Read The In-Between Tales | Tapas Web Community

The world outside of her room was still on the darker, more gloomy side as she arose from sleep that morning. It definitely had the feel of winter, even if The Library itself didn’t really have strict seasons. Given that it was in its own little pocket of dimensional stability, there wasn’t really much need for that much fluctuation outside of the regular cycles of night and day.

But, in its own way, the sort of seasonal shift itself was a charming one. Definitely brought to mind warm fires and staying inside, maybe even also listening to the rain that was pattering softly on the windowpane. Her breath gently steamed on the glass, forming soft clouds of condensation that shrank and grew as she stared out into the courtyard below her window. Well, the far corner of it, she was situated more in the back, kept the hustle and bustle mostly away.

Though there was that familiar itch settling in somewhere. It was hard to say exactly where. Head, shoulders, sometimes even the hands, which was really annoying. A sign of her nature, something that her shadowed, somewhat ink-clouded eyes furrowed at as she glanced at the scrawlings of text racing over her own skinny, pale limbs. Like a living tattoo, a story was beating there, thrumming with something almost warm and, vital?

Yes, perhaps vital was the word. It was a thought that briefly snapped her out of her quiet moment of staring out the window, watching as raindrops slipped down the glass.

Though it was a dreary day, there was still work to be done, though perhaps she would not have called it work. Really, the act of recording/seeing/feeling the words that ran through her and over her skin was something like breathing, it would happen whether or not she had the proper environment to do it in. She still remembered how scandalized the Scribe had looked, even through a mask and hood, when she had reported that oftentimes she’d simply sit and wait her fits out.

“Child, those are the words of multitudes, and they are meant to be told to listening ears, not empty air.”

That had been the start of her tutelage, and current living situation. The Library was a fantastical place, a feast for the eyes as much as it was for the mind. All things mortal and immortal used it, bringing with them their own perspectives as well as written materials that they could use as bartering for their time to stay reading from the various stacks. Sometimes they brought things like statues, pieces of archaeological record that could be easily carried and placed in the museum section of The Library. Sometimes she poked around in there, perusing the various donations.

Someone had even somehow brought in an entire Akkadian, or maybe Assyrian, lion-man with wings. She wondered precisely how that had been accomplished, The Library only had so many larger guests that regularly came through. And, well, given the fact that even with the larger chambers the materials were only so durable, the bigger tenants tended to be very…sparse.

Not that there wasn’t enough space for them, she thought as she left her room and headed along the walkways that ringed the uppermost levels of the library. The areas she and the other denizens of the Library inhabited were more suited towards things that were at least mostly human-sized, but as she went down the stairs to the lower levels the ceilings grew higher, vaulted like that of an older cathedral, easily able to fit even the largest gods and cosmic incarnations.

Nowhere was this more obvious than the main hall leading into the actual collection, her path taking her through it as she headed down to the far end. Lining the hall were different altars to different gods and goddesses, usually ones that either worked at or made regular contributions to the library. It often worked as a sort of delivery system, but also a way to support the various entities that kept the place running. Dionysus’s altar, for one, had a few gifts of different ales, particularly wines but she knew he was interested in trying everything at least once. Cybelle’s altar was bare, though more likely she’d just been through to clear it of offerings.

One of the altars though was overflowing with gifts and offerings, bespeaking of only the occasional trip to actually clear some of them away. Unlike the others, which mixed books and personal treats/items, this one was pretty much entirely books. She moved a little slower past this one, giving the icon of the ibis-headed man a polite nod. One should be respectful of the dead, after all, and Thoth had done more than his fair share to build up even the relatively small centers of civilization they all enjoyed.

Her altar was small, which was fine, she didn’t really want anything bigger. It was just big enough for a stack of books to be placed on, nearly covering the icon of a pen resting on a surface, surveyed by one set of eyes as another singular one peered out into the unknown.

Briefly she flipped through the stack of about five books, mentally cataloging the titles. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, 1001 Arabian Nights, Stories of Irish Folklore…

Her concentration was briefly broken by a piece of paper carefully folded up and placed between some of the books, her hands doing their best to juggle them without dropping anything as she fought to get the paper separated from the rest. It took a moment, but when she read the somewhat messily scrawled handwriting on the page, she couldn’t help breaking out in a wide, earnest smile.

Hey,

Hope you like the books! Know I’m here at some odd hours, so I’ll walk around for a bit and catch up with you when night comes. Been feeling an old familiar itch lately, sure you’ve been noticing it too. Tell Joto I said hi.

See you soon,

Trick

Next to the signature was a familiar design, a gold ring around a black circle, the other goddess’s insignia. All the more of a sign that the letter was the genuine article. Not that she’d had a case of someone trying to impersonate Trick, but, y’know. One could never be too careful.

There was also the mention of “an old familiar itch”, one that she couldn’t help noticing. Sure, her “itches” tended to relate more to that sense of things, words, stories, bubbling under her skin, but for Trick, when Trick shared them, it tended to mean something else. Something a little more important.

Briefly her ink-cloyed eyes turned to what she could see of the swirling tattoos on her arm, glancing over it like there would be some answer there. But, no, it didn’t look that much different from how it normally did when a story was trying to be “heard”.

