unfinishedlibrary | perhaps you have learned it without a book

Entry tags:

perhaps you have learned it without a book - MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 1

Who: Readers and Actors galore!
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!

First Quarter Moon

Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.

Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.

(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)

Our Beginning

The Story begins as night makes its transition to morning. Montica is a city that never sleeps, and some Editors may find themselves taken aback at how the absence of sunlight has done nothing to deter the nightlife.

In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.

Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.

The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.

Welcome to Montica

Montica itself is a city built from stone, with the buildings packed closely together along cobblestone streets. Flowering vines creep along trellises, their gentle fragrance perfuming the air. The sky is clear and smog-free, the water flows cleanly, and a sense of magic drifts comfortably in the breeze.

The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.

To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.

To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.

No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.

It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.

The Market

At the centre of the city are Montica’s most dreary buildings. Markets are held here during the day, bright banners and exuberant stallholders calling out their wares. People of all kinds shop here, and it’s the best place to find quality goods. Some patrons give each-other hearty side-eyes, some sneer and mutter insults under their breath - but by and large, this a neutral zone, and the regular citizens treat it as such.

Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.

Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.

The Umbra Mansion

The sprawling building stands tall, overlooking the city of Montica. Vines budding with fragrant flowers grow up the sides of the building, curling around windowsills and balconies in a curated fashion. A large hedge maze sits at the rear of the mansion, behind the grand ballroom; and the gardeners are in top form today, brandishing tools at anyone who looks like they're about to enter it. It's one of many things being tidied up and decorated for the ball, so you'd better not get in their way.

The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.

Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.

During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.

On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.

Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.

[The info/plotting post can be found here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Illumination didn't want to risk injuring a nosy neighbour, and so the hound was tasked merely to 'recognize, alert, and detain'. (It can also hold several tennis balls! And was trained to fetch eggs.)

There's a clatter of noise as Illumination descends into the front room and runs over to the drone and hound. "...oh, oh dear, you're not native, are you? Apologies."

And with that, they dissolve the construct and free the drone. Assuming it doesn't zip away in an instant, they'll continue to speak to it. "I hope you're not hurt."

The drone is absolutely zipping away the moment it's freed.

It goes high up into the ceiling, away (hopefully) from any more invisible attackers, and turns to stare at Illumination.

This was a face it recognised; it was one of the new Library arrivals. But the purple skin and horns wasn't something it had seen in any of the locals. And they had said, You're not native.

It put the likelihood of this being a Reader, and not a Story character, at 96%.

The drone hovers. It doesn't come closer, but it doesn't try to leave, either.

"It's alright, darling. You're welcome to stay here, or go as you please, and if you're in touch with any others from, ah, elsewhere, they're welcome here too." It doesn't seem like the sort of mechanical creature that would want either tea or any kind of food that Illumination could offer, but good manners insist they do something.

Right then. It's only a little work to charm clean and line an overturned crate with an old tea towel. The drone is obviously not a cat or pigeon, but it seems like the proper course of action. The makeshift bed is placed up on a high shelf, by the open edge of the window. "The wards won't hold you in; they're to keep others out and warn me so I can slap on that repulsive glamour."

The drone hovers, for a moment. Then it flies down to wherever Illumination has put their journal, and taps it, before flying back up to the ceiling.

If they look within, they'll find a typed message that has been sent to them directly.

What did you do to the window.

"A modified ward. A sort of very basic magical 'net' that lets me know if someone is trying to come inside. Given time, it will get a bit better, but for now, this will have to do." A small, weak thing sketched into the window frame isn't much protection, which is why they had been up on the roof setting up sigils to coat the building.

"Are you familiar with different schools of thaumaturgy? Or would you rather it's just all lumped in with 'magic'?"

Ugh. 'Magic'.

Bullshit abilities, comes back the reply. Which means yes, magic is all lumped together, and no, it doesn't know a fucking thing about it.

It had to admit, though, that what they'd done was smart. After a moment, there's another written message.

Sounds useful, though. Kind of like a security system.

