where; Vievecor city library, Dymock whomst; open @vievecorcitystarters
Domiel loved his jobs, truly he did. Between planning new exhibitions and grading papers he never had to worry about an inactive mind. The more he thought, the happier he felt. By nature he had never been one for an idle mind. The 21st century was truly a marvelous time to be alive. All this information, all this knowledge, just sitting around waiting for someone to find it. And anyone could! Anyone at all! Domiel wanted to go back in time and personally thank every single person responsible for the internet.Ā
He sat in the middle of a small circle of books, titles stacked around him like he was some damsel in a tower. Did he have any books about damsels in towers? No, focus, that wasnāt knowledge he needed at the moment. He had come here forā¦ Domās mind wandered as it often did in places like this, an eternityās worth of focus scattered in hundreds of equally interesting directions. He had come here forā¦ the museum? No, that had been his last visit. His classes? His thoughts skittered through the list of classes he taught, students heād mentored, what was the year again the university did quarters didnāt it yes he had recommended they do so all those years ago which meant classes would start up again soon which meant he already knew what courses he would teach so that information wasā someone far to Domās right and perhaps a floor up had just found exactly the right source and ā thatās right, he had come here for some new materials for his summer course on the Stone Age.Ā
Dom beamed at a passing student who had taken one of his classes before and received a bemused smile in return. Oh, libraries were such beautiful things. What a lovely, lovely invention.Ā
He sorted his small tower into two piles: relevant and off-topic. āDonāt worry,ā he told the shadow hovering over him and his horde, āI promise to put them all back where I found them.ā
The only real problem (specifically if you ask Trystan while he's stone cold sober) with being alive so long is that things change. New businesses, new infrastructure, new plagues, new recessions. Not that it bothered him on a fundamental level, but sometimes you'd like to go to that place with the really good bread fifty years down the road but bam, it's closed. These are the great travesties of a selfish demon's life.
So to the library we go. Trystan figured it would be a decent place to actually observe what weird shit he missed in how the city has changed and maybe catch up on local news from the last few decades when he couldn't be bothered to do so. Not important stuff like culture, he had the internet for that. The history of the place for the people who made their lives here. Now where the hell would the local history room be?
Instead of that, he found a man sitting with a tower of books and the express promise to return them where they belonged. First Trystan glanced around. Surely he wasn't talking to him. He absolutely didn't look like a librarian.
Except maybe.
Okay, but a cool librarian, very hip. Fuck, not like anyone says hip these days. Still. This other guy seemed much more likely to be able to give him directions.
"As far as I'm concerned, you can make three piles. Would have thought you worked here." Trystan shrugged. "You wouldn't happen to know where the local history or old papers would be?"
