#thread: 634•772

[the-adventures-of-lydia-brown]

𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖆 𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖆

@rapports-de-combat

634.772: { 1 ; 2 }

__________🙛☙🕮❧🙙__________

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖞 is one of those places that do not really have a precise location if they can avoid it, much like the fallen Atlantis or the end of the rainbow. So one can either enter from another library or come up to the front door through an uncertain land that seems to be hazy and incomplete, and they will take the latter route, both because the room that the aides inhabit doesn't have that many books and is a little too close to the edge of the void for comfort and because it is easier to find one's way back if one has gone that way before. And no matter how much the surrounding landscape with shifting, cloud-like outlines hates to be specific about itself, it is not unmappable and can be traversed, even repeatedly, like the streets of a foreign town before they carve an image into your mind and stop being foreign. So the way there is going to take them through any place that doesn't immediately betray what its surroundings are, through some path that is not often used due to being impractical and through a location that could plausibly be a part of the area, like a field of graying dandelions, into lands that seem partly to be built of clouds that spring when they hold your weight and harmlessly lap at your ankles like the waves lap at the shore. Crucially though, these lands do not intrude upon those who are going somewhere in particular or even just with a goal in mind that isn't counting with getting nowhere in particular. Oh, one can stumble upon them by accident, but it has to be while wandering thoroughly aimlessly. So the fastest way to get there is by knowing that you need to traverse that stretch of terrain and going in a vague enough direction so that it can meet you on the way. And it is not difficult to find a place that could be hiding an entrance like that in this shifting landscape that becomes a camp or garden or forest mirroring old memories. 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖞 itself is a different story. It doesn't really shift or change and things inside can be unnervingly precise about their placement, but it honours every connection between two records. Its shelves, if seen as a whole, stretch in thousands of directions that don't quite fit into space that can be perceived or traversed. And so, trying their best to be comprehensible, some of them stay hidden from view and in general, searching through them becomes a game of you and them guessing what the other has in mind. And then there are the books, more or less alive with their own longings to fulfill, some not wishing to be bothered anymore, some thirsty for a little more life to be breathed into them by a reader who can hold their words in their warm, beating heart. And then there is your own aspiration, your own desire to find whatever it is you're looking for, and you would do well to hold on to it.