Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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unfinishedlibrary2025-12-12 07:10 pm
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2025-12-12 07:10 pm
The real alien abduction... LIBRARY RETURN LOG
Who: The Editors, and the Assistants
What: Library Return!
When: At the end of the Story
Where: The Library
Content warnings: Please put content warnings in the headers!
It’s been an eventful month in Woodhurst! The alleged alien abductions have caused tourism to absolutely boom. What was a small, peaceful town a few weeks ago has turned into a bustling hub. There are claims that the local bookstore has been run by an alien for the last 20-odd years - met only with mutters from the locals about having heard that one before - and a plethora of people taking to the internet to tell the stories of their own abductions.
With the return of most of the humans to Earth, the Wellbeing Group have recalled their agents to the SS Radiance. With a few exceptions, almost everyone should be back to where they were on that first day - November 14th, 2019. It turns out that the humans of Earth just aren’t ready for the Group’s efforts. Perhaps there’s something to be said for following protocol and allowing First Contact to be established… well, first.
Amongst all the chaos of reunions and goodbyes, Editors may miss the signs of the Story ending. It starts slowly, ramping up over a matter of hours. The smell of old books tickles at their senses, and the rustling of pages reaches their ears. There’s something like the scritch of pen on paper, like a bookmark being placed.
And then, between one slow blink and the next, Woodhurst and the SS Radiance begin to fuzz out of view. Like rubbing your eyes after a dream, the Stacks take shape around them; and with the thud of a hardcover closing, the Story comes to an end.
Welcome back, Editors
For some, recovering from the effects of the Story might be as easy as turning a page. For others, there might be a lot left to unpack. Readers - those who had remained themselves during the Story - will likely find it easier. Those who were Actors, fully absorbed in living another life, may need a minute to sort themselves out.
The Library itself seems to have some trouble shaking off the Story in full. Here and there are the same floral arrangements that had been on the Radiance, the scent of them much weaker now. There’s an echo of soothing music in the air, faint as if it’s fading out. And wherever these flowers can be smelled or the music can be heard, there’s an urge that is felt – a lowering of one’s barriers, a soothing sense of safety, and a compulsion to express oneself. So go on. Ask and answer the question. How does that make you feel?
The customary tea cart is set up in the Lobby again. It looks like it’s just recently been put out, with weak tea still only starting to steep. The coffee is as terrible as ever. Mismatched creamers and sugar packets sit in a neatly organised box, with a tin of butter cookies nearby. Paper cups have been replaced by ceramics with matching saucers, dainty napkins just waiting to be used.
Notably, there is no phone provided. Instead there is a sign:
Please direct all complaints to the Help Desk.
The Help Desk itself is along one wall of the Lobby. The large window, previously closed and locked, is now open. The ‘back in 5’ sign is gone, replaced by one that instructs you to ‘please take a number’. A stack of cards with bold numbers printed on them sits beneath it.
And behind that window, sitting at the Help Desk, is someone whose voice may have only been heard over the phone until now. He will not be assisting anyone who approaches out of turn, so you should get comfortable mingling while you wait.
Perhaps in the hopes that some people will get distracted and wander away, there is a poster next to the Help Desk window.
Skills 101
Learn from the best the Library has to offer!
Join the study group in Meeting Room 1.
No food or drinks permitted.
In case anyone would like to avoid the Assistants as much as possible, or would like something else to do after yelling at them, there is another display that can be found periodically outside one of the doors of rotating locations. It says ‘Seed Library’ and, as the name implies, has little packets of seeds that are available! When seen outside the door, it will always lead to the garden. Time to get your hands dirty!
Interestingly, it seems the garden seems to follow the same general rules as the rest of the library- whatever someone expects the weather or season to be is what will be reflected in that outside space, with a sunrise/set pattern to match. When two or more people with different ideas of what it should be occupy the space, however, it gets… muddled.
And for those with hands just itching to express themselves with violence… the Safe Zone awaits. The Library’s safety mechanism triggers as damage is registered, whether to an Editor or a piece of the Library. As if in anticipation of some long stays, the previously-empty yacht does now have a few creature comforts. Food, drinks, a place to rest. Just try not to extend your stay too long or your more peaceful friends might start to wonder where you’ve gone.
What: Library Return!
When: At the end of the Story
Where: The Library
Content warnings: Please put content warnings in the headers!
It’s been an eventful month in Woodhurst! The alleged alien abductions have caused tourism to absolutely boom. What was a small, peaceful town a few weeks ago has turned into a bustling hub. There are claims that the local bookstore has been run by an alien for the last 20-odd years - met only with mutters from the locals about having heard that one before - and a plethora of people taking to the internet to tell the stories of their own abductions.
