Ye Olde S33k & Finde

[fr33ks33k]

*eyes that grin of his*

Good. Busy. You?

Good as well.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Good as well.

Awesome. That's good to know.

*kisses his cheek and fades into the ether for now. Her soft voice can still be heard*

Just checking up on you, Fr33k.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Written in a journal etched with faerie runes. Aisle 62, Middle Shelf.

The autumn sun has turned the leaves a faded crimson; his breath upon the column of her neck has left her chest a mimicked red. The air is crisp and sharp with each inhale; his fingers' trails have left a sprawl of gooseflesh in their wake.
The oaken pillar that supports their secret tryst is sturdy; his own pillar rigid as they share their lust. The woods bear witness to the blooming of their union, seed sown now seeping like sap betwixt thighs. Their eyes meet, full of fire and mischief. Their hearts pound, exertion and excitement in equal measure. A breeze blows, stirring her hair and those few leaves strewn across the forest floor. His smile is warm and hungry. She grins and guides him back for more and more...until the sun is setting, til both are spent and fully sore. As the final rays of the equinox fade, they depart their hidden forest slowly strolling, souls and fingers interlocked.

 

[fr33ks33k]

*It had been so long since he'd visited....yet everything was still as it always was. The heavy front door groaned as he pushed his way in past the never-ending pile of junk mail. The fanfare of tinny hoots and noises heralded his approach to the oaken counter. He greeted the clockwork animals and set his umbrella in the stand beside the register, scooping up a few of them and setting them on his shoulders as he continued on into the building. It was time he went exploring. Something had drawn him back...it was best to find out what.*

 

[RainingHeat]

It was dark, dark and dusty. Shadows lay claim to any surface that the light did not defend, and those were many surfaces. But despite the fact that the place had been empty? for so long.. Empty.. was it really empty? Was anyplace really empty that held memories and scribblings of imagination. That held descriptions, and writings, openings to one's fantastic and erotic and exceeding deep thoughts, dreams, nightmares, stories, imaginings...

Had he awakened? Would he open the mirrored orbs of his eyes to explore this place once more? Would he "dip in a toe" so to speak, or perhaps become immersed. The imagination must be exercised, or it will atrophy. Exercise expands, strengthens, allows one's thoughts and dreams to break free and fly, wings unfurled, into the dark, or the lightened, sky, depending on the mood... or the "weather" that day... that night...

She, herself, had only just allowed her own crystal emeralds that mimicked her eyes, to open. Had it been weeks? Months? Or mere hours? Her own dreams, her own nightmares, her own lusts were now beiginning to roam free. Could she accompany him? Would he accompany her?

Adventure, that had such a nice ring to it. Although, it may be obvious that an adventurous dream to one, could be terrifying nightmare to another.

As she sat, cross legged, in the shadow, having found a corner where the sun, the light, could not penetrate, save the gleam in her eye, she awaited... Would he awaken?

 

[fr33ks33k]

*The rear entry for the shop had rarely been used. Deliveries, often left mysteriously and spirited away into the stacks by unseen forces, and shipments handled similarly. Today he found himself deciding to avoid the usual fanfare of his arrival by slowly tugging the chain that raised the creaking metal door to the loading dock. The grinding of metal left unlubricated echoed into the building and along the vacant lots next to the shop. He winced as the sound rang out.*

So much for a sneaky entrance...

*Fortunately, he found no alarm raised with the other denizens of the shop as he stooped to enter below the half-raised door. He hastily closed it and made his way through the darkened maze of warehouse shelving. Whereas the front of the shop held things on display, eager to be examined, these shelves held mystery upon mystery. Boxes with labels in strange glyphs, crates marked with Latin warnings, a few nondescript shapes that could have been garbage bags full to bursting with...something. As he strode along, the skylights that riddled the store's ceiling became more frequent, letting in shafts of sun to bathe the scene. He walked for some time before the scenery began to shift, from cold storage to lukewarm display. The items here were perhaps more odd than those at the front. Things that should hold certain shapes wavered as if uncertain they were what they appeared to be. A crystalline skull seemed to melt as he approached, becoming a glassy platter. As he peered into it, he saw his own face superimposed with what was presumably his skeletal visage. His eyes narrowed as he stared. He almost didn't realize his hand reaching for the platter until his fingers were a whisper away from it. He shook himself from his reverie and saw just the hint of a scowl on his bony reflection as he turned and kept on toward the center of the shop. Strange things and stranger happenings, always abounded here.

