A Multiverse at our fingertips (Minibit x Luxglyph)

[LuxGlyph]

A world-hopping adventure roleplay between Luxglyph and Minibit

The library was quiet tonight. The thought came to Harrison as he pushed the old, squeaking cart past the row of tall book shelves, a pile of binded books and rolled scrolls stacked neatly on top of each other. The squeaking was particularly loud that night, and he noticed it was echoing back at him from the tall ceiling. He made a mental note to order some oil for the next shipment as he mused over the lack of warm bodies that usually filled the grand building full of information.

The weekly reports announced a storm tonight, and lightly most of the regulars decided to hold off their visit for another day and opted to return to the safety of their home before the clouds broke and the rain spilled out. As if on cue with his thoughts, a soft rumble of thunder broke through the dense wood of the library walls and challenged his squeaky wheels for most impressive echoes.

The cart stilled and he checked his pocket watch. The reports were almost always accurate, down within fifteen minutes, and time was running out. Now was a good time to check the front desk and do some final rounds. It was an hour before closing, but no one would mind if he closed up early. He left the squeaky cart in the section its precious cargo belonged to before he found his way back towards the front desk.

A familiar, and an unfortunate regular, was already waiting with a stack of thick scrolls in her arms. He forced a smile on his face as she rounded her hard eyes upon him.

"I've been waiting," She scowled with her pinched, thin lips.

"Yes, sorry, Mistress," Harrison managed to keep his smile as he rounded the desk just in time for the woman to settle the pile onto the desk - far gentler than one might expect from looking at her hard pointed edges and furious eyes, but Harrison knew that if the woman could love anything, it was her own research subjects. She was a professor and lead theorist of the University. She was likely author or co-author in at least a hundred books in this library.

Perhaps that was why he never minded her scowling and her upturned nose at him. She didn't call him names, like some of the others did, and he suspected that she treated everyone like she treated him, and that was a little encouraging. It was more than most gave him.

He quickly sorted the scrolls as he mused over that line of thought. He was the second child and first son to Henry and Aviana Locke, a name earned for the generation of lock spell makers Henry was born from, and what Harrison had been expected to continue, until he was tested.

No magic potential. That was the final reading when he had been examined at two. It read the same at five, eight, thirteen and at last at eighteen, but by then he was already quite certain of the fact and it really didn't bother him any longer. Oh, it had broken his parents hearts at first. After all, less than two percent of the world's population were like Harrison and it made things quite difficult. Everything was built so completely on top of the magic elements that nothing was left without. Lights, doors, clocks, trains, sky ships, newspapers, books, paintings, roads, even the precious locks his father took such pride in creating. Nothing was made without magic, so what might Harrison do instead, when he couldn't even switch on a light properly?

But then Harrison's little brother was born and his parents breathed a collective sigh of relief. His father often joked that Davey got all the magic potential that skipped over Harrison, and that was fine. It made his parents happy, gave his father someone to train up and take his place in his prestigious line of locksmiths. Better yet, it took the attention off Harrison, and he.. well.. he got by just fine.

At eighteen, his classmates were dividing off into trade schools and universities. Off to learn the finer details of their chosen fields of study, while Harrison.. didn't. It wasn't for lack of trying, he wanted to learn, at least in theory, the laws and orders behind the strange force that was 'magic', but no school would accept him, and most ignored the letters he sent to them. It was disappointing, to say the least, but his brother was growing older, his elder sister already educated and living her own life, so he couldn't let himself sit and stagnate. He left his family, his familiar town, and moved to Lainiar, a grand and wonderful city filled with people who had absolutely no idea who he was or what his potential might be. He got by, working for the central library and earning enough for tge small room in the library's upper floor. He made friends, survived the day to day, even took lovers. He kept house plants, and when he had the time he read the books about magic theory that he had been denied from the schools.

He was average and he was happy for it. It was all he really ever wanted.

Another thunderous roll, louder this time, echoed overhead and the woman sniffed impatiently. Harrison quickly finished off the receipt with, perhaps, a little sloppier hand writing than he usually allowed, but he boxed up the scrolls and pressed the lid over them to protect them from the whether.