With the return of most of the humans to Earth, the Wellbeing Group have recalled their agents to the SS Radiance. With a few exceptions, almost everyone should be back to where they were on that first day - November 14th, 2019. It turns out that the humans of Earth just aren’t ready for the Group’s efforts. Perhaps there’s something to be said for following protocol and allowing First Contact to be established… well, first.
Amongst all the chaos of reunions and goodbyes, Editors may miss the signs of the Story ending. It starts slowly, ramping up over a matter of hours. The smell of old books tickles at their senses, and the rustling of pages reaches their ears. There’s something like the scritch of pen on paper, like a bookmark being placed.
And then, between one slow blink and the next, Woodhurst and the SS Radiance begin to fuzz out of view. Like rubbing your eyes after a dream, the Stacks take shape around them; and with the thud of a hardcover closing, the Story comes to an end.
Welcome back, Editors
For some, recovering from the effects of the Story might be as easy as turning a page. For others, there might be a lot left to unpack. Readers - those who had remained themselves during the Story - will likely find it easier. Those who were Actors, fully absorbed in living another life, may need a minute to sort themselves out.
The Library itself seems to have some trouble shaking off the Story in full. Here and there are the same floral arrangements that had been on the Radiance, the scent of them much weaker now. There’s an echo of soothing music in the air, faint as if it’s fading out. And wherever these flowers can be smelled or the music can be heard, there’s an urge that is felt – a lowering of one’s barriers, a soothing sense of safety, and a compulsion to express oneself. So go on. Ask and answer the question. How does that make you feel?
The customary tea cart is set up in the Lobby again. It looks like it’s just recently been put out, with weak tea still only starting to steep. The coffee is as terrible as ever. Mismatched creamers and sugar packets sit in a neatly organised box, with a tin of butter cookies nearby. Paper cups have been replaced by ceramics with matching saucers, dainty napkins just waiting to be used.
Notably, there is no phone provided. Instead there is a sign:
The Help Desk itself is along one wall of the Lobby. The large window, previously closed and locked, is now open. The ‘back in 5’ sign is gone, replaced by one that instructs you to ‘please take a number’. A stack of cards with bold numbers printed on them sits beneath it.
And behind that window, sitting at the Help Desk, is someone whose voice may have only been heard over the phone until now. He will not be assisting anyone who approaches out of turn, so you should get comfortable mingling while you wait.
Perhaps in the hopes that some people will get distracted and wander away, there is a poster next to the Help Desk window.
Learn from the best the Library has to offer!
Join the study group in Meeting Room 1.
No food or drinks permitted.
In case anyone would like to avoid the Assistants as much as possible, or would like something else to do after yelling at them, there is another display that can be found periodically outside one of the doors of rotating locations. It says ‘Seed Library’ and, as the name implies, has little packets of seeds that are available! When seen outside the door, it will always lead to the garden. Time to get your hands dirty!
Interestingly, it seems the garden seems to follow the same general rules as the rest of the library- whatever someone expects the weather or season to be is what will be reflected in that outside space, with a sunrise/set pattern to match. When two or more people with different ideas of what it should be occupy the space, however, it gets… muddled.
And for those with hands just itching to express themselves with violence… the Safe Zone awaits. The Library’s safety mechanism triggers as damage is registered, whether to an Editor or a piece of the Library. As if in anticipation of some long stays, the previously-empty yacht does now have a few creature comforts. Food, drinks, a place to rest. Just try not to extend your stay too long or your more peaceful friends might start to wonder where you’ve gone.
Nara'a Sunvara (Warrior of Light) | OTA
He has his ears and claws and tail again! He could jump for joy if he wasn't still so godsdamned stressed. His ears fold flat against his head and he briefly considers registering a complaint, but... no, not now. Instead he starts prowling around the stacks, resisting the urge to whap books off the shelf in a foul mood. That's not going to help anything and he knows it.
Instead he takes out his journal, takes a deep breath, and practically growls into it. People are free to either come find him or yell back, their choice.
Gardening Fun
Nara'a likes botany. It's calming, and it's a way to get his hands dirty without violence. Instead he starts planting some of the seeds that he recognizes or at least has good analogues to, so people coming through the garden are likely to see him at work.
Even when he's not at work he's sometimes just sitting out there, watching the sky turn different colors. It's good to get some fresh air, even if that fresh air is inside while also being outside. He doesn't want to push himself too hard, since... all of that business was extremely unpleasant and he'd prefer to not think about it right now.
(Un)Pleasant Dreams (cw: nightmares, panic attacks, possible spoilers)
He gets tired eventually, and sleeping in the dirt is not a good option when there's beds available. Even if he'd prefer it not be communal, he's got to rest at some point.
But his dreams are uneasy, terrifying flashes of violence and horror. He doesn't shift around in bed much, but he does startle awake at the slightest noise anywhere in the room, grabbing his weapon and pointing it towards whatever direction the noise came from. It takes a bit for him to calm down each time he's startled.
