fandomhigh | Special Collections, Sunday Morning

Late last night, Face had discovered something that had pointed the library group to a potential lead - a solution.

The only problem: it'd been hidden in Special Collections.

As per usual.

In the morning, a group made themselves ready...

John Constantine	"This is a bloody fucking stupid idea," John ~~bitched~~ announced as he stomped out of his office, so rumpled it looked like he might have slept there (he did). "Special Collections isn't a field trip, kids. It's a godsdamned demon in its own right and it likes to eat people for funsies." Something behind the door of Special Collections rumbled ominously, and Constantine rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut the fuck up. I'm giving you a compliment, you mad bastard." "Now here's the deal." Somehow he suddenly looked less hungover and much more serious. "She's a sentient repository of dangerous magical knowledge. She's guarded it for gods know how long, and she generally doesn't like people mucking about on her insides trying to steal from her horde. Which, can't say I blame her, no lady likes an idiot who doesn't know what they're doing." CONSTANTINE. CHILDREN PRESENT. "Which is to say be fuckin' polite, stay on the paths if at all possible, and be quick about it. As dangerous a lady as she is, you aren't alone in there. She'll trap you if you can, and you wouldn't be the first to fall prey to her tricks. There's dangerous creatures in there that even she doesn't control, and they got no problem ripping you limb-from-limb." He waited to make sure that his message had sunk in before fishing a key out of his pocket. "Right then. One step back everyone, if you please." Constantine turned towards the door, placing the key in the keyhole before putting both hands on the door itself. "I am a friend to this house," he said, and some of the carved markings in the door lit up. "Ancor, Anacor, Candones helosi et vos eleutis phugori-- The key turned by itself, and John Constantine stepped back. "I'll keep the door open on my end as long as I can," he promised. "Good luck."
Face	"I'm pretty sure I've seen holos that started like this," Face said. "The guy who suggests going into the place of forbidden knowledge either dies first or dies nastiest." So great job on his part.
Lottie	"If holos are like movies, they are well inaccurate," Lottie said, mostly to reassure herself. ". . . Why is the Special Collections female?"
Eponine	Éponine did not regret lacking a comprehensive knowledge of film tropes right about now. "It's the place that knows all the things, isn't it? It's nice people aren't assuming it's a man." Touch of bitterness there? Maaaaaaaaybe. Okay, yes.
Dipper	"We're going into Special Collections!" Dipper almost shouted as he bounced his feet. "This is so cool!" And then he quickly put a lid on it. Cool teenagers didn't do that kind of thing. "I mean. Yeah. She's totally female, am I right?"
Kathy	"I don't know if female is exactly the right term," Kathy said, reverting to Tumblr out of sheer nervousness. Mr. Constantine did not look like he was at all overstating the danger. "Regardless of what pronouns Special Collections uses." She clamped down on the rest of the speech; she was a superhero, there was no reason to be afraid. Respectful, wary, cautious, yes, but not afraid. "Soonest started, soonest ended. Let's get what we came for and get out."
Sam	"We'll be fine," Sam said, hoping his tone would come off as reassuring. "Special Collections isn't something to mess with, but we're also here for a good purpose, and she'll surely recognize that." Or, they were all going to get eaten, but he was leaning towards his initial assessment.
Hardison	"I dunno," Hardison said absently, paying far more attention to his surroundings than to what he was actually saying. "Fandom ain't always the most logical, play-nice kinda...entity?...I ever dealt with." And only after he finished saying that did he realize that, oops, there were students here and he was probably supposed to be helping everyone remain calm. "But, you know, I'm sure this part is different?" he tried. "I ain't never dealt with Special Collections before, so what do I know?" Good save.
Bob	"It's magic," Bob said. He nodded at Constantine. "Do as the man says, treat it - or her - with respect and due caution." He smirked. "And do try not to die," he added with the chipperness of someone who'd been there and done that.
Kira	"Right, don't die. That's nice and easy to remember," Kira said lightly. Don't mind her inching closer to Kathy for some protection. "It's good that we're all respectful people. This is going to be totally fine." Whether she was saying that for everyone else or herself was the question.
Kathy	Kathy gave Kira a smile that hopefully looked braver than it felt and reached out to take her hand. "Stay close, yeah?" she suggested softly. "Safety in numbers?"
Face	"Oh, definitely. It'll help confuse special collections when it tries to pick us off." The upside of the feeling every one else's feelings was that at least it was even easier to tell Face was joking. You know, as opposed to having to figure it out from the fact his mouth was moving.
Constantine	Constantine rolled his eyes. "Always assume that anything that knows more than you, is smarter than you, and able to kill you is female," he said. "You'll rarely be wrong." John Constantine, boys and girls. Magical asshole feminist. "Now shoo. Get in, and get back," he continued, pulling chalk out of a pocket and sitting down to start sketching out a Solomon's Seal on the floor. "We got a world to save, and you're on a deadline."
	A large plane of snow lies before you - or does it? Pay close attention, and you'll find the snow is made of fine specks of parchment, dyed perfectly white. There may even be a piece of a cover or a bookmark poking out here and there. You can't see far because of the mist, but outside of the chimes and the howl of the wind, there does not appear to be anything to face here. Better press on.
Dipper	"Seriously?" Dipper called out in excitement. "This is amazing!" Yes. It was creepy too but Dipper had a high tolerance for creepy. He had already picked up a handful of "snow" and was inspecting it as they walked along. Hey at least it wasn't wet snow they were trudging through.
Lottie	"I'm pretty sure books usually work better when they're in one piece," Lottie said, shuffling through the parchment to send up sprays of paper bits. "You know, so's you can read it."
Kathy	"There are some books that it's probably best not to read," Kathy mentioned to her little sister in an undertone. "And I bet a lot of them live right in here."
Face	"And we're most likely looking for some." Look, just because he was being a bit paranoid didn't mean something wasn't out to get them.
	The snow trembled briefly under their feet, as if it was a sentient thing in and of itself. In that moment, soft voices called out-- then were silenced anew, as a small wave of parchment shot forward beside them, as if directing them onwards.