Edited 2026-01-25 03:52 (UTC)

"When done properly, magic can be standardized and repeatable. No more bullshit than chemistry." Can Illumination explain it all? No, but they have a keen interest in the burgeoning field of weak and strong thaum research. "No gods, no masters, just facts and results."

"And, thank you. I'd like to finish my work on the roof. If you want to come along, you're welcome to." They pause and consider what they're willing to offer. "It's hard work. Exacting. I won't be able to ward another place too soon after this one, if you wanted that."

It's different in every fucking place someone comes from, and it's not supposed to exist. That makes it bullshit, it says. Yeah, it wasn't accepting logical, reasoned arguments about the standardisation of magic right now.

The drone continues to hover. In fact, it hasn't even moved one millimetre from its position near the ceiling. It's a stillness that is all but impossible in the natural world.

...You want me to stay here?

It's just text, so its incredulousness doesn't really come across. But it is absolutely incredulous.

"Your choice, skipper." They've started to head back up stairs. The wood creaks, but it seems stable enough as they head into to attic. There's at least one stair with a big, chalk X on it that they step over.

"I'm going to ward this building and then sleep until I can get up and layer on a second coat of magic." Stepping from joist to joist in the attic, they stop and stand under a hole in the roof that's been covered by a tarp. Assuming that the drone followed, they put the journal down and leave it open. "You can stay here, stay where you are if it's safe, or you can wait a week or more and I can try to ward somewhere else for you."

The drone follows to the attic. Listens to them speak. But when she starts warding, somewhere in the middle of it all the drone disappears. It seems like it isn't planning to stay.

That is, not until almost a full cycle later, when she's working on that second layer. And this time, it's not just the tiny drone; there's a very tall individual standing just outside the front door.

It knocks, then waits with its hands in its pockets.

When Illumination answers the door, they're wearing the hated human glamour: not too tall, not too short, average in nearly every way. Their expression is one of polite, bland professionalism until they spot the drone and their smile slides into something genuine.

"Come in, both of you." As before, the front of the shop is tidy, mostly empty, and there's the edge of a bedroll visible beyond the counter.

There's a faint flash of surprise, at the fact that Illumination now looks, well, completely different. But SecUnit doesn't comment on it, and instead just walks into the building, avoid all eye contact with them.

As it turns out, with it is not just one drone, but two. One stays hovering above its head, while the other moves throughout the building, getting a good look at the place. (Three more are still outside, stationed at different vantage points to get a full view of all approach parts.

SecUnit, meanwhile, stands in the front of the shop, looking...awkward. Like it doesn't really know what to do with itself now.

Once everyone is inside, Lu closes the door and taps a chalk sigil they've marked on the lintel. With a shiver, they push aside the glamour and let it fall aside with a sigh of relief. "Even if I don't seen that false-face in the mirror or the window, it still feels awful."

"I don't have much here, but there's a deck of cards if you want to play solitaire, or you can clean or repair something if you've a burning desire. What passes for a kitchen is through there, but save the fireplace, it's in a state." Once Lu realizes that eye contact isn't forthcoming, they nod once and relax a little. Instead of looking at its face, they'll watch the hollow of its throat - the same spot on their own body where the colour change is most visible. "If any of you need anything, you can ask or take what you want."

"I need to finish the last of the ward layering before I can rest, and I'd like to use the bedroll then, but if you've been without somewhere secure, you might need the sleep more than I."

(SecUnit isn't looking at them when they let the glamour fall. But the drone is, having drifted closer to stare. That is weird.)

Then it makes a face. Yeah, it doesn't care about boring human card games, and it absolutely has no desire to start cleaning things.

"I'm fine. I have media," it says. No new ones, unfortunately, because this planet sucks. But it's still got some serials downloaded from the last Story world that it can watch. Then it pauses.

Does Illumination know what it is? It didn't see them hanging around when it was...offline. For a moment its tempted to keep up the ruse, keep pretending that it's human.

But that's not going to work anymore.

"...I don't sleep," it says. It's face twists briefly with conflicted emotions. "At all."