The center of the shop was a sprawling rotunda, draped in tapestries of different eras hung at even intervals. They displayed battles and empires, fields of alien flowers, maps of unknown star systems, lines of poetry and prose of myriad topics. At the core stood a pedestal. On the pedestal; a tome as ancient as anything that could still hold physical form. Perhaps older. The pages were opened and the writing within glowed with a pale green light, seeming to pulsate in a mimicry of ones heartbeat. Seeing the book brought a smile to the corners of his mouth. It had been far too long since he'd read the words. Perhaps this was what had drawn him in through the back, a need to find the book in solitude and read from it, refilling his soul's battery before facing a return to the relative normalcy of the place. He stepped solidly up to the pedestal, placing a hand at either side of the lectern. His eyes scanned the opened pages and fell upon a single line, which he read aloud.*

Whatever it is you seek, it will find you.

*It was a simple phrase, but one he found solace in. His smile widened as the words on the page beat their steady rhythm. He read the next lines, his voice beginning to echo into the rounded space.*

Whatever finds you, welcome it with open arms. For Fate is ever entwined with Truth, and both of them shall guide you.
Trust in Fate and trust in Truth, the twins of Life and Death.
And by their light, walk this path until your final breath.

*The last word brought a sharp inhale, the words flashing brighter for an instant, as though invigorated by his reading. For that instant, he saw nothing but an expanse of stars; planets twirling, novae bursting and receding. He thought for a moment he might go blind with the brightness before him. Then everything settled, the verdant glow of the tome returning to its previous state. He felt his cheeks begin to ache from the width of his grin and relaxed his face, though the corners of his mouth still held a slight upturn. He stepped away from the lectern, feeling his heart beating in time to the tome's pulsation. A level of energy he hadn't felt in some time flowed through him, filling every extremity. He wandered off into the stacks once more, this time with a spring in his step.*

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She hesitated outside the door, trying to peer in through the front window. This shop, she swore, had a mind of it's own. She had been here many a time before but it had been some time since her last visit and she wasn't sure what had kept her away. She loved roaming the stacks, pulling out books and browsing them. Fr33k also had these little oddities stashed all over the place. It was like.... being on a treasure hunt and finding something and even now, with her hand on the doorknob, she wondered why she hesitated. So, taking a soft breath in and letting it out slowly, she opened the door and heard that faint soft tinkle of some chime she had never been able to locate, damn him. With a grin, she stepped through the portal, letting the door close behind her with a soft whoosh....

 

[fr33ks33k]

*He looked up from the trinket he had been examining as a tinny hoot echoed above him. It sounded somewhere between a doorbell and a windchime, and he smiled as the clockwork owl alit on a shelf near him. It cocked its head to the side, wings whirring as they flapped.*

Hello old friend. It seems you've come to tell me there's a customer. I really shouldn't have expected any less from this place. Well, let's go see who it is.

*He set the trinket, a rhomboid with filigreed facets, back into its display stand. As he did, the shape twisted and converted into a globe, the gilded sides smoothing into a perfect orb. The owl hooted once more and took wing, heading in the general direction of the front counter. Since he was traveling terrestrially, he wound his way in the same direction though much less directly.*

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

A small feminine form slips quietly inside and loses herself amongst the stacks, her feet and legs bare to the summer heat. Dark auburn and silver curls dance across her forehead as a honeyed gaze sweeps from left to right, taking in all of the things she hadn't been aware she'd miss when she left, long and long ago. Maybe he'd find her, maybe he wouldn't...but she knew her scent would linger- vanilla, sandalwood and cinnamon- long after she was gone.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She was looking for a good book to read and was slowly winding her way among the stacks. Hearing the owl, she softly chuckled, having forgotten about...certain things. It was nice to know that some things didn't change. She gave pause once, lifting her head to gently sniff the air. Ahhhh. The She Wolf, if she wasn't mistaken. It was a unique scent she had never forgotten. Luna must have come to pay a visit to Fr33k as well. With a lifted fingertip, she made a soft circle in the air until a portal appeared, she slipped through it, vowing to return another day. She'd leave the two friends to catch up.

