so good night unto you all - LIBRARY RETURN

[libraryassistants]

Who: The Editors, one and all
What: The fight is over, the pieces remain... and the Editors head back 'home'
When: Dawn of the Final Day Sunrise after the attack
Where: Leaving Montica, back to the Library
Content warnings: Please make sure to put CW in headers!

By the time morning comes around again, the fires are beginning to die down, thanks to the many efforts of the citizenry to keep them under control. The rebel vampires too have been largely dealt with. These two seemingly insurmountable obstacles were only possible thanks to a combination of factors: the Umbra not being as blind to their human servants as their opposition would have thought, defectors from the Orlocks who were able to counter-act some of their magic, the following Amalia gathered and deployed from Laurelthirst, some suspicious (though welcome) help from suspiciously new arrivals, and of course, House Guildulf throwing their own into the fray to ally with the vampires for this confrontation.

A unity the likes of which Montica has never truly seen.

As the sun rises, there are few left who are able to fight at all; the rebels are beaten, and even the forces built up by both the vampires and werewolves are exhausted or diminished, leaving no one able to take advantage. Citizens of both sides flee indoors, and the remaining rebels are forced to vanish into the woods once more, weakened and unable to strike again any time soon. But there are still repairs to be done, physically and otherwise. Will this unity last beyond tonight? Will young love and youthful hope prevail? Those are the questions that settle over a weary Montica, as light pours into the city once more.

And then, the world begins to fade, static taking over the senses, as the Editors return to the Library.

Welcome back, Editors

It looks much the same as they left it, though the makings of a masquerade are no longer arranged as finely, a few scorch marks here and there, and for some reason there’s some amazing optical illusions on the floor panelling that makes them look like actual manhole covers. Alas, no sewers lay beneath. It may still take Actors a bit of time to shake off the old-new memories, and for some reason the fluorescent lighting seems harsher on the skin than it has any right too. Good thing that the stacks cast long shadows.

The customary tea cart is set up in the Lobby again, and it seems some improvements have been made. The coffee still isn’t strong, but’s far more drinkable than it has been, and there’s an added decaf option now! The tea has still been overstepped, and the stale cookies have been replaced by scones that are hard as rocks, but clearly someone’s getting the message that there are improvements needed. Clearly the tea cart was the place to start.

If someone for some reason doesn’t want stale scones, there’s also a child sized food truck in the lobby, with a sign out front boasting a variety of tamales, including: black beans and cheese, birria, chicken, fire scorpion, man suffering to death via battle wound, and beef. Upon approach, what look like fuzzy puppets pop up to… take your order? They don’t say much, or rather, they make a single noise over and over that seems to be them communicating, but the tamales are good. Just… don’t try to look in the truck. They’ll screech, vanish, and then no tamales for you.

Meanwhile, the bulletin board has a cheerful sign decorated with colorful blocks, declaring: “Join us in the Children’s Area for Lego Club!” Upon locating the room in question, Editors will discover boxes among boxes of legos of various shapes and sizes. There are some ‘how to’ guides for various builds (including a ‘research space ship’ and a ‘vampire’s castle’), but also plenty of encouragement for people to make their own creations! Unlike normal creations, these will actually stick around for a while after they’re finished, and there’s a nice little table where people can display and share what they’ve made.

The Assistants, it seems, are nowhere to be seen: the ‘back in 5’ sign is still in place at the help desk. Still, even without their ‘helpful’ guidance, some facets of the Library may come more easily to some in the aftermath of Montica’s troubles.

[Due to the resolution of the Story, any skills tagged Archivist in the skill tree cost one less skill point (minimum of 1) until the next Story. This can stack with a normal Archivist bonus!]

Comments

Roboute Guilliman | OTA

[guilliman]

Mortality.

To understand, on a fundamental level, the accident of one's birth. The unremarkability of one's life. The brief decades available to make their mark on the world... or to just choose not to, to decide instead to just fade into memory, and then out of memory.