Then again, she’d thought the same until…

Without really thinking about it, her gaze had turned back to the upper part of the hallway, where she’d come from. That way also led out to the main area of the Library, where one of the denizens likely would be right now. A particular denizen, that had come to be fairly recently.

Well, recently for an esoteric type. About maybe five years ago now, was it? Probably a little more than that. Perhaps ten…

Moving on autopilot, she gathered up the books and materials, spinning on her heel and heading back down the hall. That brought her into the Library proper, her head mostly staying down, but she did manage to catch sight of a few folks milling around the main shelves. Most of the books here were a mix of contemporary and classics, things you would expect to find in a library. There were a few hallways leading off, heading to the more specialized wings, at least one with a stairwell and an elevator going to the next floor.

Though she did have to snap out of her more autopilot-dash to avoid getting stepped on, a large clawed foot crashing to the ground barely a few feet away as the insectile, reptilian frame it was attached to went nearly over her head. Briefly she couldn’t help staring, that was definitely a new arrival. Kind of looked like some sort of alien god, all things considered, and oddly enough he didn’t seem to be alone. There was a small, metallic figure walking…well, it could charitably be considered next to the towering creature. Almost looked like a more futuristic, cybernetic version of a knight, though she quickly moved on at the sound of a familiar, clanking set of footsteps coming up the main aisle towards her.

Perhaps most would’ve been a little leery of a purple, mechanical being with a CRT television screen for a head, though for her it made a smile ease over her face. The being in question was also carrying a stack of books, probably things that were being moved from one section to another, or getting repaired, what have you. Either way, it made the purple figure’s rush forward turn into a bit of a stumble, their arms fumbling as they tried to correct and keep from dropping any of their books.

Thankfully they managed it, at least mostly. One book did fall, though she quickly lunged forward and caught it with her teeth. A sort of chiming hinted that the figure thought the whole display was funny too, a laughing emoticon flashing across their screen. She breathed out an ink-logged laugh that mixed exasperation with humor, and tried to ease her own cargo to sit on the shelf. The figure did the same, the pair immediately flying into a flurry of conversation.

Well, conversation of hand signs. Talking tended to be dicey for the both of them, so this worked better.

Hello! The figure signed first, and though punctuation was not really something conveyed through signs, she had the feeling the greeting came with an exclamation mark.

Hi to you too, did you see Trick around? Story’s signs held a wiry sort of mannerism, though she was still smiling even with that. Joto, meanwhile, jolted up at the name, hurriedly signing back.

Trick is here?!

Yes, she left a letter. Story ‘replied’, proffering said letter for Joto to read. A brief loading animation played over the screen, a circle revolving in and out of existence that blipped out just as quickly, Joto’s fingers hesitantly moving through another question.

Old itch…?

Kind of like what we felt before you came to be, I imagine. The gem of an explanation had Joto’s metallic purple frame stiffening, a series of exclamation points flashing over her screen.

Am I gonna have a brother or sister? Baby s-i-b? Baby s-i-b? The last word was spelled rather than really signed, but Story felt like she got the gist of what Joto was trying to say. It did help that it was spelled out twice, even with the metallic being practically jumping up and down in excitement, a nearly silent laugh framing Story’s answer.

Maybe! I don’t know yet. I’ll see Trick when I’m done and we’ll figure it out.

Please tell me. Joto hurriedly signed, a more wide-eyed emoticon flashing up to complete the begging look. And, well, Story could understand it, the whole thing was moving rather fast. So, reaching up, she gently took hold of Joto’s monitor-head, making sure the touch had the intended effect of soothing her first creation before she pulled away to start signing.

Joto, honey, you know I will. You’ll be the first person, likely enough. Actually, you should probably come up to my office in a few hours. Trick will want to see you too. She even said to tell you hi.

Yes yes yes! Will put these away first, but yes! And before she could say anything, Joto had grabbed her stack of books and practically dashed off so quickly that there was some brief worry that she might collide with something on her way. Though, she made it to the end of the room with no incidents, so…

Inky eyes blinked, a huff of a laugh escaping before she signed one word to herself and went to grab her books. The one word was kids.

Thankfully there were no other surprises on the way to the stairs, her legs able to easily carry her up and to one of the higher levels.

Her, well, “office” was pretty much the same as she left it. A desk, an easel with paper, a few stacks of books she hadn’t cataloged yet. Mostly because she wanted to read them herself before putting them out, but, well, might need to just do it and keep them in mind to find later. They were starting to choke out the actual walking space in the room, her feet skipping narrowly around a stack and coming around to sit at her desk. The recent additions she set down next to the easel, glancing over the titles as she absently scratched at her arm.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, 1001 Arabian Nights, Stories of Irish Folklore, Leaves of Grass, The Reaper Man…

She’d been absently looking at them for a few moments, passively registering a faint uptick in the squirming feeling over her skin, when a faint glow from her ‘tattoos’ made her hurriedly look down.

Oh, well, didn’t seem like this batch was going to wait for her to get settled. Fingers feeling twitchy with the build-up of energy, her hands fought to grab a few more packets of paper and pin them into place on the board. By that point whorls of color were appearing in the corners of her vision, ink turning from black to pulsing rainbows, her conscious mind having just enough wherewithal to plant herself properly in the seat, no need to end up on the floor again…

Alright, what’ve you got for me?

And Story, the Living Library, Goddess of the written tales and words, placed her hands down on the paper, taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth as she let her mind go

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