Library [11.04]

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Karal opened the library automatically, barely paying attention to what he was doing.

He was distracted, knowing it was likely to be the last time he'd ever get to do so. And by Not Thinking about all the other things he'd soon be doing for the last time ever.

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First Period [11.4]

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Karal tidied the counter, making sure everything was in its place, before checking in the returned books.

Second Period [11.4]

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He was in the stacks, just wandering.

Third Period [11.4]

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He was still in the stacks, but now he was tidying again.

Not that the books really needed tidying, but Karal enjoyed it.

Lunch [11.4]

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It was lunch time, and the library was closed, so Karal sat down at a table, intending to work out everything he'd need to do before he left. Instead, he found himself praying. Formless and wordless, because he didn't know how to shape the words for what he wanted.

It was warm in the library, and Karal was tired. After a time, he found his eyes closing, his eyelids just too heavy to keep open, and before he knew what was happening, he'd put his head down on the table. It wasn't sleep, it was more like the near-trance he fell into when he was meditating. Aware but not, awake but distant.

It grew warmer, the smells and sounds of a Karsite summer filling his awareness. His eyes opened slowly.

The library was suffused with golden light, pouring through the shelves, crawling across the floor. Everywhere it touched was transformed. Gone was the industrial carpeting, the utilitarian shelves. In their place was the warm wood and stained glass of the Temple at Sunhame.

He could hear the low hum of priests chanting, the crackle of the Presence Flame.

The light poured in from everywhere, focussed on a single point that traced a slow path across the floor. Karal stood, barely aware of what he was doing, and followed.

It led him to Special Collections. The door was partly open.

Heart pounding, he touched it. There was a flash of white that blinded him, a crack like lightning striking stone, and then he was sitting up at the table, eyes wide, gasping for breath.

Afternoon [11.4]

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It hadn't been a dream. Karal, sitting at the counter, hands folded, was certain of that. He glanced at the door to Special Collections. I gave my word I'd not go in without permission.

With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to go in at all. I will ask for permission at the club, he decided. And granted or no, I must go in. Vkandis Sunlord outweighs human authority.

OOC

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Sleepings now! Weekend tomorrow! YAY!