stranger:
he’s become a frequent visitor to the libraries around the various wards, since it’s one of the pastimes he can understand. plus, there’s plenty of resources there and, with the help of the many free offerings these public libraries have, he finds himself starting to understand the world he’s in more. in his short time here, most days have already been spent in the library, picking up a book and reading it either on the comfortable couches or the wooden chairs.
today, he sits in the library, holding a book about the mythology of the spirale. he reads with interest, as he’s heard from other inhabitants that there are gods are a real force on the island. the book he holds is old and worn, its leather cover rubbed thin by the many hands it’s passed through, and its pages had a faint yellow due to its age and use. the more he reads, the more he thinks it’s merely children stories written by a imaginative author, but he continues reading because… well, he has nothing better to do.
he flips the page–but pauses when he hears light footsteps behind him. he looks back calmly, a composed, but inquisitive, expression on his face. there is someone walking towards him and not just to pass him by.
naturally, a smile slips onto his face and he stands to not be rude and force the stranger to be forced to look down when he speaks. the man is pale, dressed in black and gold, standing a few inches taller than the taichi dressed in elaborate blue robes.
when the man speaks, some amusement appears on his face. the formality, the politeness is reminiscent of mikazuki’s own behavior. there’s a note of apology in the man’s tone, but mikazuki doesn’t mind the interruption. he has much time ahead of him, and little to do. what’s the harm of sparing a few minutes, especially when you’ve lived through centuries?
“ah…” mikazuki’s finger rests gently on his chin, tapping softly and periodically as he thinks back to his small repertoire of spirale’s books. “i apologize, but i have only arrived myself… oh dear,… a little under two weeks ago.” he laughs, “i’m afraid that means my knowledge of the books here is rather limited… quite unfortunate that you decided to ask me, of all the patrons of this library, no?”
(he acknowledges his own ignorance.)
“but what do you consider good, my caped friend?” he asks, “what are you trying to do in the library? to learn? to entertain? perhaps both?”
“my, my, i guess a book that can serve two purposes would be the best, hmm?” his eyes glances at the book of myths sitting on the table and he reaches for it, picking it off the table. he offers the book to the man, a wide smile as he says, “do you fancy a book of myths?”
he laughs, “i would tell you to take it with a grain of salt, but you…”–he pauses, trying to find some words that can’t be misconstrued–“you seem more well read than i, my friend.” after all, he spent a millennium as a sword, and a sword cannot read.
it isn’t lost upon will as to why pleasantries have earned their namesake; an interaction such as this would be a definition of one down to a t. the atmosphere lacks any immediate pressure, &&. he can feel any subconscious stiffening in his shoulders ease as he listens to the other speak. it wasn’t uncommon to find those who expressed a similar outward demeanor, but the occurrence of running into one was always mildly entertaining, to say the least. they were easier to navigate, simple, as he preferred things, &&. proved to be nothing too particularly taxing or frustrating. though he might not get the information he wished, it might shed some light on where he should go.
a soft laugh slips past his lips --- it’s quiet, but not meant to offend, per se. only finding humor in the situation at hand.
❝ a shame to some, perhaps, but you might be selling yourself a tad short. knowledge is still knowledge, isn’t it? it’s better to have some idea than not at all. besides, i’m thankful for the help regardless. ❞
the response practically feels automated; something that he’s spoken a thousand times over, his mind feeling more piloted than it is actually within his control. it was better to play the part of the kind, considerate man than it was the brute to get where he wanted. but it’s not as if his words were all fabrication: there was truth to be found in them. as far as he had been concerned, knowledge was the ultimate power one could have within their grasp. bits &&. pieces were to be treasured, as if they were important parts to some grand puzzle, &&. will would take everything that he could get.
it’s why the answer of to learn comes to his mind immediately at the prompted question. it’s a wonder as to why, with this insatiable hunger for wisdom, that he treats myths &&. folklore with disdain. though he represses it beneath the mask he wears, things that read like tales &&. stories have no use to him. as far as his findings had gone, they held very little actual truth --- more often than not, he had chalked them up to being matters that could be explained through means he deemed more ‘rational.’ an unpleasant memory surfaces at the thought of one in particular --- but he casts it aside instead to focus on the conversation at hand. getting too lost in his emotions would be counterproductive, &&. a mistake entirely.
the book is taken without any complaint --- a ‘thank you’ breezes out of him as his fingers caress the leather, turning it over in his hands. he allows his gaze to fall to it momentarily, prying it open &&. glossing over the aged text. mythology of spirale, was it? a brow raises inquisitively before he resumes eye contact, &&. a questioning blink passing for a mere second. again, he chuckles, his thumb pressing idly to the weathered spine beneath it.
❝ is that so? even the well-read have their misgivings. ❞ his opposing thumb runs over the mountain of pages, feeling the texture of the paper. ❝ would you say these myths are far-fetched? previous research has led me to believe that some tales are--- ❞ he hesitates, searches for the proper words that fit with the facade: ❝ ---more imaginative than they are factual, depending on the author. ❞