	The deep parchment-snow continued for a long time. Eventually, tall monoliths became clear in the fuzzy mists, and the sound of chimes grew stronger. As the group approached, the monoliths came into sharp focus: they were tall, yes, but they were wooden, and they had many shelves, like bookcases unused. "Who..." whispered something in the dark. Pale whisps skimmed past the dark wood, looking awfully familiar...
Kathy	Faces kept appearing out ofthe corner of her eye, then vanishing before she could get a good look at them. "Hello?" she called, trying to remember everything she could about Bob's class, and Sam's, too. "Is someone there?"
	A whisp blew past her, whirling, its voice loud but impossible to grasp, noise that sounded like words but never quite assembled. It fluttered at the sound of Kathy's own voice, becoming brighter; it turned and swept by her for another pass.
Kathy	Kathy spun again, trying to keep the whisp in sight. "Can you help us?" she called. Black hair swirled around the apparition's face, obscuring delicate features, then finally fell away. Kathy gasped and stumbled backwards, vaunted balance abandoning her, replaced by shock. "Sarah?!" she gasped.
Whisp	"Kathy?" The voice echoed Kathy's tone in every aspect, except it appeared hollow. And while Sarah's features were the same, her eyes were big and black, haunted. "You're not here, you're not..."
Kathy	"No no no no," Kathy said, shaking her head frantically, even as she helplessly took another step towards her little sister. "You're not here, this is some kind of trick. Sarah's at home. In LA. Probably doing something silly and normal and fine."
Whisp	"Nothing's fine," the apparition whispered. "Nothing's fine now, Kathy, I'm not fine and dad's not fine and mom's not fine--"
Kathy	"What happened?" Kathy asked before she could help herself. "Wait, no. This is a trick, it has to be. It's all fake, this is just some stupid trick by Special Collections to confuse me and try to scare me off. It's not going to work, whatever you are." Strong words, though they did nothing to allay the way her hands were shaking or the heavy lump of dread in her stomach. Just the idea of something bad happening to Sarah, to their parents... "You're not Sarah, you're lying!"
Whisp	"Nothing's going to be fine again fine again fine again..." Big and black became real, brown eyes filled with terror and a screech-- "Why did you go, Kathy?!"
Kathy	"I'm never going to let anything hurt you!" Kathy cried, reaching out a trembling hand towards the whisp. She knew this was fake, knew that it was just some magic that wore her sister like a costume, but it was impossible to look at those fear-filled eyes and feel nothing. "Not ever! I would die before I'd let anything bad happen to you--to Sarah. She knows that I'm always going to keep her safe!"
	Kathy's fingers came within a breath's distance of the whisp's face. It screamed. Thick drops of something dark ran down Sarah's visage, and she dispersed suddenly, violently, her component parts sinking into the parchment.

