she certainly wasn't keeping it populated with all of these antiquated items.

He sat his eyes on a whetstone and picked it up, giving it a once over. It would do. "I can manage. Do you need help with your search for a map?" He asked, expecting her to say no and leave him to his own devices with his sword...a perfect chance to snoop around, he thought, unaware of this place's apparent sentience.