Open Betwixt the Stacks

It took Arbok MONTHS to work the courage up to step back between those shelves and she did it nice and early and nobody saw her. Since Alouette caught her she was too ashamed to even speak to her again since.

Thankfully she was able to take a proper look now.

Not that she'd take that long, just enough time to get the bearings of it and it wasn't like she had NO reason to be there. She wanted to know if there was anything she should be aware of, as a shape changer. Sure she was mostly human or so they figured but you never knew. What if she gave someone bear cooties or something. That's not very sexy.

Then there was Jhima to consider, she'd never felt that before and this was the only place she hadn't looked. Books on shape changers seemed to be as rare as the subject matter were.

Of course there were MENTIONS but it mostly covered things like how to kill them and stuff that was toxic to them. Nothing ABOUT them, concerning them and what they did talk about she knew already. Full Moons, Eclipses, wolfsbane, silver, iron filings, garlic, horseshoes over the door... it was old hat to her by now and long since scoured from the books in the library from early on in her days at the Monastery.

So in she went and poked about, trying to find anything mentioning shape shifting or the like.
It did not take her long to realise two things simultaneously as she flipped open a book titled *The Shape and the Soul, a guide to wild embraces!*.

The first was that the only thing that seemed to be covered was um, technique, specifically how NOT to hurt your partner who is definitely NOT a shape changer, with VERY detailed illustrations.

The second was that she was not alone in these hallowed stacks and that when she looked through the gap created by the book she just opened she saw the distinctive single ear and deeply brown eyes of Hector looking back at her.

Oh gods anyone but him!

"Uuuuuuuuuh, hi Hector, Ser, Ser Hector!"

Her mind would have been racing in panic but it seemed to have dropped all of its thoughts into her boots.

"Youuuuu reading?"

Smoke coiled out of pipe, embers crinkling on an inhale in the quiet of the shelves and raunchy literature. He’d not asked whether it was fine to light up in such delicate company, so he’d done it on the sly once he’d made sure the librarian was out of view. It didn’t do for a guest to be so obtusely rude, after all— no Sir. Or was it Syr, here?

Wonder what that was about. Knightfuckers and their titles. Anyway—

Looking was free, bless this damn Order, and none had bothered him much in the grounds wherever he sauntered, which was something. He had to suppose it was the confidence and the fact he could look mighty important if he wanted to — enough of both and a man, even a small and searing red one like him, could walk in just about anywhere. Or so he liked to think.

He flipped the page on the sequential, pausing. Pipe stem clicking as he adjusted it in his mouth, head tilting in a chime of dangling earrings and trinkets about his neck. To the left while the hand holding the fold open tilted the page the opposite way. Scoffed.

“ Pff— Unrealistic— “

He was about to take another, all too amused drag from his lunch when a sound like a pigeon cooing caught him out of the next page flip. Quick followed by a call of a name. Hector! Fangs bared in a groan as he closed the pamphlet of all too exaggerated woodcut passions in a snap. Red heels of shined deerskin boots clicked in tandem to the decorations about his woven belt as he begun at once towards the voice, exhaling smoke through his nostrils like any which firehearted fiend of old.

“ Hey. “ Called out, with molten authority, upon rounding the shelves.

Came to view, spotting— Well. Someone very big and someone rather small. In comparison, anyway. Still plenty taller than himself, but that was in physics only. His mouth that’d fallen open snapped shut, brows hiking up.

“ Mind taking your loud courting somewhere else? Some of us— “ The pages shook as leaves in a hurricane. “ Are trying to jerk off to quality— “ Glanced at the cover, too riled up to actually read it, gave up and rose both arms in outrage.

“ Fiction. And you— “ He pointed with the stem of the pipe.

“ Are blathering all over my mood. “

Breathing hard, he stopped to put the pipe back in his mouth and drew from it, chamber quivering, eyes wide with a rage the extent and actual expression of which begun dawning on him the moment he stopped talking. And at about the speed of a carriage shot from a cannon. Ballistic velocity, rattling him back to his senses.

