So after a quick morning workout, he set out with map in hand to find the library. The majority of the trip there proved uneventful, despite the blustery weather and biting cold endemic to winter, but thus far no one of either powered persuasion caused mischief en route. At one point he suspected a show may ensue when an inexperienced biker wobbled on the sidewalk and nearly rocketed in front of a bus, but it was not to be.
Upon arriving at the library, Shale was immediately lost to the Dewey decimal system held in place, and found himself wandering the sections for a solid hour before he could locate books of historical value. In the process, he discovered every genre from fantasy to horror to do-it-yourself to philosophy, and only in the last sections nearing architecture and art did he finally locate history. Within he found mostly world history, but as he approached the back wall, local texts were available along with a sign indicating that newspaper articles were accessible through the computer systems up at the front. Shale loaded his arms with a mix of recent and older texts before he approached the tables where the computers were set up.
After laying out his array of books next to the keyboard, Shale took a seat in one of the wooden chairs next to the large oak table and delved into the first text at hand - a worn paperback novel concerning political intrigue in Destiny City. Most of the foreword seemed entirely dry and he cared little for information on the author, but after forcing his way through the bland beginnings, he managed to discover useful information.
This is helping, but it's not what I need. Something more recent would be of better use. Maybe those newspaper articles... Yet Shale lacked savvy knowledge of computers, which caused him to shy away from plumbing the files for pertinent articles. Instead he remained with one sleeveless arm braced against his cheekbone and the other idly thumbing the pages while he struggled to stay awake through the length of the political dissertation.
However, a half hour's time left him slowly leaning forward until his nose met the crease between the pages and his hair spilled out over the surface of the book.
She was so behind… three weeks off planet meant three weeks of notes and homework undone, with a test upcoming that needed to be studied for. On top of that, there was a paper due by the end of the semester she had wanted to get a jump on research for… and it all added up to a staggering amount of work that made her seriously consider going back to Ida until next semester. Too bad she couldn’t really justify it. She’d had her escape, spent her time healing… it was time to get back to life, a life that wasn’t going to wait for her.
Orah shifted her armful of books as she reached for yet another. The title down the spine matched the one neatly penned on the list in her hand and she let it fall with a thump on her pile. Ugh… it was getting unwieldy and heavy already, and this wasn’t even everything she needed to reference yet. The young woman sighed softly as she shifted yet again. Okay so, maybe it would be better to set this bunch down first, rather than attempt all of them at once. She was going to be here for a while, no sense straining something…
Despite it being fairly early in the day, when Orah came out from between the shelves, it was still fairly crowded in the city library. Not really surprising, considering it was the middle of spring semester… it was a sure thing that students from all schools were deep into school work that required books and work time in a quiet space. Brown eyes swept the open tables, but to her disappointment, every single one had at least one occupant. This meant sharing, unless she wanted to retreat back to the apartment… an unappealing idea with all these books to carry.
There… a table off to the side with a sole occupant. It would serve, provided the stranger didn’t mind sharing. Weaving her way through the shelves and tables, Orah looked over the dark head of hair as she approached. It wasn’t obvious at first, but when the young woman got within a few feet, it became apparent there was… something off about this man. Was he… asleep? It seemed so, with his head down on his book, but it was hard to tell past the bush of hair that hid his face and even the book under him. Feeling shy, Orah reached out and touched her fingers gently to his shoulder, applying a little pressure to make herself known. Hopefully…
“Um, excuse me? Can I share your table?” She said as she withdrew her hand, watching for signs of stirring.
Shale roused to soft touch turned firm, and a deep breath was taken while he slowly righted himself. One tattooed hand combed through his hair to sweep back the mane, which revealed the girl who sought his attentions. For several seconds afterward, he did not fully process her words. Only after a few blinks to clear the sleep from his eyes did he finally manage to speak. “You can. And thank you.”
My time here serves no purpose if I sleep until the doors close.
Glancing at her burden, he noticed a profusion of books cradled in her arms with subjects ranging from anatomy and physiology to more mundane texts like an algebra textbook or a impossibly worn and crumpled copy of Beowulf for assigned reading. He wondered what purpose she had for sifting through so many seemingly unrelated subjects. What mystery could spur a mind to search both the human body and old texts whose authors perished an untold time ago? And in a moment after wondering, it occurred to him that higher education might call for such things. Immediately afterward, he felt rather stupid for not catching it the first time.
