The Library

**Jesse** Sat Feb 25, 2012 7:36 am

If one were to walk through the halls of the old surfside research, they may pass over the old wrought iron gates that locked one of the doors in chains. But these chains hung down from the giant double doors with the gold and silver entwining along the ornate handle and upwards like vines into bronze ornaments and whatnot. Usually, by day, these doors were closed. It took someone with 'The Key' to open this door. Or else they must contribute the blood offering. At the walls there hung morbid paintings, by Botticelli specifically and his interpretations of 'Inferno'. By night however, the halls were dimly lit by gas lamps, the shadows thrown into grotesque shapes. The doors were open at the night time. And inside was the Librarian.

Jesse the Librarian, career of the books, taker of knowledge, holder to the route of species and kinds. She sat to the left at her ornate desk, her mortal by her side. This mortal she had so rightly named: Mortal. Mortal was old, older than most immortals here and had minimal power. He was partially bald with a few long strands of hair coming forth from his flaking scalp. The clothes he wore were old and moth eaten, Victorian era style with their ruffled collars and long tails coats. He hadn’t changed these clothes since he came to The Library as a young mortal man. Mortal helped The Librarian when need be, as she never moved. She only sat, watching, reading, and sometimes moving about among her precious books to see that they were in the correct places. He walked with a limp, hunched over in his years. Even he had a layer of dust over himself which he never brushed away from the broken clothing. His nails were yellow; his teeth rotted away, a sneer upon his face at all times as he looked down his hawk like nose at anyone who entered. Tall though he was, he never stood to full height. Mortal in ways, Mortal in name.

The desk at which she sat was dust covered and musty, the stacks off books towering so that when one wanted to talk to this immortal being, the stacks had to be adjusted and moved. The books were old, powerful with their own secrets and magic. Dark in the ways of witch craft and evil. There were good books also, hidden among the evil. Castoffs at the back.

Shelves layered and controlled this place. To the very three story ceiling there were shelves upon shelves of books that sometimes never moved. These shelves went backwards into the great Library, backwards in and out of existence. Books were aplenty, from mortal writings to the oldest of texts. Each were sectioned, labled on the isles at which books were where. These books started off with the mortal writings, and further back on the higher and darker shelves, there lay the immortal tales.

In glass cases there were the most important books, guide books, tales and witnesses. Books about immortality, magic and witchcraft. Books that contained knowledge so powerful only The Librarian could reach within the enchanted glass to take these books to the one who had requested them, which The Librarian had not done in years.

Layers of Dust covered everything from the most read books to the very oldest Tran scriptures or ancient Egypt in hieroglyphic images. The books that were most evil had themselves chambers, three at the very back of the library, dimly lit by gas lamps that were everywhere. Candles and wax were on every free table were more and more books were stacked and piled. The evil ones were bound in chains, never to be revealed again to mortality. They were chained in with the most iridescent of items including such items as Pandora's box. Even that wasn’t the most evil thing within.

So there we have it. The Library and The Librarian, The Mortal in his corner with the silent Librarian ready to direct him with a whisk of her hand. The Librarian and her Library, never looking up from her books.

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