There has always been a quiet part of Roboute that has envied that. The part that dreamed, so many thousand years ago, of abandoning the war for the soul of the galaxy, and instead living out the rest of his days as a humble farmer on a forgotten planet. Even then, he'd known that it wasn't possible for someone.. something like him to fade away quietly.

...but Lord Roberte Guildulf of Montica had that chance. He had risen to power, to influence. He had found it to be too much for him. And he had, at the end, given it up and walked away.

He reappears in the library still cuddled close to Jadis -- to Hisako, and as their memories return to them, until she flees they remain with in each others' personal space. Almost assuredly long enough for one or all of his brothers to see them so close to each other.

Then she is gone. (He sees her little ceramic flute on the ground, and snatches it up without a second thought.) And he is. He has a mortal lifetime in his head. The necklace clutched in his fist, he staggers away from the group still in the lobby. He doesn't know where. Anywhere. Anywhere else, while he tries to make sense of the way his hearts ache.

Wives. Children. The quiet certainty of death to come, one day...

It will be a long time before he stops wandering through the endless aisles. He's more focused on the memories of that false-life than on his surroundings. It's easy for anyone to happen upon him. Or for him to happen upon anyone else.

[curzed]

The mystery of where Roboute is, is one of the ones that can be solved immediately. Getting snuggly with a Stormwing tends to be very visible, as is her spectacular fleeing.

And as the Lord of the Ultramarines lurches away, thoroughly discombobulated by his first brush with living someone else's life, trapped inside someone else's life, Curze is watching. Trailing, at a bit of a distance. He's not saying anything yet, he's waiting for the right moment. For most of the fog of another existence to fade back into the bitter realities of their actual lives.

He's patient. There's time.

[guilliman]

It's not very long at all, before the disorientation resolves enough that Roboute becomes aware of his brother following him. There are but a few reasons he can think of for why he's doing so, and far fewer that he has the inclination to deal with right now.

So.

He allows himself another five minutes of much more focused, deliberate walking. Forcing himself to treat the experience like he has every other trauma he's experienced in his centuries of life. Taking it apart. Piece by piece. Categorizing. Compartmentalizing. It won't last forever. But it can get him through this next few minutes.

And then he stops, and sighs, and knowing that he's almost definitely not going to be that lucky, reaches for the simplest and most desirable possible reason Konrad might be here.

"Fear not. I have your knife."

[curzed]

He's patient, and he waits. That the Library brought Guilliman here and then immediately launched him into another person's life, even if it was only a false narrative, seemed callous. It would taunt him, as it had Sanguinius, with an impossible thing. A proper family. Children of his own that weren't transhuman war machines.

A reasonable chance at peace.

Though he'd never endured it, Curze could guess. Remembered all too keenly how their winged sibling had acted upon returning from his first story. Maybe this time there would be less reason to escalate into violence, but there was no reason to push too soon and find out otherwise.

"I have others." Of course he has others. He has MANY others. "I had thought to leave it in the Story, see if a sequel would ever arrive and find out what happened to it." His tone is terribly, terribly dry. "What harm could leaving that primitive city an adamantium knife possibly cause?"

[guilliman]

So, like... does that mean he's letting Roboute keep the knife? He'll give it back as soon as Konrad might ask, of course, but he finds himself reluctant to do so before then.

"Ask Appienne," he says, voice dry but underlaid by a vicious satisfaction.

Then he snorts, a sound he's made a thousand times before, now seeming much more bestial in hindsight.

"Though if you come to point out some perceived hypocrisy, you can save your breath. You made his death kinder than Guildulf would have."

[curzed]

He hasn't asked for it back yet. "No. I have no need to claim hypocrisy. Justice was served. And a few nights later, served further still by the second-born son." And himself, again, fully in support of what to some would seem to be disproportionate retribution.