"Be careful out there," He encouraged as the woman touched the box and allowed the magical energies lift the weighted box for her. She cast him a distracted glance, and a nod, before she departed from the library proper.

Right. Harrison brushed a hand down his vest before he glanced around. Thunder was coming quicker now, and any minute now the - ah, there it was. The familiar patter of rain began to clatter against the roof and windows. It would be much louder in his rented room, but he liked it that way, it often lulled him to sleep.

A few last minute visitors had left while he was assisting the mistress, but he needed to ensure the place was completely empty before he locked up. Perhaps someone capable of magic could simply weave a spell to assess the life forms within the building, but he was stuck with the good, old fashion way.

 

[Minibit]

Simon didn't remember screaming, but he supposed he must have; it was probably just too loud for him to hear it. His vision exploded in white as the energy shot down around him like a lightning strike; crackling and burning through every bone and muscle in his body; rending him apart and slamming him back together until he dropped limp onto a wood-panel floor in a darkened room; tall stacks of books looming over him like stoic guardians.

The sound that passed his lips as he reached for his head was more akin to a whimper than he was pleased to admit, and he clenched his jaw closed as his palms pressed against his temples, screwing his eyes shut. The screams in his head were still ringing; echoing in the hollowness where Daedalus used to be.

Looking back, Simon was really quite proud of himself for not panicking at any one of the things that had happened in the last half-minute. He was very sure he nearly died, he was in an unknown place, and the – he had thought – immortal, invulnerable being that had been his only companion for the last seven years was missing after exhibiting fear and terror that Simon had always believed was reserved for things like mice under the approach of a hawk.

He drew back his fingers, squinting at them in the low light. No blood, he noted detachedly, ignoring the spots starting to dance over his vision, and he could move his arm.

Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet; his whole body ached as if it had been pounded with electrically charged mallets, but everything seemed to be intact and working. Drawing a slow breath, he licked his lips and looked around, pushing his wispy blond hair out of his face in a fleetingly familiar motion as his clear blue eyes adjusted to the shadows.

He was in a library, that much was apparent. Books lined every space in the enormous stacks on either side of him. The light was coming from softly glowing yellow lamps, suspended from the high ceiling. Suspended from what, it was difficult to see.

Behind him stood a tall window against which rain was throwing itself with impressive rigour, making for a rather blurry view. It was night; that or the sun had been eclipsed in some strange darkness. But he was in another place altogether from the temple veranda, which had been a gorgeous – if rather frosted – autumn afternoon; why shouldn't he now be in some great library at night, being buffeted by a storm?

Thunder shook the building, as if to confirm his deduction, and he stumbled onto his knees, a familiar sensation spreading down his arms from his fingertips.

It was like static; crawling along his skin, raising goosebumps and tickling at the back of his neck like breath, sparking the same fire that lit when a wolf stopped on the path and stared at you;

Danger. Danger. This thing can kill me.

Pressing his palm over his eyes, Simon cringed. That was one instinct he had never, ever expected to hear echoed in the nuances he got from his connection with Daedalus. Deity of the cosmos; defender of Lyeses and countless other worlds; terrified, and now absent except for the instinctive whisper that usually accompanied an impending cosmic catastrophe.

A second rumble shook him back to the present, and he bookmarked his panic attack for sometime when he wasn't surrounded by a familiarly destructive weather pattern. Terror wasn't the only thing that flooded his mind as the world exploded around him and a god screamed in the corners of his consciousness; there was a message, fragmented among the chaos, scattered in images and feelings and senses. It figured, Simon thought, sparing a moment for bitterness as he tried to gather everything that didn't belong in the 'help me I'm dying' category from the last few minutes, Daedalus never communicated in plain language.

A face; a care-worn face of a man near his own age; and a concept of a weapon; a sword. No, it was less concrete than that; it was a concept of powerful force.

Lighning flashed through the window, and he decided to decipher the rest later. If all he had to go on was being transported to someone else, Daedalus being terrified, and the image of a stranger in his mind, then he supposed he'd better find the third item on the list.

Simon was not, and had never been – an especially large person, but libraries – whatever strange, storm-buffeted place they may lie in – were a familiar enough domain, and he made his way through the stacks of the top floor with respectable speed despite his shorter limbs, peering between each row and wishing he had more to go on than a strange face and that fight-or-flight prickling at the base of his skull.

