clayforthedevil | In Which Libraries are Not Quiet

Bahorel strides into the library with easy speed. He walks past the strange computer help desk and past the current front shelves-- something about animation, this time, and history, and those changing shelves are always interesting, but it's not what they're here for.

Harry, while clearly no admirer of libraries, may still notice that there a few more books here than in the libraries he was used to. Just a few.

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"Is't so?" He casts a curious glance at the book, but doesn't reach for it, instead falling into step behind Bahorel. But it cannot be denied that the glances he casts towards the shelves have a slightly different quality of curiosity than before.

"Ay, I am," he says, all cheerful obliviousness. "He is a fair pupil, quick and apt."

"He's damned brilliant." It's not an argument, just a statement of fact. "I'm not surprised he's picking it up fast. If he has the chance--" Bahorel stops again, and looks critically at the shelves on either side of them. They've started to be spaced out, less in orderly rows and more in an overlapping arrangement. He stamps hard a couple of times; the floor gives out a hollow-sounding thump.

Edited Date: 2015-08-17 03:20 pm (UTC)

"He is." Harry makes no effort at all to disguise his affectionate tone-- why should he?

He looks down at the sound of Bahorel's stomping.

"Must we descend?" he asks uncertainly. He starts casting about for a trap door of some kind-- it certainly sounded hollow, and a hidden staircase to a cellar would seem positively mundane by contrast, at this point.

Bahorel would be seriously unimpressed if Percy did try to hide his obvious fondness. That Percy is generally unrestrained about expressing himself is one of the things that makes him worthwhile company, in Bahorel's estimation.

"We do. Stay where you are, you're safe enough--"He pulls a few books halfway off their shelves and takes a final thick volume off entirely, tucking it under one arm. That bookcase moves aside, to show a narrow staircase leading into dim light.

"--Took me a while to figure that out the first time, I don't mind admitting. Come on, it's brighter once you're down there." Carrying his slowly increasing stack of books, he heads down.

Harry can't begin to imagine how Bahorel figured any of this out, unless there is a map or a list hidden somewhere. But he follows.

True to Bahorel's word, and contrary to all expected laws of nature, it does indeed grow brighter as they descend. Narrow windows cut high, high into the walls send down sharp shafts of light that criss-cross the staircase.

Boredom, Harry. Terrifying and apocalyptic boredom from months of being in a place with nothing at all that actually needs doing. That's how Bahorel figured it out. (He's considered that the Library does this sort of thing to him on purpose. If so, he appreciates the entertainment.)

He stops in front of a section of books that are especially brightly lit by the criss-crossing lights above. In the nearby shadowed parts of the shelves, the books are audibly rustling. "There's what we're here for-- some of it, anyway. The better books." If Harry wants to read the spines, there are a few with titles like "Vampyre" and "Living Dead: A Field Guide" and "The Monster Book of Monsters". And quite a few with no title at all.

"Ah!" He draws nearer, but seems hesitant to touch them. "Know you what they concern? Recommend you any in particular?"

Bahorel runs a hand along one of the shelves. This is something like battle planning; he's taking it almost seriously.

"Our Northman looks human--at least sometimes-- and we know he's from Europe, so ..." He grabs a few old hardcovers and one extremely shoddy-looking paperback with a garish painting of a woman being bittend on the front. "Probably these. There are a good many legends, though; you may not find anything here that's entirely right. But it's enough to give you the general idea.--they won't be quite so lively when we've left the Library, I think it's being around the others that does it. Want to look around for other books while we're here?"

The other books are practically screaming to be looked at! Some of them almost seem to know their visitor's names.

"--I think they will be displeased if we do not."

He goes curiously over to the rather furry, quivering Monster Book of Monsters and begins to carefully ease it off the shelf.

"I am sure Feuilly's books never behave so."

Bahorel laughs. "Feuilly's probably a good influence on them."

As long as Harry's looking, Bahorel will, too. Even in this one room of the Library there are more books than a man could read in a normal lifetime.

Harry, stretching on tip-toe for a book, just manages to snag the upper corner with his fingers and tilt it off the shelf. But rather than falling into his waiting hands, it gives a little cry of delight (which sounds rather like the crackling of new pages) and takes flight, covers flapping like wings as it swoops in circles above their heads. Harry, cursing, tries to snatch it, but it hovers just out of his reach.

Bahorel grins. "Your hunt, Sir Percy! Do you want aid, or is the quarry yours alone?"

He's in no hurry; if Harry wants to run around chasing a book, that's fine by him.

"Perhaps if-- if we seek to corner it-- you from that side, I from this..."

Because of course he's not going to ask for help explicitly.

pffft, asking for help. It's just sharing the fun!

Bahorel gets up, still grinning, and takes his place where Harry asked. The book swings between the two of them, seeming to consider its options.

Harry edges closer, closing in its available space. Not necessarily the most effective tactic against something that can fly, but he's hoping the sudden addition of Bahorel's superior height to the offensive will take the book off-guard.

Bahorel shrugs off his coat, trusting Harry to see the obvious use there; a net, yes?

Is Harry going to make the attack?

Oh, clever plan. His own doublet has too many buttons to shrug off so easily, and he doesn't want the book to catch on. So, to drive the book towards Bahorel's net, he makes a leaping lunge for the book, which flutters frantically away from him.

It flaps back, and up--

but not far enough up. With a cheerful shout, Bahorel whips his coat across the book's cover and swings it towards Harry.

Harry seizes hold of it with a triumphant shout.

Taking care to keep the book pressed against his chest, he awkwardly disentangles Bahorel's coat and offers it back to him.

"And the bounty for our triumph is--" He tilts his head to look at the title. "--a book on birds."

He sounds slightly disappointed.

"In this room?" Bahorel is less disappointed and more intrigued. "Hell, I'm reading that, then." He takes the book off Harry's hands and looks around again. "You know, I've never seen a ladder for the taller shelves. I wonder if all of the higher books in here fly?"

Harry tilts his head back up to peer at them.

"It would do little good, if they are all so unruly. Though perhaps there is a means to subdue them to your will, but we know it not."

"Hah, good point." Bahorel looks up into the higher shelves and smiles. "Wild books-- I like that. It's how they should be." He looks down at the stray bird-book. " And you could have flown straight up when you fell out of your shelf, you know, so don't act as if we've stolen you from the nest."

To Harry he says "Let me know when you're wanting to go; there's a shortcut to get out."

Harry has The Monster Book of Monsters (which someone seems to have tied up with a string, strange) and another book, one of the ones with some spelling of "Vampire" in the title tucked under his arm. He takes another glance around, then looks to Bahorel with a brisk nod.

"Let us see this shortcut."

Bahorel grins. "All right, now this one makes no sense, but--" he kicks down hard on one of the stones in the hall; it tilts just enough to give him an edge to grab and lift it away. That leaves not a very big gap in the floor, but enough for a man to fit through.

Bahorel, holding his books close to his chest, gives Harry an expression that says yes, this is ridiculous, but isn't it fun and jumps into the gap.

--And lands neatly in the front room of the Library, and very quickly steps aside. Hotspur doesn't seem the sort to hesitate long before a mere unknown leap.

How did Bahorel guess?? Harry does indeed emerge mere moments later, eyes wide.

"It does not make sense," he agrees, glancing around to try and reassure himself that yes, this is the room he thinks it is. Or at least a different, but identical one. That also seems possible. "--are all libraries made so?"