Hardison	Hardison's attention had been snagged by the sheer immensity of the bookshelves, but a face in the mist made him doubletake. It was a face he hadn't seen in decades, one that he'd almost forgotten. "...Mom?" he whispered, taking an unsteady step towards the whisp. Then he shook his head. "Naw. She don't even know where I am. If she's even still alive. Go on, with yourself. Ain't no suckers here." He sounded tired. Emotionally drained. But the little boy who would have done anything to get his mother back had grown up a long time ago.
Lottie	One of the whisps swooped by Lottie, coalescing into a familiar face. Lottie turned on it furiously. "No!" she shouted. "You do NOT get to look like my dad! Knock that off right now!" The face turned towards her, its expression bleak as it opened its mouth. "You're just tryin to throw us off the track!" Lottie pointed a stern finger at it. "J'ACCUSE!" The whisp shrieked and blew backward, disappearing back into the woods. "Hmmph." Lottie folded her arms over her chest. "That's what I thought."
Eponine	All right, yes, this was creepy, but Éponine couldn't help being fascinated. "How do you like that!" she exclaimed, not quiet enough to be a whisper, but close. "I almost think I saw something like this out near the Bois de Boulogne one night. It was more than a week since I'd last eaten, I think? Yes." Although . . . it had been almost three years now since she'd been that hungry, and outside of that old starved delirium, visions like this were unsettling. Even more so, when she caught a glimpse of -- "Père Mabeuf?" That old gentleman, then, Marius's friend? But this wasn't the man she remembered seeing in the streets every so often, going out with an expensive looking book cradled in his arms then coming back again, empty-handed and looking heartbroken. This apparition had its eyes raised upward, and its expression was wild, despairing, and final. The way he had looked in the Rue de la Chanvrerie when he mounted the barricade with the red flag. The whisp shifted, as if Mabeuf's lips were moving, and Éponine thought she could make out the words "Vive la République! " She'd never forget the sound of the musket volley that had answered his cry, even if it was eerily silent now. She turned away.
Bob	"Ghosts of memories," Bob murmured. Winifred's face swirled by him, haunted and dark, and he brushed a hand through it. It saddened him, but it wasn't as though he were afraid of ghosts. Maybe sadder that there were so few this place could throw at him.
Lottie	"They go away if you j'accuse them," Lottie suggested.
Bob	Bob shrugged. "I don't mind them. They're only memories."
Dipper	For Dipper there was the face of a large man with buck teeth. Anyone nearby might hear the phrase "Bros before dinos.... Victory nachoooos." And as silly as it may have sounded it was enough to make Dipper stop in his tracks and look anxious. Oh, Soos...
Sam	The parchment snow was kind of mesmerizing, and Sam's mind was drifting a little to what kind of manuscripts the snow came from, so it took him a moment to hear the whispers. The whisp was easily recognizable though, and he became a lot more focused as he saw his mother's face. "You're not real," he said quietly, as much to himself as to the whisp. "She's not real, and she's not to be used. Back off." The image of his mother faded enough for Sam to keep walking, and he shrugged his shoulders to try to shake off the uneasy feeling he'd gotten. Hopefully, he'd be fine by the time they were done.
	Follow the sound of chimes further, and the parchment-snow begins to crack underfoot, becoming larger. The sound leaves whispers of times both past and future - be careful it doesn't draw your mind and heart, or you'll be lost in Special Collections for some time.
Kathy	Yeah, having preternatural agility was definitely coming in handy here. Kathy lost count of the times large cracks had opened up under her feet and only a quick dodge kept her on her feet. "Starting to think this place isn't too keen on having visitors!" she called to the group.
	The parchment crinkled and fluttered. "not enough not enough not good enough," it whispered, though its voice was nothing human.
Kathy	At first, Kathy thought the murmurings were just the wind, blowing through the parchment. She didn't pay the noises any attention, too busy dodging around breaks and gaps in the ground than to listen to the whispers of wind through paper. By the time she registered that someone was saying something, she already felt off-balance and upset. She might not have been listening to the words on the wind, but her subconscious had heard it anyway and the echo of her deepest fear rubbed at her spirit like sandpaper. "You have something to say?!" she snapped at the person closest to her.
Hardison	Hardison flinched. Withdrawn into his own issues, he'd barely even realized he was still traveling next to people. "What?" he asked, blinking rapidly in surprise. "Nah, little mama, I ain't said nothing." Had any of his crew been here with him, they would have realized that in itself was a warning sign, but none of them were. Hardison was alone, regardless of how many people were nearby. Story of his life.
Lottie	Lottie wondered about the efficacy of j'accusing the parchment-snow. It'd worked on the whispy thing trying to steal her father's identity. She skipped over one of the cracks, then got distracted by the faint sound of giggling. It sounded just like Sarah and her friends when they were teenagers. When they were working on their 'zines and making fun of Lottie because she was just a little kid and they wouldn't let her play with her and they told her the cops coming to say their dad died were there to arrest her for being too loud and annoying -- Lottie grit her teeth and kept going, reminding herself that Sarah had totally grown out of her awful phase and was now a fun older sister who had boyfriends who tried to be superheros. She wasn't laughing at her. She wasn't.
Bob	"Whatever you see or hear, don't let it distract you," Bob said, not unkindly. "It's all memories and smoke and mirrors." It was easy for him to say, yes. He didn't actually have to walk on the stuff.
Lottie	"I know that, but they're loud," Lottie complained. Now there was the sound of lispy sobbing, and Shauna talking about becoming friends with Blossom, of all people -- "Knowin doesn't help them being WELL DISTRACTIN."
Bob	"Make your own distractions, then," Bob suggested. "What's Yorkshire like these days? I haven't been back in ages."
Lottie	Was that someone screaming about aliens? In a Welsh accent? "Oh, you know, the usual. I heard there was a devil bear infestation in the woods outside of town."
Bob	There was no accounting for the Welsh, really. "Still never heard of them. What is a devil bear?"
Lottie	"A bear," Lottie said. "Only well devilish. They don't usually go near towns at all." Okay, now that was Mildred crying. About -- Boyce? Lottie paused, automatically turning to look. Nobody made her Mildew cry!
Bob	"Something wrong?" Bob asked.
Lottie	Lottie scowled, reminding herself that Mildred and Shauna and Little Claire and everyone were perfectly fine back in Tackleford and not in a weird snowy book field in a library. "No," she said. "This place is just WELL good at manipulatin."
Bob	"Books often are," Bob said. "For better and for worse." There was the sound of arguing in the distance, voices he hadn't heard in over a thousand years, and Bob winced and tuned them out.