Curze didn't believe retribution had a 'disproportionate' setting. "Were any of it real, it would be generations before those rivals dared try anything again.. if ever." If any had been missed. If there were a few skulking about to even think of rebuilding.. "Besides which. He was not you, so hypocritical actions are impossible. He did what was necessary to ensure the safety of his pack."

The Night Haunter considers Roboute for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side. "Tell me, brother." The only thing he found personally ridiculous, was the romance that he'd smelled developing. "What is it like, being trapped in the mind of a mortal man?"

[guilliman]

"You were concerned about him as well." Himself. Konrad. Magnus... "Sigwulf was Sanguinius?"

He nearly gets caught upon how difficult that's going to be to approach -- oh, his poor brother! -- and then Konrad pulls him away from it.

"Ah." He sighs again, and rubs his face with his hand. Appreciating, at least, having full mobility again. "Small." He turns his head up, eyes still closed. "Quiet." Opening his eyes, looking upon his nightmare kindred. "There was a limit to what he could do. There was an end ahead of him."

The mournful envy in his voice is an answer without an answer, though he's certain the Eighth will make him say it.

[curzed]

He was concerned, but he's not about to say so. His grip on what is and is not appropriate for dealing with others is tenuous, and whether his worry over them was insulted pride that anyone dared make a primarch ordinary, or actual personal concern he didn't know and didn't want to investigate too deeply. "He was. Roberte's pet witch identified him early. And you."

Not that Curze hadn't already been looking.

"Do you miss it? Would you stay, had you the choice?"

[guilliman]

"I will miss it." Truth. "But I would not have stayed." Another truth. "Sola mors officio liberat, they say, you know."

Only in death does duty end.

"And I do not think our Father would have allowed it, if I had dared to try."

Re: Roboute Guilliman | OTA

[codeswitchcraft]

"Fath--"

Siobhan cuts herself off before she can finish the automatic response to seeing him so soon after being Sigrid Guildulf. She's a bit tired and drained from all the weeping she had done after the story ended, but she is trying to not hide away from everyone, no matter how tempting it would be.

[guilliman]

"S --" No. "Mamzel." He's clearly struggling with exactly how to approach this. "I fear that I never asked your name, when we spoke before all of this."

Carefully, carefully, he lowers himself to the floor, sitting not quite criss-cross. His joints scream, as they do every single time. But he will not stop. Even when he feels -- less monstrous than he does right now, he does not enjoy towering above the heads of all in his vicinity.

"How do you fare, now that we are ourselves again?"

[codeswitchcraft]

"Better than I was immediately afterward," she says, frankly. "It helped that I could talk with my people from home."

She stays standing in order to minimize the height difference.

"And— it's all right that you did not. I don't think I asked yours either. It's Siobhan now. Siobhan Greenwood." She looks at him thoughtfully before admitting, "It was Sigrid once. But it has been some months since I went by that name."

[guilliman]

He nods. "Siobhan Greenwood," he repeats, pronunciation perfect. "I am Roboute Guilliman."

Row-boot-ay Ghoul-lih-man. Yeesh.

"I have been, challenged. Trying to make peace with it all. Mamzel Hisako, who was Jadis, as well. My brothers have not been entirely helpful, but not -- entirely unhelpful, either. Sanguinius. With the wings? Was Sigwulf." And at least their shared experience means she'll understand at least part of why that's a problem.

[codeswitchcraft]

She pronounces his name under her breath, trying to get it right. She's got the slightest hint of a Germanic accent to her words, but otherwise does well enough.

"It was challenging to me too," Siobhan admits. "For many reasons." But she frowns deeply. "Sigwulf... and your brother in truth! Oh, that must be so strange, to have a brother become your child for the story, especially when the relationship between parent and child is so strained. Even if you are the far-older sibling, and I do not know if you are, it would be so very strange."

[guilliman]

Roboute nods. "Just like that." Do you know how many people mangle his name terribly, or just give up and call him 'Lord Regent' or the like? Most of them. Her determination to get it right is winning her a great many points right now.