He brushed the thought from his mind and attempted to return his attentions to the political scandals that formed Destiny City, but no information came of it. Even in reading a sentence for the third time, he garnered no knowledge from it. Finally he abandoned the efforts and sought to rub the sleep from his eyes instead.
Slate would have this done by now. Otherwise it would be far easier with his assistance. This city is so different from my own. I’m not certain I can weather the differences when my heart still yearns for home. It’s disappointing, and a waste of Negaverse resources. No senshi showed their face from whence I came.
“You look like you need a lot of space. I can vacate the table,” he offered. There’s no point in my being here if I can’t digest what I read.
He rose up like coming back from the dead, his face heavy with sleep, and she blinked at the eye-catching red tattoos wrapping the hand in his hair. Combined with his thick mane, his bare arms gave him a distinctly wild appearance that fit poorly in the studious atmosphere of the library.
“Ah… thanks. And you’re welcome…” Was he thanking her for asking, or for waking him up? It was hard to tell and she watched him from under her lashes as she chose a seat at the opposite corner of the table. The books made a solid thump as they hit the wood top, making a more impressive stack than she had realized she carried. This was going to be a chore… and again, she thought fondly of Ida’s sun-warmed meadows and the feel of dirt between her fingers. The memory alone was soothing, easing her dislike of the upcoming task as she hung her messenger bag over the back of her chair.
Maybe this weekend, if she worked hard and made progress, she could justify a pair of days in escape. She hadn’t even been back yet since the message had come in on her senshi phone… half a month worth of supplies were still there, her bedroll still out in the open field. Not that it would probably hurt anything to leave everything out, considering she still hadn’t seen it rain, but it just felt… untidy, when she planned to be gone for a while.
So engrossed in her daydreaming, Orah actually started when the man at the table spoke again, completely forgetting she wasn’t alone here. She blinked at him, wide-eyed, for a moment before she shook it off, settling her books into two neat and fairly even piles.
“Oh, um… no, that’s fine. You were here first, I don’t want to chase you away from your table. I just needed a place to put all of this… I have a few more I need to get.” She said as she unnecessarily straightened her piles, her fingers running down the spines, mentally checking off her list. Her eyes strayed to the books he had chosen and the collection of local history was… strange. He didn’t particularly look like someone who spent a lot of time reading, but she could be wrong, she supposed. Was he a history buff? Was this for a class? One or the other was the most likely reason… anything else seemed far fetched.
Shale watched her unblinkingly. Her mind strayed, he knew, based on the thousand yard stare donned for a few moments. “It would be a waste of effort. The library has a closing time, and you have many books to comb in that span.” Does everyone work themselves to death in this city? First the man who passed out running, and now this girl with her weight in books. These people make no sense to me.
“It begets no favors to wear yourself too thin.” To prove his point, Shale shut the text he worked on previously, knowing full well he could not discern any more from it. Afterward he pushed it aside in favor of the computer, though he simply stared at it for several long moments as he tried to deduce how to operate it. Unfortunately the devices were not built with old-style intuition in mind. If she visits the library often, she may be a good resource for operating the computer. Assuming they’re commonplace. These may be as rare as a white stag for all I know.
But she has so much to do. What time has she to spare for my questions? I suppose she could always say no, but I don’t trust that the people of this city put themselves before others.
“Do you know anything about these computers?” He ventured while his fingers traipsed idly across the keys. To say I’m not familiar with them would state the obvious. I hope she can infer that much… Especially if she possesses more environmental awareness than the lot who roam the streets at night.
The words were spoken innocently, but they made Orah’s shoulders slump as she sighed gustily. This seemed to be a reoccuring theme… people thinking she worked too hard, telling her she should treat herself better. Like she didn’t know her own limits, or what she needed to do to keep up her strength. Though… they were right, it seemed. Isn’t that why she’d fled to Ida in the first place? Because she pushed too hard and couldn’t handle it?
“It can’t be helped.” She said finally, shoving the thick length of her braid back over her shoulder. “I’m going to have to take these all home anyway, there is too much to do before closing. I went… on vacation and I’m behind in my classes.”