	A small girl sat curled up against a bookcase at the very end. She held Christmas bells, shaking them occasionally. Her face was empty.
Lottie	Right. Lottie had plenty of experience with sad, spooky ghosts. At least this one probably wasn't a depressed rock star. She went to stand right in front of the ghost, not even flinching at that empty face. "We come in peace," she said, making the hand gesture from Galaxy Quest. Poorly. "We need Christmassy information, and you look like a well Christmassy ghost." At least in that she was holding bells, anyway.
	The wind stopped howling abruptly. The mists parted around the girl - and around Lottie, warding them off from the rest of the madness. The girl shook her bells. They chimed. "What do you seek?"
Lottie	"There are Christmas ghosts drivin people well nutters," Lottie said, glancing back over her shoulder at the mists that were now blocking off the world around them. "We know that Fandomites have gotten rid of 'em before. We just wanna know how."
	The girl rang her bells again - chime, chime chime. "I might remember," she said. "Marley. Marley was dead. Young Marley was dead as a doornail." She dug her fingers into the parchment-snow, rustling around, her face a milky-white mask of thoughtful, thinking.
Lottie	"Did he die of excess empathy? Cuz we can sympathize!"
	Chime. "No sympathy," the girl whispered, "Something good, something good has to come of it..." Her fingers wrapped 'round a single scrap, a solid one, bigger than all the others, covered in a child's chicken scratch.
Lottie	"Something good?" Lottie asked, getting frustrated with the cryptic ghost speak. "I mentioned people are going actually crazy, right?" She edged closer, watching the girl's fingers. "Whassat you got there?"
	"Something good has to come of it," the girl repeated. She held up the slip of paper. There wasn't just writing on it. Images of candles and trees and cakes dotted the paper. In the middle, there were words, some harder to make out than others. The child had not had great penmanship. mum and da said twas important for me n my mates to remember good things cos they've had scares, and we're made of good things. We danced and we sang and we ate and it was wonderful, and the big ones cried 'cos their bad thoughts and bad ghosts went away, though the dead didnae come back.
Lottie	"Were a little simple, weren't ya," Lottie said. Shauna would give her a look for being rude. "Danced and sang and ate -- a party? We have to fight the ghosts with a party?" Well. She'd heard weirder.
	"Joy to combat pain," the girl said. "It is not so strange." She began to fade, pieces coming off of her as if she was made of parchment herself. "Good luck," she said, and rang the bells, and dispersed to the wind. The fog fell with her.
Lottie	"Thank you!" Lottie shouted after her, then turned back to find the group again. "Who wants to help throw a giant anti-gloom party?"