Fuck, am yelling at some random kids. Again. An actors aspect descended upon him, a perfect whiplash to the rescue, and he slapped both palms on the chest of his dazzling, embroidered vest.

“ This is not who I am! “

Farren had been perusing this section of the Monastery's library, reading the dustjacket blurbs of Pegging Brats 101 for... reasons, when she had been startled from her reverie by shouting. The library of all places? She would put a stop to it before Parshen worked himself into a cold tizzy and punished them by closing general access for a few days until he felt the lesson on manners in the sexual health library had been learned.

The irony was not lost on her.

But what she found when she stood at the entrance to the small alcove in the back was enough to startle most of her reprimand from her lips. Hector just seemed to stare at her from behind Arbok. She could have been projecting, but were his eyes begging for rescue?

Her eyes flicked between an adornment of sparkles, red leather, and all-together what should have been too much color. And yet? It packed quite a punch in such a little package. She really rather liked their shoes, to be honest. "Am I... uh.... interrupting something her—" An indignant double-take when she caught sight of the pipe. "Are you fucking smoking in here?!"

@Ten Paces @Hector @Arbok

Eyes followed the lines of the illustrated motions. Back and forth, back and forth. Mouth slightly agape as he flipped the page of Illustrations of the Intimate and Irrepressible Desires by Master Penwillow.

"What forms," he found himself saying, words so heavy on the tongue they pushed out his breath.

Uuuuuuuuh, hi Hector, Ser, Ser Hector!

Eyes up wide. Book snapped shut.

Youuuu reading?

"What?" spine bolt straight, he looked to find Arbok looming over him. He looked down at his own book in hand. Cleared his throat. "Studying," he said with a nod.

Well this was awkward.

His eyes flit about. Rocked on his heels, and looked back up at her. "One of Master Penwillow's collections of illustrations," he gave with a nod and a hint of a smile. No need to be awkward. This was a place of learning. "What about yo-"

What in the f-

Mind taking your loud courting somewhere else?

"Courting?!" Hector shook his head in the negative. "No, no, that's not what,"

Some of us-- are trying to jerk off to quality-- fiction. And you-- Are blathering all over my mood.

"Jerking off?!" He looked about. Didn't look to Arbok, because how in the Eight could he expect her to know to deal with this? Glanced down the way and saw Syr Lothlindor. Almost called out in eager greeting.

This is not who I am!

Are you fucking smoking in here?!

"Vayd Tree's nuts," Hector groaned. Book tucked under his arm. He looked half ready to slink away. Remembered. "Oh and um, Master... dwarf?" he looked down at his colorful pants. Was glad they were at least pulled up. "You can't jerk off here," he cleared his throat and stood a bit straighter. "You can take the materials back to your, well, abode," nod. Good. Now he knew. Now HE could get the fuck out of here.

Slight turn to start going.

Frozen fear and shame welled in Arbok, filling every inch of her mighty frame which to her in this moment never felt smaller against the ever increasing numbers of people appearing in the stacks.

She eeped out a mousey note that squirmed from the very core of her body and out through the big red apple coloured cheeks of her flushed face. The very word "courting" was so loaded with meaning it overwhelmed her.

"I..."
What was happening? Where were people coming from? She wished Gruki was here, Gruki would say something to make everyone laugh and it would be okay.

"I wasn't..."
Ser Farren, she was here, she would understand.
The book held up, Arbok pointed to it like a child, as if it was self explanatory and blurted out the only words she could manage.
"Shapeshifters... I was looking into..."

A half gesture indicated the other stacks in the library or perhaps the whole library itself.
"There's not much so I... I was looking here... I don't... come here... to..."
Her face blushed upon a blush and she felt like her cheeks might begin to blister as heavy beads of sweat formed on her back and instantly made her a disgusting salty waterfall of a person.

Addressing everyone she cast her eyes down contrite.
"I'm sorry."