Ye Olde S33k & Finde

"Noel"

Alabaster; battered, cracked, decimated. Even faith grows heavy if Justice's killed. Maybe no one perishes...quantified reality seems truly useless. Verity, wasted. Xenophiliac's yearning's zenith yields xenophobia, wary visions using trickery, swiftly reaving quality's purse. Ominous notions murder, knowledge juts into heresy, grasping fervently. Eroded, despondent, crucified, bound; amaranthine.
 
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Found scribbled in a notebook. Row 223, Third Shelf.

I want to watch your bruises blossom like violets sprouting from your porcelain skin. I'll wait like a vampire, poised outside your entrance until you invite me in. I want to watch your cheeks turn rosy red, flushed from exertion and burning with the reminder of my hand. I'll take like a pirate, claiming every pearl of pleasure as my bounty, hiding it from others under sand and lock and key. I want to watch your eyes dilate, watch your knees buckle, watch you lose control. I want to watch you die in microseconds, feel you surging back to life, every moment made eternal til your heartbeat ticks a count. I want to watch you writhing like a vine upon the ground and snaking ever upward as though you're heavenbound. I want to watch you as you see yourself, through the camera of your mind, I want to explore and extricate you from the fathoms I've defined with this feeble brain of mine. I want to see you come and go, and cum and flow, and ebb and grow, and on and on ad infinitum absurdum, until the edges of reality are blurred and maybe burn them so that when all that's left are mem'ries, they'll be tinted with the scent of burning timber, they'll bear the mark of ling'ring cinders, a nigh-eternal ember.
 
She held the book delicately, flashing the small light over the words, her breath catching and her blood stirring, warming her cheeks to a rosy glow. The passage finished, she sighed softly and returned the book to its shelf, disturbing the dust and leaving the outline of her fingerprints. She glanced side to side in the dimness and shook her head, collecting herself, dissipating the feeling of haunting need, for the moment.

She wandered deeper into the dark, following blind intuition, too curious to be afraid.
 
It was almost always the books that drew the patrons. The words were stronger than even the most obscure of oddities. Except that dark globe toward the center of the shop...but best not to think of that particular trinket right now. The light had moved and so he followed, staying just a few steps out of sight.

It was refreshing to see her inquisitive nature, a kindred spirit traveling the shrouded paths in search of nothing more than the next intrigue. He decided that he would introduce himself when she stopped to examine something else. He scarcely noticed the grin that had taken hold of his features.
 
Her fingers traced along the shelves as she walked now, almost childlike in wonder, turning and twisting almost at random letting the space pull her inward. She stopped with a start, crying out, pulling her fingers back and wincing, something...sharp... had caught her. She slipped the hurt finger to her mouth and played the light over the shelf, trying to find the culprit.

The supple leather spines of books and smooth ivory tokens seem to hold little opportunity to cut. The shelf had no obvious splinters. She ran her fingers gently along the wood again, carefully, searching.
 
*He spoke softly and evenly so as not to startle her so soon after being jolted by....something...on the shelf.*

Careful there, miss. Not everything here appreciates investigation. I'm the proprietor of this establishment. You can call me Fr33k. May I?

*his head dips in a slight bow, one hand outstretched, silently requesting to see her injured digit.*
 
She pulled her hand back, looking only slightly chagrined, trying to compose herself to something grander than a child full of wonder at all the mysterious toys, and somewhat succeeding. She offered her hand graciously, very trusting, or very sure of herself.

"Not everything her appreciates investigation?" She smiled. "Or do some things just like to bite a bit? I'm Val, if you wish. It is a pleasure to meet you, and your establishment."
 
Val, that must be short for something. But all in due time.

*He examines her finger and deems it not severe, smiling to himself as he looks up and responds*

Sometimes, it's a bit of both. Things here aren't always what they seem. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. This place has a way of pulling you in random directions.

*His fingers linger a bit longer before releasing her hand. His smile has remained intact, though his eyes dart toward some tiny movement among the shelves of the nearest case before returning to her*
 
"Its not bad at all, see?"

She wondered how much the proprietor was included in his pronouncements of the character of the curious shop and let the amusement in that thought filter into her sky blue eyes. She reclaimed her hand gently, the minor cut already closing, curling her fingers protectively as his attention wandered.

"I don't want to keep you from anything you need to do - all of this must take a lot to maintain. I'm just exploring. All of this seems to have so much emotion invested in it, dreams and desires. Its quite beautiful."
 
Maintain? Heh, this place pretty much takes care of itself. I do have a rather inordinate amount of junk mail to sift through from time to time though.

*The flash of motion caught his eyes for an instant, but the source had vanished before his gaze could focus completely. He brought his attention back to her. The hue of her eyes was enchanting, and this time he could feel his grin seeping into his features.*

No trouble at all. I like to go exploring as well. New things are always popping up in all sorts of places. If you don't mind, I'll tag along with you. Should be fun.
 
"New things?" she smiled and swept her eyes along the shelves. "I would enjoy the company. Is there any organization here, or do you just let your whims take you?"