Not that he really needed to know that… it was unlikely that he cared about the trivial details of her life. He didn’t know her, there was no reason to care beyond idle curiosity. Even that didn’t last long as he closed his book and shifted to the computer, seemingly dismissing her as his fingers touched keys. It took her by surprise then, when he suddenly spoke, supposedly to her since there was no one else around. Orah resisted the urge to glance around to make sure, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears.
“Computers? Yeah, I’ve used them before. Are you looking for something specific? I can help, if you’d like.” Her head tilted to the side and she resisted the urge to peek around to catch a look at his screen, figuring it would probably be rude to do so. Helping him seemed more interesting than studying… she could put off the work for a little bit, since she’d have to take it home anyway.
It can’t be helped. I used to tell myself the same. We are slaves to our own minds. And I had to excise my own shackles years ago. I wonder when you’ll sever yours.
“It is appreciated. I am looking for newspaper articles.” However, the computer still showed the sleep screen, having not been cleared with the space bar. Instead the default screen saver patterned across black, sending out shifting tendrils that shone in different colors every few seconds. Shale appeared completely clueless about its operation, and made no attempts to hide his computer illiteracy. Instead he shifted gaze to her to watch her work.
And the ease by which she brought it out of slumber perplexed him slightly. If I knew I would have to move here, I would have tried to learn of these things. Instead I spent my time outdoors and engaged in trials which are of no use here. Am I cast out? Is this a test? I cannot know.
During the silence, he found himself breaking the spell with his own words, softly spoken and seldom shared. “I used to push myself too. It nearly killed me.” But what would come of my saying that the body is the mind’s most devoted servant? It’s too difficult to predict the responses in this city, and I find no use in attracting attention to myself. But is silence paying homage to my beliefs? No. “You will find no greater servant than your own body. It would die for you. Don’t kill it to learn that.”
Orah came around the table to view the screen when he offered, reaching out naturally to shake the mouse and wake the computer up out of its sleep mode. News paper articles? That wasn’t too hard… they had a whole system for it… The mouse pointer tracked across the screen to the appropriate icon and she double clicked it, pulling up the program with its antiquated looking interface. It felt like no one ever bothered updating the graphics for things like this, despite the advances made in things like websites and apps. Maybe a case of ‘if its not broke don’t fix it’? Just not caring enough to shell out the money to update something that worked fine the way it was.
She set the cursor in the search box and released the mouse, hesitating when the stranger spoke again. Her fingers curled into her palm as she pulled it back to her stomach, her lips pinching at the corners.
“Its okay.” She said, rolling her shoulders dismissively. “I’m not going to push myself too hard. I know where my limits are.”
The young woman waved at the screen, her expression easing. “Speaking of… you were asleep when I found you, which maybe hints I’m not the only one pushing things?” She said lightly. Her mouth had eased enough to even quirk up a little at the corners. “You can type in what you want to search for in that box, but maybe we could both use a break from studying. I know a coffee place nearby… would you like to come with? I think the caffeine would be beneficial to us both. Oh! And my name is Orah.”
”Maybe it does.” Shale offered a shrug before his attention turned to the screen now displaying some kind of layout akin to a desk, and a newspaper laid out across the surface. He wasn’t certain what she meant by search bar, but he leaned in close to the screen in an attempt to discern the lettering on the newspaper. Unfortunately, he knew nothing of place saver graphics, or that he needed to query his search before he could read anything of merit.
Right. Coffee. I must be exhausted if I cannot read the newspaper here. Finally he reclined in his chair and shifted his attentions to her, with one long index finger pressed against his temple while his elbow rested on the arm of the chair. “I was wrong about you.” And gladly so. It’s a welcome surprise to know that someone in this city is aware of their own needs. It seems an exceedingly rare occurrence. Slate would scoff and chide me, if he were here now. But daydreams of his candor serve me for nothing.
“Coffee sounds fine. I doubt our books will be returned to their shelves.” Unless others come along and pillage them. He stood slowly and arched his back to pop the strains of bad posture borne from sleeping atop books. He froze a moment while he considered what customs might be sanctioned with greeting someone else, and upon realizing he hadn’t any idea, he abandoned the search altogether. He would perform the customs that came natural, and if that warranted aversion or revulsion, then such antics would only cause her discomfort rather than himself.
“Shale,” he returned, offering a spread palm. The animal skull insignia needled into his palm never received a warm welcome, so the greeting was stunted and curt.
“Show me the way, if you will. I need to learn more of this city.”
