Log:Library

Library
Participants Kara, Sam, Tock	5 April, 2017 '
Location Town Library
It's mid-afternoon on a Spring afternoon in Vermont. That means it's quiet: children and school groups tend to visit in the morning, along with the occasional stay-at-home wife. When lunch hits, the place empties. And then, after, the only people that come back are those that haven't visited before, or had the opportunity to: those that wake up /after/ the sun is at its zenith. Layabouts and ne'er-do-wells, all of them. There are nooks. There are crannies. Libraries are like English muffins: sort of bland, unless it happens to be your thing, in which case you're probably boring, British, bookish, or all three. It's easy to hide in this library too. Because there are many places to lurk, and few people to lurk in them. Sam is a denizen fot this afternoon. She sits by herself in a hard chair pushed into a corner. No one pays attention to her, and, really, that's to be expected. The misty, spectral Autumn is probably to be avoided, from her appearance -- then again, it's generally wise advice to avoid Autumns. Creepy motherfuckers. In her lap is a large tome of whatever. Probably stories or plays. But it's a large book -- note that. Large. Libraries -are- Tock's thing, and Tock is indeed boring and bookish. (Two out of Three ain't bad!) A lifelong resident of the town, he's now semi-retired and volunteers as the town librarian. He "hmmmmmhmmmHmmmmmhmmmHmmmm" 's to himself very very quietly as he goes about the business of shelving, dusting, arranging, sorting, stamping, and filing, showing a predilection for lingering in the sunnier stretches of the counter as he works, his wire-rimmed spectacles glinting in the afternoon light and his brown tweed houndstooth jacket softly illuminated thereby. Kara isn't bookish, she isn't boring and she isn't British, but seemingly by the work of the Fates here she is, walking past the door in all her misshapen strangeness, not long after a young man did the same. Her eyes, fierce and blue, scan her surroundings only enough so she knows there is no immediate threat before her body is skittering closer to the human she is apparently tagging along with. The human she is hunting. She watches from afar, behind some shelves, drinking in every smarmy smirk the mortal gives to the books he picks in the self-help section. The one he picks seems to be about coping with grief and loss of a family, but he puts it back on the shelf. There is acceptance there, almost derision, and Kara seems to like what she sees. That is when she spots the two other Changeling. The Beast tries to ignore them at first, giving wary looks, as she keeps her sights on the mortal. She it is hard to let go, of any of the two inputs she is receiving, and it is blatant in how her head keeps zipping between Tock and Sam, and the mortal who is now talking with another self-help book. He is the sarcastic sort. Eventually, curiosity bites the Dusk courtier in the ass, and with a frustrated growl she leaves the premises of her prey for the day, and goes where she can look at the other two, but mainly at Tock, at first. "Do I need a password, or are we doing this? If we are having coffee, someone is paying, because I have NO money on me right now. I am between jobs." She arches her brows at both of them, tilting her head to the side. It is not everyday that SHE bumps into new Lost. Might as well poke them! There is a calm about Sam, like the still fog over a Scottish moor. Around her is the smell of dead leaves: the deepest of forests, dark and mysterious. When she lifts her chin and eyes, that her face may be directed at Kara, it is with a deliberate, slow pace. And when she gets up, it is languidly and luxuriously, a cloudy, patient specter that seems to have no need to press. Sam leaves her book behind. She comes up closer to Kara and Tock, and says, along the way: "Nature teaches beasts to know their friends." And that's all she says, for a moment. "If you need money, I have money. If you have need, I have. If. If." Sam lets out a ghostly sigh. "Who are you?" she asks of Kara. Tock blinkblinkblinkblinkblinks behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, as he takes in Kara's bellicose opening salvo. Not sure if she's here to read and borrow books, to argue, or to get free food and coffee from fellow Lost across the street at Hazel's, he politely addresses the two less-confrontational possibilities straight away: A card's but a cinch, and quite easy to do, Just stop by the desk and we'll write one for you! Books loan for a week and day for each one, Just bring them on back to us when you're all done! I'd say we could fairly pay Hazel a call, She'll cook up a feast for you! . . . and that's not all . . . Her restaurant's famous for more than good food, She cares well for one and for all of her brood. Her door's open wide for three squares all day long, But orders of breakfast will never go wrong! Just tell her your fav-o-rite snack to prepare, and trust in her judgment -- she's well-more than fair!