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.
The Bride | OTA (CW: Past Traumas remembered)
She'd never felt what echoes through the library. She smells the flowers, but knows not what that imports - and in any event, there are more pressing things on her mind. Things roiling and tumbling through her and overwhelming everything else.
That thing, above all others, is rage. She has been compelled - again - against her will. Just like her birth. Just like her existence. Just like the wars. Like so many things in two centuries of life. Just like Waller. She has been used for a purpose without her say-so.
There are no words for her, and the soothing pushing down doesn't do nearly enough against the march coming the other way - no barriers and a compulsion to express herself? There's really only one outcome.
Which is why she gives the tea cat the hardest kick she can manage and just screams as loudly as she can. Frustrated, hoarse, and unable to do a single damned thing about it.
For now. Though in her heart of hearts, she vows to find the being behind all this - and teach them the folly of their ways with her bare hands.
The Safe Zone
She will, inevitably end up here for trying to damage things. Maybe it was when she started trying to push over library shelves. Or maybe she said some...creative curses towards the assistants. Or flat-out tried to attack them. All things are possible, and indeed all may be quite true.
There are times she just wants to fix things with her fists, after all.
Eventually she'll sit down, glowering, and eat something. And littering any wrapping because this place can go right to hell.
Private Moment
Once back in her quarters, the other feeling hits. The little note that had been drowned out by the symphony of her aggrieved rage. Hidden deep in her memories, she remembers. The story or...whatever it was...had cast her as a scientist. Obsessed with what she was attempting to discover, dedicated to it - and...that was how she had been created.
She had been made like Victor Frankenstein, and it brought all the memories flooding back. His kindness, his flaws - her educator and first lover, and oh the deeply conflicted feeling she had over all that...
And of course, what had happened - his horrible death at the hands of his first creation, Eric, the demon she had never managed to extinguish. It made her feel...helpless. For all her strength, for all that she had lived and tried to be different and tried and tried and tried - in a moment, this godforsaken place had brought her back to her beginnings and she had become her creator. That part of him that was always with her writ large.
She can't help the angry tears that come to her eyes, shuffling into a corner, hands actually shaking like they had when she had run on that terrible night. When she was still fresh to the world - betrayed and loved and exploited and cherished and alone and pursued.
It's all raw again, all fresh. The distance of two centuries torn away.
CYA
[As ever feel free to contact me via PM or on plurk if you have any ideas. I'm more than willing to see what sticks!]
The Safe Zone
So, it goes to the boat. And good thing too, because the Bride was there. Great: now it knew that the Bride wasn't dead.
...Now what.
"It's me," it says, as it awkwardly hovers nearby. It has...absolutely no idea where she was in the Story. (Shit, it should have kept track of her, it should have kept track of everyone...)
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Clearly not happy with anything at all.
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SecUnit wasn't exactly...great, when it came to recognising humans having emotions. It couldn't even identify its own emotions most of the time. But even it could tell that the Bride was clearly experiencing them right now.
And now it was stuck with her on the boat, for the next 482 seconds, while feelings were happening.
(Fuck.)
It would really like to go stare at a wall right now. Unfortunately, its on a fucking boat, and there are no walls. So instead it walks to the opposite end of the boat to the Bride, sits down on the deck, and curls its arms around its legs.
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Finally, with an aggrieved sigh, she breaks what is becoming a lingering silence.
"I won't bite you. You're fine," she says, with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
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No, it was the potential for something else entirely that was making it uncomfortable.
"I'm not going to talk about feelings," it says quickly, just to get ahead of that possibility. And shoot it down. Emphatically.
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"I'm sorry, you don't talk about feelings? What the fuck is with that?"
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"I don't like it. Talking about feelings is terrible." Except now that it says that, it suddenly starts to experience a weird, sinking feeling in its organics.
(Fuck. Was she not going to talk about feelings at all? Shit.)
(...Only 469 seconds to go until the door opened again.)
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"Amen to that," she says in reply, folding her arms over her knees. "You seem to hate it even more than I do."
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"Feelings suck," it says, as it relaxes. Great, they're agreed; and now that is knows that the Bride also does not want to talk about feelings, ever, its Performance Reliability ticks up by 2.4%.
Still 458 seconds until they can leave, though. SecUnit falls silent, apparently perfectly happy to just sit there quietly until escape is possible. (It also starts playing episode 234 of Sanctuary Moon on its internal systems.)
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Even she wouldn't go so far as to dislike the concept. Unintentionally, SecUnit is bringing about the very outcome it would like to prevent. Her curiosity is starting to outweigh her anger.
"What happened to you to make you despise the very concept?"
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Having them be manipulated though sounds terrible, so it makes a sympathetic noise. Which it almost immediately regrets, because why is she talking about feelings.
How dare you betray it like this, Bride.
"Nothing," it says, in a sulky, defensive way that absolutely suggests that nothing is a complete and utter lie. "They're just terrible. Objectively."
(435 seconds to go. Fuck.)
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"Oh, now that's just objectively wrong. There's a few that are pretty great - joy, humour. They're fun. Desire - there's one I've made good use out of from time to time. A lot of them are shit, and the reasons they get set off are even shittier - but come on now."
She arches a brow at it.
"Someone metaphorically shat on you from a high height, seems like. Possibly a whole world of someones."
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hey roomie
Still, she's a little relieved when she finds the Bride back in their shared bunk area. She even brought a few sandwiches with her, in case the other woman needs to eat.
"Here, these are for you," she says, her face and voice gentle. Not here to push, just offering some sustenance.
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"Goddammit," she swears, balling her fists.
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Because that's what this is, yes? Nerves. They've all been rattled by what happened, what was done to them. Some, more than others.
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But not saying anything isn't helping, is it? And Mina's there, just hovering, and is likely to stubbornly remain there trying to help her.
At least that's how she justifies showing the crack in her armour.
"They made me into a single-minded scientist," she says, finally. "Just like him. Just like my creator."
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Still, this is her bunk, too- though she could find another if necessary.
"...Ah," she says when the Bride finally elaborates. So, she became, essentially, the one person she never wants to be. "I wish I could understand why they did all this to us. Even if it wouldn't change anything. And it's terribly easy to say that we aren't to blame for the things those - other versions of ourselves say and do. But I feel culpable as well."
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"They've got a lot to answer for..." she says, with gritted teeth. "Problem is, heh, here I am, feeling it all again like it was yesterday. God, it was fucked up."
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Mina sighs heavily. "It all seems so... pointlessly cruel." She can't help but think of all the secrets she now carries, from people who otherwise wouldn't have confided in her. And for what? She can't do anything to help them.
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"You aren't that person," she says instead. "They can't make you be that person, not truly."
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She sighs, rubbing her face with her hands.
"He wasn't a good man, my creator. Not really. But fresh-born to a terrifying world, I thought he was. And now it feels like I've been inside his head. Seen the world as he did, through the lens of cold obsession."
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She pauses.
"I had to. He created me to be...marriage fodder. Then fell in love with me? Or just desired me, I'll never know which. But all I was ever meant to be was a thing. A possession."
It may be becoming clear why she's so adverse to being manipulated.
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