 

[fr33ks33k]

*As he walked, he felt a sudden pressure, like a balloon being squeezed. It made him stop midway down an aisle lined with fancy vases, each inscribed with a rune from a long-dead language. They seemed to hum from within as he stood, head tilted slightly to the side as he listened for an accompanying pop. None came, though the pressure faded just as quickly as it had arrived. The owl hooted and swooped down to land on his shoulder*

Hm...it appears the guest has left, though through perhaps unconventional means. Wouldn't be the first time...

*He trailed off as he continued down the aisle, the intermittent skylights streaming their bounty into the space between shelves. Continuing down this path led to a smaller rotunda, this one filled with antique machinery. Their purposes were as unknown as their constructors, but each gleamed in the light pouring in from above. Over the smell of lubricant oils and metal, he caught a familiar aroma. His lips curled, revealing just the hint of teeth behind. He would never forget such a scent.*

Ah, well as one guest departs, another has come. Let's see if we can find her.

*The owl let out one more tinny hoot as he took the leftmost path out of the machine displays. Even in a maze such as this, he was certain he could follow his nose and meet up with her. There was much to catch up on, he was sure.*

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Hidden away, surrounded by stacks of books, a small form sat ensconced in semi-darkness, feet pulled up so that she looked to be almost hovering on her perch. One small hand gripped a copy of The Black God's Drums, an excellent steampunk tale set in an alternate New Orleans after the Civil War. A low hum chased away the silence, much like the rustling of turned pages and the distant hoot of an owl.

"Shoot. There is an owl in here??" Honeyed orbs darted away from the page she'd been reading to glance around her dimly lit corner, but she saw nothing and no one. Perhaps she was just hearing things?

 

[fr33ks33k]

*Along his path, he caught a separate but equally alluring aroma. It smelled of fresh-cut lemons and the bitter sting of alcohol. Thoroughly distracted, he wandered the aisles until he found the source: a cask marked with an intricate sigil, painted neon yellow.

As he stepped closer, the scent got stronger. The cask, placed on a pedestal that raised it to eye level, had a small stopper near the bottom emblazoned with a different sigil. He noticed a chalice near the cask and with not much thought, he placed it below the stopper and pulled it free. He filled the cup halfway before replacing the cork. The liquid was murky persimmon, but smelled more vibrant outside its container. He took a tentative drink and felt warmth spread through each limb as swiftly as a hot flash.

He'd drained the chalice before he realized it. His head tingled with the familiar buzz of intoxication, but he still felt strangely aware. Normal drink had a similar effect on him, so he disregarded it as more of the same.

With a slight imbalance, he set down the cup and went in search of the scent of a friend once more.*

 

[fr33ks33k]

*He was unsure how many hours had passed since he'd imbibed the sour yellow liquor and stumbled off into the stacks. His vision had gone fuzzy several times and he had thought he'd heard some disquieting noises from the shadows. The tinny hoot of the owl brought his focus to his left. There was a wafting of incense, a peculiar mixture of mulberries and chocolate.

He stepped into the alcove cut into this aisle, following the faint trail of smoke as it dissipated from its source. The smell confused him as much as it enticed him, luring him around corner after corner. He stepped between two shorter bookshelves and found himself standing before a sculpture of wrought-iron and filigree. It was massive; a buffalo displayed in intricate detail. The iron trappings were almost burgundy; some sort of patina overlaid perhaps. The filigree flashed in the light pouring in from above. It was as much a mystery that skylights seemed to be in every space just perfectly to provide such lighting as who could have constructed such a mammoth structure.

As he circled the statuary he noticed the finer details depicted stories, some short and simple, others epic in scope. There were lightning bolts and what appeared to be the gusting of hurricane winds intertwined with symbols he was not quite familiar. The figures were shown in all manner of battles, but one figure remained throughout. A female figure stood victorious at the center of the buffalo's forehead, wielding a spear and buckler.

He smiled as he took in the whole of the display. Such beauty and a deep history lived in this piece. He chuckled softly as he heard another tinny hoot break his reverie. He caught wind of that friendly aroma again and bowed to the statue before striding into the labyrinthine maze of his shop, breathing deeply and following his nose.*