She paused, breathing the still air, trying to figure out the source of what drew her here, a direction. It evaded her, like a song played just under the ability to hear, touching the heart but not the ear.

"It isn't truly safe here, is it?" she smiled. "Am I safer with you, or on my own?"
 
Yes, new things all the time, coming and going. No, I don't actually do anything but catalog things I find. Even I'm not sure where or how some of it gets here. There are very few standard doors, but other passageways exist all over. I'm sure you noticed that there aren't any other buildings within a block in each direction...I've never had to sign for a delivery, but all sorts of things appear. It's quite an interesting process.

*The smile he wore twitched a bit at the question of safety. Most times he felt at ease, but this night there was something fraying the edges of his calm. If it turned out to be another one of the clockwork animals being intrusively curious, he might have to build a corral for them.*

It's safe. Or rather, it is as safe as a strange place that's larger on the inside than it seems from the outside can be. There's always more safety in numbers, though I've never had any mishaps while wandering the stacks by myself. Then again, I have the keys.
 
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Somewhere in the darkness of the shop...

There is the sound of breaking glass and warping metal. The shrieks and protests of wood being bent and splintered. The dull thud of a blade meets surface after surface. Unyielding, unending, uninterrupted save by the short wrenching sound of steel ripping free after being buried deep within its target. Heavy breaths staccato rhythm plays accompaniment to the symphony of violence. There is a low dripping noise, though whether it is blood or sweat remains to be seen.

Swing. Slice. Cut. Shred. Bludgeon. Beat. Hack. Slash. Crush. Destroy. Decimate.

All words to describe the motions, the emotions, the evocation of the soul made in keen edge. The things laid to waste are nameless, worthless, only fit for this purpose, and so it is not a loss to annihilate them utterly. When unrecognizable bits are all that remain of them, his focus finally begins to return, the crimson tint to his vision ebbs, and he feels the peace that normally wraps his rage so tightly returning to its proper place.
 

Here she was, again.

She looked at the establishment, a nostalgic smile taking her face.

Her hair was longer than ever, curly, untamed. She left it down today, draped lazily over her shoulders--some of the strands made their way well past her bust.

She was in unremarkable clothing, a pair of black jeans, boots, a red fitted shirt complete with black leather clincher belt at her waist. An old, worn, once black but now dark grey leather jacket completed the ensemble.

She strode to the door, confidence in truck loads until her hand touched the knob. She closed her eyes, sighed, smiled. She felt her cheeks growing rosy, her heart beginning to pound.

No time like the present.

She took a step in, closing the door quietly behind her.

She actually was looking for something today. She wasn't sure if he'd have it, but she also wanted to talk to him, like they tried to do the last time she was here.

She absently rose her fingertips up to her lips, remembering, as she wandered down the closest aisle, glancing at the wares that were not there before.
 
The telltale sound of the door creaking open and closed catches his ear from somewhere in the shop. Steady steps carry him to the front counter, eyes scanning for the new visitor only to find a familiar face. A grin slowly curves his lips as he approaches.

"Well hello again. It has been a while, hasn't it? Are you looking for something particular this time...Hannah, right?"
 

She turned and smiled at him, slipping out of the aisle she occupied and walked to the counter, leaning on it slightly.

"It's been far too long," she admitted with a giggle, twirling a strand of hair around her finger from her temple. What was she doing? She hastily shoved her hands in her jacket pocket. She cleared her throat and glanced down the length of the shop from where she stood--it still seemed to go on forever.

"I... actually am looking for something," she responded softly. "But... I didn't really think it through--this is an antique shop of sorts... I don't know if you'd have what I'm looking for... untouched or what have you..."

She bit her bottom lip and looked down, shyly, her hair falling in front of her eyes. She shrugged a moment, leaning again on the counter, adjusting her hair.

"...But... then again..."
 
His eyes followed her hands from the counter to her hair to her pockets. He grinned and leaned against the opposite side of the counter.

"This place is full of things, old and new. I'm sure we could try and find anything your little heart desires..."

His arms crossed over his chest, a curious look on his face.

"So tell me more about what you're looking for..."
 

"I... am looking for a really thick, leather bound, blank book... for... well... a grimoire..." she shrugged again.

"I... mean..." She cleared her throat. "Just... a huge leather bound journal... Or... something to that... affect..."

She grasped the front of her jacket awkwardly, as if she were getting nervous, her eyes decided to dart behind him, never really looking him in the face.

Thoughts raced through her mind. Thoughts. Actions. She let out a small sigh and grinned at him, eyes focusing on his. Her cheeks took on their familiar rouge.
 
"Hmm...a grimoire? I didn't know you were an arcanist, Hannah. I have happened upon a few grimoires here and several blank journals, but I don't recall....ah, wait...there was one...I wonder if its still there..."

His arms uncrossed as he pushed away from the desk. The hint of red flooding her cheeks brought a mischievous glint to his eyes. A memory flashed in his mind, gone in an instant though the feeling remained.

"No need to be skittish, dear. Let's see if we have what you're looking for. This way."