If the source of the noise is close enough, they might notice tear streaks down his pale cheeks, but whether or not they remark on it is up to them.
Wildcard
[ooc; idk just grab me on Discord or Plurk if you want something else.]
(Un)pleasant Dreams
Usually.
The least motion from the bunks freezes him in place -- pure instinct, before he's even processed the potential threat leveled at him. Once he has, he ... blinks, once, before asking in a low voice, "That bad for you?"
no subject
"I am sorry for startling you and for pointing a weapon at you. It's... a habit from... well. It doesn't matter, it's not an excuse. I'm sorry."
no subject
And: "You couldn't have hurt me."
Not permanently, anyway. He's a little interested to know if the Library would react as rapidly to his potential "death" as it does for the living around here -- but that's something for another time.
Keeping his hands visible, he crosses the bunk room and stops alongside the -- not a sphinx, the other fellow's body plan is wrong, but he's got the ears and tail and features of one. So maybe sphinx will do as a placeholder until Illarion gets a better name for his kind.
"Does talking help?"
no subject
"I... don't know. And it's... it's complicated. Flashes of the past. Flashes of a possible future. ... And then there's the things that clearly don't make sense, like someone in a place they never could have been in. Or losing a battle that was definitely won." Turning into something he never ended up turning into, by the grace of the man still half-stuck to his soul.
no subject
Likely not the case here; even if this fellow is from a world with no concept of the undead, or a different concept, and hasn't clocked Illarion for one immediately -- getting that close likely would not be comforting. And might let on he's not breathing, and not warm.
He leans hipshot against the upright of the bunk instead, shifting his gaze to a point somewhere out in the room. Being polite -- not threatening with his eyes.
"'A possible future,'" he echoes, thoughtfully. (And echoes: His voice sounds ... wrong ... for the enclosed, muted space of the bunk room. Like he's standing somewhere much bigger.) "Not used to hearing that one. Things going as bad as they did in the past, or worse than they did -- that's more usual.
"You a diviner?"
He couldn't -- no, not couldn't. Doesn't want to remember if Esfir ever confessed anything to him about her divinations crossing into her nightmares. But he wouldn't be surprised if they could.
Shadowbringers Spoilers
As for the rest... "Of the past, yes. The future, no." That's not his blessing, that's Mikoto's. And she doesn't find it much use, in any case. He looks at the man... there's something odd about him, but his mind is too frazzled at the moment to figure out what.
"The dead bodies don't bother me - well. Anymore." The first time he saw a man he killed personally he had a bit of a minor meltdown before being pushed to the next task. And then the bodies in the Waking Sands... the ones he'd held personally will never leave him, but there's been so many bodies in his past. "They probably should." He'll carry that weight as long as he lives. Longer, maybe. "It's turning into something that I don't want to be that bothers me. Both literally and metaphorically."
holds out my arms for spoilers, unlikely to play myself
Like how humans seemed to be almost everywhere.
"You soldier for long enough, they will stop bothering you the same way they did. Or you get out of soldiering," he points out.
"What's put you on that path? Can't be just losing your sensitivity to death."
no subject
The path... "The turning into what I didn't want to be? ... Absorbing the light aether from gigantic monsters. It cleaned up the area, but all of that light nearly made me turn into a monster myself." He clenches his fingers around the side of the bed. "And if I had died I would have likely still ruined things, releasing all that aether." But no, maybe that's not what he meant.
"I do things that no one else can do. Or wants to do. By becoming strong enough to take them on, I've also become most peoples' only option when things go catastrophically wrong." He's made himself useful enough to be indispensable, essentially.
bwuhhh this got buried; thank you for your patience!
Elves, after all, had made themselves indispensable to their successor races.
And nearly went extinct for it.
"'Have to protect people,'" he echoes. "What's holding you to that? Oaths? Threats?"
Maybe the former. Unlikely the latter. Most likely -- "Not wanting to think of yourself as a man who abandons the helpless?"
no subject
Probably similar to what happened the last time he tried to take a ‘vacation’. “I want to help people, I do. I just don’t know how long I’m going to be able to do it.”
no subject
There was only so much one person -- or one people -- could do to help, unsupported, before they collapsed.
"Then you make a hard decision before Lady Death decides for you, and them." His tone's not sympathetic -- but not condemning, either. It is a difficult place to be and he had been there, with all his people; he simply hasn't any emotions about that correspondence any longer.
"What options do you have?" A pause, and then, because it likely bears elaborating: "Not just the ones you'd feel are acceptable. All of them, including walking away."
no subject
He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, an expression not his own. He can feel both the voidsent and Ardbert in his soul ‘step back’ in discomfort as he feels a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. It’s not really there, of course - not in any dimension other than his own mind.