Hardison	Hardison had gotten really good at running over the years. Outracing explosions, chasing down (other) criminals, running away from people trying to put a serious hurt on him--his time with Leverage had really gotten him used to fleeing in terror. But that didn't mean he liked it. And as soon as they were safe and sound in the library proper and he got his breath back, he would be very eloquent on the subject of just how much he hated it.
Bob	When all was said and done, Bob was just going to wisp his way back out. If they didn't need to search any further, there was very little point in him walking.
Face	Face wasn't stupid enough to think what fighting skill he had would be any use here, so he would be running now. Quite fast.
Eponine	Running, yes, Éponine could do that, and it was easier to do that now, when she didn't have to coax one step at a time out of shaking legs and every breath didn't feel like fire searing her lungs. And it was funny, but she thought to herself that she'd much rather this than dodging the police. Her instinct would be to keep her head down and make for the exit, but . . . she kept catching herself taking a glance to one side or the other to make sure everyone else in the group was still there.
Kathy	Yeah, Kathy wanted to do nothing more than make a mad dash for the doorway. But doing that would mean leaving everyone else behind and she'd never be able to forgive herself for doing that. Instead she hung back, keeping an eye out for anyone starting to fall behind or about to fall.
Kira	"We should really really go!" Kira said, running up and making shooing motions with her hands at Kathy like that would make her move faster.
Kathy	"Don't wait for me!" Kathy told her. "I'm just going to make sure that everyone is out and then, believe me, I'm going to run like my ass in on fire!"
Kira	Kira sighed, but she knew Kathy could be fast, so... "Okay, but if you don't come out, I'm coming back in for you and kicking your butt."
Kathy	Kathy flashed her a V-sign. "I'll be right behind you," she promised. "I just wanna make sure everyone else gets out two."
Lottie	Lottie bolted, trying not to flail too much, or fall too far behind the others. Who knew she'd actually miss having to have Games in school?
Sam	Sam stayed near the back of the group to make sure everyone else had made it out, but he had no problem sprinting once it seemed good to go. Having long legs was really nice sometimes.
Constantine	"Moving faster!" Constantine bellowed once all the Fandomites came into view. Parchment-snow was flinging itself against some invisible barrier, and the magus was looking a tiny bit harried. "I don't know what you did or what you found, but Special Collections has decided your tour is over." Once the last Fandomite was through the door, John heaved it shut with a resounding crash which echoed through the library. "So," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking them over. "I'm assuming you found something, and no one's dead or possessed. Bravo." "Now it's time for the hard part; actually saving ourselves from our own damn ghosts."

[[ all happenings within special collections itself NFB! MUCH THANKS to the entire research team crew. <3 NFI, OOC-okay. ]]