#earthrunes

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In the library, so lovingly cared for, anyone coming in to read, relax, or ...oh, catalog will find that every single book has been replaced by a copy of Atlas Shrugged. Oh some are hard cover, many are paperback. Various printings and editions, but each one? Atlas Shrugged!

Zara is walking in from the trods, a satchel slung over one boney shoulder as Bronte rides the other. 1122, as always, is nestled in her braid - a veritable menagerie.

The thanes by now are used to her, and know she has clearance. One nods to her respectfully as she passes by.

A polite nod back - manners, always!

Bronte is giddy. She loves her hoard at Zara's house, but she does love visiting other libraries.

A stop by the kitchen - could she pretty please have a pot of tea? She could prepare it herself if things are busy...

the Steward herself is there, and smiles, "Miss Zara? No trouble. Sir August actually told me your favorite type and we keep some on hand." She has it prepared, "Should I have anyone check on you in an hour for a refill?"

"An hour? Mmm... maybe closer to two. Tis only me, nu? But thank you. I am guessing August is at mass?"

"I believe so, or perhaps lessons. He is always studying" Delores comments.

"He is a scholar. And in college now, too. But he seems to have found some distractions from his books, of late." A little grey smile.

"Well," She smiles at that, "The baroness is a distracting woman, and she adores him dearly."

"Distracting, aye." A sniff as she takes the tray. "Thank you for the tea, Miss Delores."

'You're most welcome, Miss Zara" A pause, 'Oh my, that's an fine dragon."

"Oh! Bronte! Bronte, this is Delores. She is the steward here - no, not like Boromir..." She smiles at the wyrm, a warm, indulgent expression that softens her hollow features. "Bronte is a bookwyrm."

Bronte says "Salutations"

"How fine," " Delores says , "A bookwyrm? Well, I never did until now. There's a story in that but I shan't detain either of you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bronte. And always nice to have your expertise, Miss Zara"

"Thank you for all of your hospitality, Miss Delores. It is a lovely library." She bobs in a semi-curtsey (balancing the tea) before heading for the library.

“Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.
Awake! arise! the athlete's arm
Loses its strength by too much rest;
The fallow land, the untilled farm
Produces only weeds at best.” Bronte says eagerly as they head down the hallway

"Yes, darling, it is time to work..." She opens the door.

Bronte sniffs the air as soon as the door opens, nd then makes a face, like one makes when the wind makes one aware of a garbage heap

And... to Zara's keen eyes that pierce the dark, it is obvious.

Atlas Shrugged, Atlas Shrugged, Atlas Shrugged! Everywhere Atlas Shrugged! It ..can't be ? Surely... some of them are..

Ceramic and tea everywhere! Zara stares in the darkened room, black eyes wide with shock that is slowly fermenting into wrath.

“I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded,
Without knowledge, or lustre, or name.” Bronte wails

1122 feels the building storm, and taps on Zara, 'Deep breathing. Deep Breathin'

Tappy tap 'oooom, oooom'

She steps over the shards, spidery fingertips reaching to touch the spines... Rand, Rand, Rand....

Bronte has never been around Rand before, she only knows variety is gone, but she eyes the books then looks to Zara, "Raw and wriggling?' As if asking how it would taste? Should she..partake?

"Nay. Tis... poison. Foul. Taste it not." The back room! Her steps quicken, going to the haven of treasures...

Oh, this is where the leather bound copies, the fancy gold ink looking copies are. sadly, there's all also Rand!

She hisses softly - the Dante, the chimerical treatises, the... the everything!

“The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.” Bronte sniffles out a quote from the Fault in Our Stars

1122 tries "M-E-D-I-T-A-T-E?"

"O-H-M?"

She pulls one of the hateful things from the shelf. "Speak thy tale, intruder volume, dark and fell, whisper to the whisperer and answer my questions well..."

Bronte sniffs at it, and looks a bit green

The cantrip takes the book

She twists the magic, a primal command for speech. "Describe the one who placed you on the shelf."

"Wise in Unwisdom, this creature came, giving up this garbage of infamy's fame. A strange reversal, given his form. Taking the trash some wouldd say is the norm. Short and slim, deft of step and hand. A broad grin, than he spreads as he can"

"Know you where the books of before went?"

"I saw only where I was, in a great old cart. And where i am now, no idea where to the others depart."

Another soft hiss. "Aye."

She re-shelves the book - even THIS book is treated with care, no shoving, no jamming of pages.

1122 suddenly types alarm on Zara's shoulder! "ALERT ALERT ALERT!"

"What?" She straightens, turning to look out at the room.

Not out, but further in, Bronte is still a young wyrm, childish, not entirely behaved, and she is sorting through one of the copies unable to help herself

"Bronte, no... tis hateful stuff. Heartless. A manifesto of selfishness and... aye, I will say it, banality."

Sheepishly, the Bookwyrm stops and hangs her little head . She was just curious.