‘Didn’t I once tell you that you should walk away? These undeserving shites…’ But there’s no malice in the ‘voice’, and Nara’a is so used to it that he doesn’t even visibly react. “… Walk away. Let myself be taken over and turned into something else. Keep helping people until I die. Take breaks, even if I don’t know how. I… I don’t know what else.”
He can feel Ardbert turning to him in his mind, and while he can’t hear a clear voice he can sense what he means anyway. ‘You’re not going to give up. We’re too alike. I gave up everything including myself to help others, to help you find a way to fix things. I know you well enough to know you’re not that kind of person.’
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Garden!
There's always work to do in a garden. He's here to do none of it.
He's got his cloak of black feathers back on, a string of throwing knives on a long cord loosely across his chest, the same exact grimy pants he'd been wearing the last time they crossed paths.. and some of the same bloodstains. The presence of the presumed-felinid is noted; he has nothing particularly negative to think about Nara'a, and so is content to not interrupt overmuch, finding himself a darker spot in the "late afternoon" light to wait out eventual what-passes-for-nightfall.
The cat seemed .. reasonably intact. "Were you not in armor before?"
no subject
Stretching a little bit he smiles. "I have the ability to change my gear to what I choose. I have different... you could call them 'roles'? I can take damage for people, or fling magicks, or use a scythe. ... Are you all right?"
no subject
Obviously Nara'a means he just changes out of his armor! But where is he storing it? That there's ways to do it through sheer sorcery is something he doesn't suspect. At all. "I find the light unpleasant." There's a brief gesture towards his eyes. "No irises have side effects."
All that black is entirely pupil. Light can get very uncomfortable very fast. "But soon the false night cycle will begin. Do you work after dark?"
no subject
He looks at Curze's eyes, and... yeah. He can see why light would be a problem. "And yes, I do. My people are usually nighttime hunters, in fact. Prey is easier to catch at night when it is asleep and the more dangerous hunters have retired for the night. They hunt and dance, worshiping the goddess of the moon... we tend to be asleep during the brightest part of the day, actually."
Gesturing to his own eyes, behind the glasses Curze will be able to see that while his eyes aren't all pupil, he does have quite a lot of black in his eye as well.
no subject
Stable, allowed mutants were just fine to Curze. Sure, some were more extremely catlike than others, but all were permitted. "It surprises me anything like a 'goddess' is tolerated, though." Religion is illegal!
But he can't do anything about people he can't reach. There's a thoughtful silence for a moment before he continues. "I should like to see that bit of sorcery, if you're willing. The atherical gear change."
no subject
He pauses, because that sounds distinctly Imperial. He has to remember that he's from a different world - things may be different there, though he struggles to imagine a 'benevolent' empire. "There are many different kinds of beings worshiped in my world. The Empire tried to wipe all of that out for their own reasons, but were unsuccessful. And then their own faith in their Emperor turned his corpse into a twisted god that had to be defeated." It was... quite the terrible situation all around, really.
But Curze asked, so he will oblige. He stands and pulls out a small stone and closes his eyes. There's a whooshing sound and a small flash of light before his outfit changes in a blink. He shifts slightly with the added weight of the scythe, but it's not too bad.
no subject
There's a faint but noticeable flinch at the flash of light (flashbang grenades work GREAT on Night Lords), but otherwise attempts to watch directly. That's a different sort of ability than one he's seen before outside of Magnus' shenanigans, but he wasn't sure how much Magnus wore was actually clothing and how much was Magnus just ... using his powers to tell people he has something on. "The stone is the focus or the source?"
no subject
Anyway. "The source of the objects, for the moment. This is my current setup of gear for this weapon. I can change what's bound to it, but right now this is the best I have available." He taps the chestpiece and nods. "But the stones also hold the memories of their previous wielders." He... probably shouldn't mention the attached voidsent hanging onto his soul right now. "So they're invaluable if you're able to attune to them and draw out the memories of techniques."
no subject
In the meantime, outfit changes. This isn't even getting into glamour plates! "And if you lose the stone, you lose the capability?"
no subject
"It does definitely become much more difficult for you to use advanced techniques. ... On the whole. I do have one that started out blank, because it's a new discipline... so I suppose whoever gets it after me will be able to do some things I've developed." Really all he needs is an aetherotransformer and a gun. Or maybe just the latter.
He smiles at Curze. "But I keep them safe wherever possible. I may have hidden them in my mouth once or twice when needed... unfortunately they don't taste as good as they look."
no subject
It doesn't, honestly, sound like something the Imperium can make use of, but it might be entertaining to some parts of his own legion. Maybe he could indulge the less wretched of them in a prize, if he can figure out how it's done.
no subject
Another thing to ask Stephanivien when he gets back to Ishgard... "But yes, this system allows me to change my role in battle very quickly. I can handle most things... except healing. I seem to be terrible at that, unfortunately." He chuckles a little bit.
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