 

[LuxGlyph]

A bolt of lightning flashed across the stormy skies outside and the magic orb-lights cracked, flickered, then failed inside the large library. Harrison froze, momentarily shocked as a wave of.. something washed over him. Static? Magical discharge? Normally Harrison was completely numb to the sensations of magic but he had felt a clear jolt when the lights went out. Maybe it was just his nerves.

He brushed at the raised hairs along his arm as he looked around the darkness, already imagining how horrible it was going to be trying to make his way around in the dark. He had never seen a full blackout before. Sometimes these storms caused a few pieces to go haywire, but never the entire magic grid. Something must have seriously disrupted the flow.

Lightning cracked outside, briefly lighting up the windows and bookshelves and, in that small instance, Harrison thought he had seen.. something. Something big and present and overwhelming and too big for the library's walls to hold and yet he had seen it. It made his heart rush with terrible fight as he stumbled back against one of his shelves, his hand dropping the old book he had been sorting.

It was a mere moment after that the lights returned, humming back to life as they slowly illuminated the library again. With light came normality. There was nothing there to be frightened of and, really, Harrison couldn't remember what he saw, only that... no.. he couldn't be certain.. maybe he hadn't seen anything at all.

He let out a slow, tense breath as he tried to settle himself. He was imagining things, but regardless he felt unnerved, and despite his best attempts to return to sorting he felt too unsettled to continue. He would simply have to get up early in the morning to finish - perhaps the storm would be over by then.

He left his small cart of books where it stood and brushed his hands nervously down the front of his uniform as he went to grab his things at the front desk. His home was upstairs in a small section of the building meant for caretakers such as himself, and he was thankful he wouldn't have to travel in this weather. Honestly though, he was being silly. Spooked by the darkness. He was like a child in need of a night light.

Something caught his ear when he reached the front desk and he froze, hyper-aware of anything that might go bump in the night. It look a long moment for him to realize what the sound was. Someone was running. In the library. The thought made a chill crawl up his spine because he knew he had checked the customer numbers when he had locked up and he had been the only one here.

Quit freaking out, he fussed at himself, its probably some burglar trying to take advantage of the storm.

He bend down under the front desk and pulled out the bat he had bought himself, in case of moments like this. He couldn't use spells, pre-woven or not, but he could certainly swing a bat. Slowly, with the wooden stick in hand he made his way up the stairs to the second floor.

"H-hello?" He called, cursing himself for the crack in his voice. Oh he certainly sounded terrifying, didn't he? "There's nothing to steal here! You should leave now and maybe I won't call the authorities!" He paused at the top of the stairs to look around and listen. Maybe he could just frighten the thief off.

 

[Minibit]

A trembling voice sounded ahead of him, and Simon slowed his pace, sandaled feet making only soft shuffling sounds on the carpet.

He was being taken for an intruder, it seemed. Well; it wasn't entirely inaccurate. Regardless, he thought, as another crack of thunder rattled the windows and sent a shock down his spine and spreading across his neck, he couldn't afford this hold-up.

He peered ahead, trying to see around the bookshelf to where the voice was coming from without being seen, himself, and not having much success. It was difficult to say without a visual whether or not the rather shaken-sounding speaker was armed, and he was not willing to make any assumptions.

"It's all right!" he called cautiously, hoping his own tenor was steady enough to be convincing, and stepping slowly out from his shelter with his hands up in what he hoped was a universal sign of an unarmed surrender.

"It's all right" he reiterated, swivelling as slowly as he dared until he was facing the only other person in the room; a fellow easily a foot taller than him, with dark hair and a defensive stance. He was dressed in rather more fitted clothes than Simon's simple, purple robes. More importantly, he was brandishing what looked like a club; Simon gulped.

"I'm a priest" he explained, taking a careful step forward, and keeping his voice measured and low.

"I'm not stealing anything, but this isn't a safe place to be and we both need to get out of here, now."

He spoke the last word with some urgency, squinting at the figure, who was backlit by a light behind him, he couldn't get a clear read on the face.