"He is the older, by many measures. And I have always admired him greatly. So it is even more complex. I still have not found him, to speak with him about it all."

[codeswitchcraft]

Siobhan nods. "And given the nature of the relationship between you and he in the story..." She frowns. "I understand a little bit. Sigwulf's side of it. Because my own—" She almost says 'thrice-damned' but stops herself. "—father wanted a son very much, but only had me. So when his old friend died and left behind a son and daughter, while he did not formally adopt them, he did begin to treat the son as if he were his own. It is hard, to want to love and honor your father but knowing you will always be second place to another."

[aetherweaver]

Nara'a is sitting in the aisles, eyes open but mind clearly somewhere else - until he notices the aisle widening, pulling away from him as everything becomes bigger to accommodate a primarch. He hesitates as the man approaches - he's not really met this one, but he looks like -

- it doesn't matter. And it probably doesn't matter that he looks like Nero, albeit with fangs, ears, a tail, and slight claws that are covered by gloves. "... Hello." His voice even sounds like the young lord's.

[guilliman]

Were Roboute to guess who the young man 'had been,' he'd probably be correct. He doesn't.

"Good day," he says instead, gently. "I hope you will forgive my intrusion. I shall not be long."

He begins to scan the shelves, not seeming quite sure what he's looking for.

[aetherweaver]

"No, it's all right." He stands, letting his tail flick uncertainly behind him. "Is there - can I help you with it?"

The same eagerness to please, the same gentle manner. It's not like it's hard. "I don't think we've met outside of... I don't think we've met. I'm Nara'a Sunvara."

[guilliman]

"A distraction, as much as anything." He can afford that much honesty.

And he still tries to be polite, even when he's in the throes of an existential crisis. So he turns to address the young man, instead of just talking to him out of the corner of his mouth.

"We have not. I am Roboute Guilliman." Row-boot-ay Ghoul-lih-man. Don't worry, he won't expect you top pronounce it. "Some of my brothers are also here; it may not be difficult to guess who they are," he adds, an intentional dry joke.

[aetherweaver]

"I see. I apologize for distracting you from your distraction. And if you cannot pronounce my name, I understand." Na-ra-ah Soon-var-ah, at least from how he said it.

He nods. "Roboute Guilliman. Do you prefer going by the former, latter, or full name?" As for his brothers... "I believe I've met several of them, yes." The height is not subtle, at least.

Wandering

[keytarheroine]

There were battlesongs that Claire Ryefield sung, as she fell on the Brando and Orlock. One of them went, You’d weigh your purse against our soul and word, choose luxury and comfort o’er our rights, who'd treat me as an illness to be cured, I'd have you taste the cobblestones tonight.

Claire Ryland, in her leather jacket - her battledress - sings something else, yet the same song.

"It's your pocketbook, against my personhood!
Your comfort, against my rights!
You wanna cure me, you wanna fix me?
I wanna kick you to the curb!"

Then she notices the shelves fall away, and, knowing there are only three people this could mean, she turns and looks up.

"Primarch," she says, controlling her breathing. "I... think there's some context you need, when you're ready for it."

[guilliman]

Roboute raises his eyebrows.

"Is there?"

He is tired and he is grieving, in a way he can't quite wrap his head around. And right now, he can't imagine what kind of context this young woman might have that he needs. But he will still hear her out.

[keytarheroine]

She sighs.

“Iris Viola, that is, Paulette Iris Guildulf was… very much based on someone from my own true history. An Iris Carr.”

And she will let him ask the questions.

Endless Aisles

[longnoseofthelaw]

Angua could hear someone coming just fine, but when she turned the corner and actually saw him, she froze in her tracks. Her body, acting entirely on automatic, stood to attention and saluted, stepping to the side so he could pass her by. She had never met this man before, but something about him screamed authority. He wasn't just used to be in command, he was born for it.

He reminded her of Carrot. They even looked a bit similar, though one was at 150% scale of the other.