It was odd how he leaned in, as though short sighted. Was he… trying to read the newspaper graphic? The thought only lasted a moment before he pulled her attention back to him and she found his eyes on her, giving her a look that made her feel weirdly warm. Wrong about me? She felt heat rise in her cheeks and she shifted, turning away to take the mouse and close out the search program as he rose.
When Orah turned back, it was to watch him stretch and she couldn’t stop a look up and down, knowing she was a little wide-eyed about it. The lack of sleeves was odd in winter… she herself had a sweater dress and leggings to account for cold, but maybe it was not so odd on him with his full sleeve tattoos. You get that much body art and you wanted to show it, right? It had prompted her own shift in lower necklines after she’d set the celtic knot into her sternum. When he offered her his hand, she dragged her eyes down his arm and blinked at the skull, though she chose not to comment on it right at the moment. All of him looked sort of… wild, it probably wasn’t surprising he’d get a skull as body art. She wondered if it was symbolic of something, or just a look he liked.
“Nice to meet you, Shale.” She repeated as she took his hand in what she assumed was a typical hand shake, giving him a firm squeeze before she released him. The young woman swept up her bag as she passed, slipping it over her head so the bag itself bounced on her hip, the strap cutting across her chest. The coffee shop wasn’t far… they shouldn’t be gone too long and hopefully that meant she wouldn’t have to hunt down her books all over again.
“Are you a student?” Orah ventured as they walked, trying for a safe topic of conversation so they didn’t walk awkwardly in silence.
The handshake felt entirely awkward, but he supposed it a part of the culture she came from. It would be something to get used to, and he made note of it for future introductions. Afterward he followed her at a smooth clip belying his surefootedness that he gleaned from years of hunting. Hands shifted to pockets where the tattooed hands hid, with nothing marking their presence there but the leather bracelets that clacked together with each step.
“I’m not a student.” Inwardly he mulled over whether to share more of his coming to Destiny City, and how much of that explanation may tread over the lines of secrecy so hallowed by the Negaverse. By the time they passed the set of desks where various librarians sat to complete checkout of books, he elected on a lighter and much more obscure version of events. “I’m not from here. I’m trying to learn the lay of the land. It’s not a straightforward task.” Sight and sound used to be enough, and familiarity with my surroundings. Now it seems there’s far more to this place than knowing which buildings lie where or what stock of prey inhabits these halls.
For once, I am lost.
They brushed past the doors, and the large cup painted onto a placard signified the coffee shop loudly enough. It stood out as a cream colored cup on a green background, where it sat framed above a striped awning that covered its entry. It sat hardly more than several yards’ pacing from their location. Is her comment to imply that she herself is a student? Or was it deduction based on my choice of books? I would ask of the insignia on her chest but that invites queries that need no answer right now.
“Are you a student, then? You did not choose light reading as most others.” But perhaps you find no love for burying your sensibilities in fantasy. I wonder why reality is so hard for these people to face.
This was a far more comfortable topic than her lack of care for herself and Orah settled into the small talk. This was easy… she could do this. She used to do it a lot, it was just a matter of calling up that bit of her old self.
“Destiny City is pretty big, it can be hard to find your way around.” Though, if he’d really wanted to know what was where, a map easily purchased at any gas station or convenience store would have served him better… Maybe, rather, he meant more of the political or social environment. He’d been reading up on local history, but she wasn’t sure how any of that would be relevant to local happenings in the current day and age. The newspapers would be better for more current things. Poor guy… she couldn’t help but feel like he had really gotten himself into deeper water than he was prepared for. Monsters and people in magical uniforms was a lot more than the normal person was prepared to deal with.
Orah led the way through the front door of the shop, pushing the door open and holding it till he was through as well. The rich smell of coffee and baking pastries greeted her nose, soothing and warm as the atmosphere of the place with its rich brown furniture in leather and wood.
“Mmm? Oh, yeah, I’m a student.” She said as she pulled her attention back to him and away from thoughts of food. She offered a smile as she stepped towards the counter, already digging into the top flap of her bag for her money. “I’m working on a nursing associates, so I can get my liscence. Light reading would probably be more enjoyable than dry anatomy books, but its part of learning so it has to be done.” Thankfully it was not as dry the second time around… she remembered how hard it had been the first time to memorize all the parts. She had not taken naturally to her field, despite how things had turned out and her desire to serve people. It had taken stubborn persistence and a lot of hard work… but it meant that now it often felt more like refreshing her memory than relearning things, thankfully. Losing all of it had been enough of a crushing blow.