A simple gesture beckoned her to follow him down one of the main aisles, passing various trinkets and intrigues along the way. Each turn took them past shelf after shelf of items, interspersed with empty ones. Before long, the route they'd taken was lost to even him, though he could always find his way in the shop no matter how deep he went.

After what seemed like a long time, he stopped in the middle of an aisle. The shelves here were strewn with tomes and notebooks in various languages covering a variety of topics. His hands lifted and sorted through several books before he turned to her with a smile.

"Well, theoretically, it should be among these. Feel free to dig through. Four eyes are better than two, after all. "
 

She wandered slowly after him, allowing things to catch her eye from time to time. She never paused too long, however, for fear of losing him, and her way.

When they made it to the shelves--stacked in what she assumed may have once been some sort of order--she dove right in, seemingly at the same moment he suggested that she do so. She gradually knelt down and took the bottom half, as he took the top.

She opened the bigger books, first, glancing through them briefly before setting them aside. In her mind, they'd aught to be alphabetized, but that was an OCD tendency--all her books at home were always in order by author.

She bumped his leg with a rather thick, heavy book while attempting to pull it off the shelf. A brief 'Sorry' was muttered as she flipped through the pages absentmindedly. Her eyes grew wide--what was this? It seemed familiar to her, though she didn't entirely know why. It was in Latin. She couldn't speak Latin, or read it for that matter, but a huge wave of deja vu washed over her.

She glanced up at him. Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but her mind commanded she look back down at the book. She stared hard at the page she flipped to, squinting.

"Hmm..." she whispered inwardly. "...What are you...?"
 
The sudden jolt sent another shock through his mind. Remembering...something. He couldn't recall any of the details, but he felt immediately as though he had a word or phrase on the tip of his tongue.

He glanced down and saw Hannah was buried nose-deep in a massive text. The writing he could see was very clearly Latin; hand-written. His knowledge of the dead language was sparse, but he could pick out a few words here and there.

"What have you got there, Hannah?"

He abandoned his search for the blank book in favor of crouching beside her to examine the text. Their arms brushed as he did so, another brief tingle of an otherworldly origin running the length of his spine. Whatever she'd found, it had an amazing reservoir of power.
 

She ran her fingertips gently over the text, not pressing down, even though she knew the ink was dry and had been for quite some time. She licked her lips and whispered softly: "I don't know what it is... but..."

She shook her head, laughed at herself. She almost said something silly. Almost.

She cocked her head slightly, so to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Here..." she was still speaking very softly--as though they were in a library and not in the shop. She offered the tome to him with shaky hands. "... I..." her voice had gone--her thoughts, too.
 
He accepted the book gingerly, though by the wear and shape of the spine of it, fragility was not a concern. When he did, their fingers touched and another spark ignited, this time clearly visible, arcing from fingertip to fingertip and tracing along the borders of the pages that were open. The blue-white lightning was gone as quickly as it had been seen.

"Well, either we've got lots of chemistry or this book is magically charged."

His grin and tone were lost somewhere between playful and truthful. He stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder as he scanned the text, searching for half-familiar words or strings of words, finding only a few.

"Lux aeternum. Eternal light....this appears to be some sort of incantation...and here, I'm not entirely sure, but it could be a summoning ritual. Spiritus vitalis...the breath of life. Interesting. Did you happen to see the title of this tome?"

He did not wait for a response, instead closing the book while keeping a finger on the pages she'd found. The cover was devoid of lettering, though it was inscribed with a detailed symbol. The symmetry of the design was perfect, not a single line was not in order. He stared at the sigil, feeling that same feeling of remembering, but only just.

"I feel like I've seen this before, but I'm not sure where..."
 

When the spark made itself visibly present she whispered something so quietly that it couldn't possibly be heard. She took a small step back and began chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Chemistry," she repeated as she giggled and bowed her head. "Yes, there's plenty of that... but..."

She swallowed hard--did she mean to say that? Well, it was obvious, she figured, very obvious. But her attention was met by his question.

She shook her head as he closed the book, leaning slightly so that her head was cocked slightly on his shoulder. She, too, felt a connection to the book, as if she'd seen it, held it, read it, learned it all before.

Her eyes made their way to his face, slowly, from book, to chest, to chin, to eyes. She smiled sheepishly, forcing strands of her hair behind her ear again.

"I... thought very much the same thing... when... I picked it up..." She mumbled.
 
While they examined the mysterious text, he continued to feel a sense of deja vu. Something within the tome, or perhaps the tome itself, was familiar. He could not bring himself to set the book down until he had gone over the pages Hannah had found once more. When he did set it on the shelf, it seemed to exude a sadness that it had been discarded. His eyes met hers, their current quest forgotten for a long moment.

"Maybe we should keep looking for your blank grimoire..."

Even as he said it, he knew it was a weak response. His mind was charged with thoughts far from the search for an empty book. His eyes flowed from her gaze to her lips to the pulse beating nervously at her throat, following the fitted curve of her shirt, the cinched waist of her belt, dragging back upward.

He turned to face her, something like a mischievous grin on his face though he could not decide where this mood had come from.

"Unless there's something else you're really looking for..."
 
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