Edited 2026-01-26 00:38 (UTC)

"You'd think that the library would at least make sure we had something to read." Soon, once they have time and energy, they will head out into the city and return with whatever is good to read. Is this a city with public libraries or are they still on a private system?

"That's alright." A pause. They cock their head, breathe deeply, and look it over from head to toe. "Are you separate from your familiars? I would apologize if it's rude to ask, but I'm not particularly sorry about it. You're welcome to ask me any thing you care to."

"And, of course, tell me nothing, should you wish to. Although, I would like to know what I ought to call you."

It frowns. "My familiars?" (What the fuck were familiars?)

Then there's a pause, before it says, "SecUnit." Because fuck it, might as well at this point. "Except in front of the Story people. Then call me Rin."

Then it waits, tense, for them to reply. Do they know what a SecUnit is? Do they know enough to be afraid?

"The little flying fellows. If I saw them at home, I'd call them constructs, but they're far more delicate than any I've met before." In Yesh my-Ayin, there are the first curious rumblings that some constructs might be conscious, and those in the know are well aware that it's more than a rumour.

"And it is good to know your name, SecUnit." There's no fear there, and no recognition either. "I'll work both names into the wards, just in case."

It doesn't manage to suppress the face it makes at the word constructs.

Yeah, that word definitely means something to it.

"They're not constructs," it says. "They're drones." But it can't quite bring itself to say, It's me, I'm the construct.

"Apologies, dear. I'm used to using that word for all life built from shaped material - cloth, metal, clay, fabric, and so on." Again, it is not a concept that troubles them. Drones are a comfortable idea. Homey, even.

"I won't misuse it again."

"...They're not alive."

They're not even bots. Just tiny mechanical devices, that need something else to control them. Without input from SecUnit, the only thing they could do was continue on with their last orders.

(Its face is still doing things. They clearly have an entirely different definition of the word 'construct', but it doesn't really want to correct them. The last thing it wants to do is to get into further discussion about exactly what a construct is. (Which was, it knew, stupid. It already introduced itself as SecUnit.))

"Your...magic thing," it says, in what is transparently an attempt to chance the subject. "Can it hide scents?"

"Yes, I can hide, change, or just make something uninteresting." Each has pros and cons, but depending on what SecUnit would like, it's possible.

"I can't today. I've spent too much of myself with the wards, but once they settled, and that should be tomorrow, I can start on the problem." They're already mentally sketching out how to build on its natural scent. Or maybe just find a mimic? "Are the wolves giving you grief?"

(Make something uninteresting? Could SecUnit get that for like, forever? It really likes the sound of that one.)

"...They found where I was staying. Twice." And it looks deeply displeased about this. "Do your wards hide scents?"

Because if they don't, it might have to try and hide somewhere else until she can do her thing again. It doesn't want to risk jeopardising her hide-out just because werewolves keep being nosy about how it smells.

"I don't smell human either, and that's why I'm taking the time to layer the magic. First, to encourage folk to walk on, then, if they come closer, to hide what's inside, and finally to stall intruders." With a sigh, Lu leans against the counter. It's been a lot of effort and if they hadn't done similar things back home, working out all the castings would be even worse.

"If you need to run, there's a partially collapsed smuggler's door into the sewers, and if you want to hole up away from the entrance, you can take any room you like."

Whatever Lu's life was like before the Library, it appears that this need to camouflage themselves has been ingrained into them.

SecUnit relaxes, just a little. Okay. So maybe it would be safe.

Not that it wasn't going to take its own precautions. Really, when it comes the need to camouflage oneself, SecUnit could relation.

"...I have other drones watching the perimeter," it says. "They'll alert me if anyone approaches."

"That's good to hear. What I can do is limited to just the physical walls of the building - if someone is standing and staring across the lane, I don't really have any way of knowing that we're due for company." SecUnit isn't the only one that relaxes there. It's a tough lot to try and do it all by one's self.

"Thank you, for making the trek over here, and I'll leave you in peace while I go finish up for the day."

Our Beginning

Welcome to Montica

The Market

The Umbra Mansion

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject