unfinishedlibrary | Careful of the stacks

Who: EVERYONE!
What: A bunch of Editors walk into a library...
When: October 31st - November 13
Where: The Unfinished Library
Content warnings: Please add them as needed in the comment titles!

Welcome to the Library, Editors.

As the new residents drop into the Library, they are bound to have questions. Unfortunately it seems no one (except perhaps someone on the phone) appears to have any answers. But there is a nice little cart with a carafe of too weak coffee, a pot of too strong tea, assorted creams and sugar packets, and what appear to be leftover boxed shortbread cookies. There’s a sign inviting people to help themselves but reminding them not to take any food or drinks into the stacks, or touch any of the books with their grubby cookie hands. But aside from this little display and the nametags they’re all given, which do reappear whenever removed for the first week (where do they keep coming from?), the Editors are more or less left alone.

The Library is eternal, or at least it seems that way, unbothered by its new inhabitants. It certainly does not seem like this is anything unusual within its operation. Are there other sections of the Library with Editors, tucked into a different part of the stacks? Have there been Editors here before, and the ones here are simply a replacement? It’s impossible to say, just that the Library seems quite prepared for them. The refrigerators are stocked with appropriate (if generic) foodstuffs, any tantrums in front of the circulation desk are completely ignored, and attempts to set the Library on fire fizzle out before anything can even catch.

However, after a few days, some of the scenery in the Library seems to be changing. Little singing bowls and white noise makers pop up on various shelves and counters, yoga mats appear tucked under the bunk beds (plenty for everyone, somehow), and some of the rooms have started playing relaxing, meditative music over unseen speakers. More confusingly, there are also small UFOs hanging by string from the lower ceilings of the contained rooms, which on closer reflection are revealed to simply be two paper plates glued together and painted silver. In the beginning they’re quite sparse, but by the end of the second week they are everywhere and impossible to ignore.

At the start of the second week, there is a possible hint as to why, for at least part of it. On the table by the circulation desk there is a sign: “This Week’s Recommended Reading: Invasion of the Body Snatchers!” Next to it, there is a sign up sheet: a waitlist to check-out the ‘reading.’ (There is no explanation or apology for it actually being a movie.)

[ooc note: The Library prompts from the TDM can be considered canon to the game. Remember any of the locations listed in the setting are fair game. Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

S'alright. Mostly trying to avoid another rules lecture from Dick.

[But of course, once Charles asks, he sighs.]

Sorry, I don't have any kind of ability to do that. But... if it helps, it's-- [He pauses, trying to figure out how to frame this.] Consider it like everything just stops, while you're here. Your friend is in the exact same situation he was when you came here, and it will stay that way.

[He expected that response honestly, that he couldn't, but that didn't stop it feeling like a punch to the gut all the same.]

Right. Right, yeah, that's- no that's fine- [The reply comes out almost sharp, and Charles lets out a soft hiss of a breath as he catches himself, with a little wince.] Sorry. I'm not... not takin' it out on you, you're just tellin' me what you can. I know that.

[A faint pause, the next unnecessary breath a little shaky, a quiet creak of fingers tensing and relaxing against the receiver of the phone.]

It's just... bloody hell, Charles, get a grip- [He huffs a faint noise that might've been an attempt at a laugh to diffuse the tension, but it's Edwin, so the sound is more thin, tight than anything.] I just hate not knowin' yeah? Never been able to know for sure Edwin's alright without seein' for myself. He says he’s fine all the time, even when he isn’t. Especially when he isn’t. And hearin' that everything's just... stopped back home, I dunno if it's better or worse because I can't check-

[His voice is getting more tense, words coming a bit faster again before he seems to catch himself once more, strangling the emotion back to something under his control, however tenuous that feels in the moment. When he speaks again, it's quieter, more measured but also a bit more unsteady.]

Sorry. Really. I.... I'm not tryin' to make this your problem. I just...

[Worry. Too much probably, but there's nothing for it, nothing to stop that need to make sure that Edwin is safe, to see with his own eyes that it's true. After decades practically joined at the hip, it was unnatural to be away from Edwin for so long.]

I'll deal with it. Promise. I just... needed to ask, yeah?

Hey. [Phillip's voice is quiet, gentle.] I get it. I do. I hate not knowing shit like that myself. Honestly a lot of the time I'd rather know and it be horrible rather than not knowing.

[He pauses, letting Charles have a moment to get it out.]

Do you wanna... talk about him, or something? I am not a therapist or anything but... I can let you get it off your chest if you want.

Mate, if you were a therapist I'd be runnin' the opposite direction, yeah?

[The joke was weak to be sure, but it gave him a moment to get his head on at least a bit more straight. And as if anyone thought was going to pass up a chance to talk up Edwin, well they had another thing coming.]

Edwin's... absolute legend. Smart as a whip, a right proper sort, maybe a bit too serious for his own good, but that’s half his charm. You’d get it if you knew him, he's proper brills. We’ve been… us for so long I don’t know how to be anything else. You don’t spend that long with someone without them becoming part of how you function, right? We’re sort of glued together at the seams at this point. He doesn't really need it usually but I protect him, watch out for him. Promised I would.

[Even if he'd only ever made that vow to himself, in any serious manner beyond joking about being the brawn of their little outfit to Edwin's brains. Some of the tension was bleeding from his voice as he spoke though, as if it was impossible for him to hold it really, when talking about his companion like this.]

Everyone always acts like it's weird, how close we are. But it’s just... Edwin. He's the only reason I even stuck around at all, y'know? Was ready to just... I dunno, cork it and swan off like I was supposed to, then he showed up and... I just ran away with him, an' never stopped. Just met him sure, but it felt right.

[Phillip can't see the shrug, but he can likely hear it in Charles' voice, as if it really went without saying.]

S'what you do for your best mate. {He can't help but let out a soft laugh, abashed but something a little mournful under the pretend cheer.] Cor, listen to me. I sound pathetic. Bet you’re thinkin’ ‘this bloke’s obsessed.’ But it’s not that. I just get twitchy when he’s not in arm’s reach. Occupational hazard of being dead together this long, innit?

[Phillip listens quietly on the other end, just... letting Charles get it all out. It's only when he stops that the man speaks again.]

I mean, I've never been dead together with anyone, so I'll take your word for it. But yeah, you guys definitely sound close. I know I reacted poorly to just going to a separate college from my best friend for a while, so... I mean, fair that this is fucking you up a bit.

What did you guys do as ghosts together? Just... hang?

[While he's still worried, tense about the whole thing? Charles does feel at least a little bit steadier in the moment for being able to vent, to talk about Edwin. It won't last, he can tell that much, but even a momentary reprieve will help him keep a grip on himself at the very least. He'd been... in a complex emotional place back home, and unfortunately he hadn't seemed to leave those issues behind when he'd been brought here.]

Nah, we're investigators! [A soft huff of a laugh, fond but clearly proud.] Dead Boy Detectives! Been solvin' cases for decades now.

Really? [That gets a chuckle out of him.] Well, I guess you'd be in a good position to do a lot of that. Though, uh, I guess you'd probably need someone alive to talk to if you wanted anything done about it. Do people know much about ghosts in your world?

You'd be surprised how much we can get sorted because we're dead! [Charles laughs lightly.] Folk are... I mean they've got stories? Movies and superstitions and stuff, and if a ghost is hauntin' a place they can make themselves known sometimes. But usually they can't see us unless they're like... magic somehow, or they've been near death somehow.

Oh, no, I definitely believe you're more effective than living people. [He chuckles too.] But like, do you need someone who can see you to... make arrests or some shit? I have no idea how that kind of thing works.

Nah, if it's stuff the cops can solve, that's not usually what we handle. We take care of... like ghosts who need help with like... movin' on, or findin' someone, or like someone bein' harassed by some sorta magic monster or witch, yeah? Cops don't believe in that stuff. Just write a poor bloke off if he came into the station talkin' about how his girlfriend's crawlin' up the walls and spoutin' ancient Sumerian or sommat like that, yeah?

Aaaah, gotcha. I mean, figures cops would be shit about that. They're shit about most things.

Still, sounds like a hell of a way to spend your afterlife. [yes he knows it's a stupid joke.]

'Bout as useful as a screen door on a submarine at the best of times.

[Charles can't help but snort a laugh at the joke, corny or no.]

I dunno, helps to keep the spirits up, yeah?

Careful of the stacks - LIBRARY LOG

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