Hopefully, when it came to actual hands on work, she could escape her reactions to blood and injury as easily. She’d worked hard to train herself out of gagging at the smell or getting queasy at the sight of running blood.
”I’ve noticed,” he responded as he passed through the open door. It’s big enough to encompass everything I’ve ever dreamed and more. And somewhere in here I am to pursue our enemies and exact our keep. I cannot do so with no bearings. “There may be signs marking every establishment, but they tell no stories. The blood of the city remains a mystery.” And I know no other way to describe it - the vitality lends these dead bones their character. Maybe it is not the map of the city I seek, but the topography of its people. Otherwise, I would be left to dance among ghosts.
He offered the menu a scanty measure of his attention while she explained her disposition as a student. It sounded more interesting than the board loaded with unfamiliar combinations of drink and dessert. The corner of his mouth twitched as he realized that each specialty coffee looked every bit as foreign as the next.
She’s learning the human body and all the mysteries within. A useful pursuit. Perhaps I should do the same if I am to lend myself to the Negaverse, or seek her counsel. And if too many questions arise?
I know precisely where she borrowed those texts.
“Then I hope there is a body for every book you must consult.” The comment earned a bewildered glance from one of the baristas, a flame-haired girl with a smattering of freckles. He paid her no mind. Afterward he ordered a straight coffee with no garnishes, absent whip or creamers or even tablespoons of sugar to wring out the bitterness. After paying in cash, he was instructed to the side to await arrival of his beverage, where he leaned against the counter with arms folded.
He followed up his comment after she received her own drink, and they were left to ferret out one of the narrow, rounded tables that rocked slightly with any amount of pressure. “Why nursing? Does it have something to do with…” What can it possibly be called? A war? Insurgence? Should I name it here? “The high death rates here?” Or a passion. Or a preordained path. We each possess preternatural aptitude for at least one aspect of our lives. This may well be hers, as hunting is mine.
Uncanny how we often meet partners of death.
His phrasing was odd, but then, every time he spoke she was struck by his unique phrasings. The blood of the city? It seemed like he meant the heart of it, maybe, the soul. In a city as large as this one, she expected it took years of living in it to really grasp that. She felt it, but then she’d lived here most of her life… and even then, what had she really known about the true heart of this city, before she was given her henshin pen?
“I think you’ll find it…” Orah hazarded as she rolled her shoulders loosely. “But it’ll take time. Kind of like getting to know a person, you have to explore a bit before you see it all.” And just like a person, there were hidden things you didn’t see unless they wanted you to see it. She knew that first hand, didn’t she?
The drink Orah ordered was far fancier than what Shale had asked for… white chocolate cappuccino. She was certain he’d think it sickeningly sweet, but whatever. Bitter had never been a flavor she had enjoyed, and he wasn’t the one drinking it… The young woman followed him to the pick up counter, offering back a confused sort of smile at his wishing for bodies. She could only think that he must mean something about a life saved for each book, like return for all her hard work. It made more sense than dead bodies for each.
The question about why was an easy one, but the quick answer died in her mouth as he brought up the death rates. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the other half of her life and her expressive eyes closed up, her face hardening to something sterner. Older. She knew more about death rates than she cared to.
“No, its…” She waved a hand, trying to find a way to explain. “My father runs a flower shop and I grew up working it with him, but I sort of came to realize that while its honest work and it makes people happy, I wanted to do something more substantial. If that makes sense? I like taking care of people, its what I feel I’m good at, so I thought becoming a nurse would be a way for me to make other people’s lives better. Something worthwhile I could do, more worthwhile than selling flowers.” She really wasn’t sure he would understand that. A lot of people didn’t get her need to help others to the degree she felt it. No one really seemed to understand, but she’d sort of accepted that no one ever would.
Settling at the table in one of the round little chairs, Orah set her elbows on the wobbly top and wrapped slender fingers around her cup, warming the digits with its heat. Not as slender as she remembered, thankfully. One small boon. Her lips pursed as she bent to blow across the top of the hot liquid, refraining from drinking it straight off.
Bluefire Dragonz
i will drop my response in the next post
