Needful Things, Monday Afternoon
How very embarrassing, to find one's self tired today in such odd little bursts. Leland Gaunt was more amused than displeased to discover that the vagaries of this island might apply to him; it was a curiosity, nothing more. In any regard, his shop was open, and he had such lovely trinkets to sell.
NEEDFUL THINGS
A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORE
You Won ( Read more... )
NEEDFUL THINGS
A DIFFERENT KIND OF STORE
You Won ( Read more... )
The weather was warmer today, and she was well-rested; it seemed like the perfect time to shop. Okay, maybe she was still a Princess. An antiques store shouldn't be too expensive, after all.
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Leland didn't think it would be terribly difficult to convince her, though. Really, she might even do the convincing on her own, if she found the right item.
"Good afternoon," he greeted her, giving her a pleasant nod. "Lovely day today, isn't it?"
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She took a look around the store. It was different from when Seifer had had it. She missed him, but that was another thought for another time.
She took a deep breath. "I love how antiques stores smell," she admitted. "The mustiness of them."
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"That's it exactly," she said. "Time, and experience. Knowledge. People working to uncover bits of the universe, and scribbling their thoughts down in the margins as they go."
She flushed. "You have to forgive me," she said, easily. "If I'm like this around antiques, just imagine how bad I am in libraries."
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He gestured with one hand toward the bookshelf near the back of the room.
"You're welcome to look through it to see if anything grabs your eye. I lose hours there myself, just... learning. Discovering whatever I can. It's all quite fascinating, you'll find."
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She was trying not to look like a starving man who'd been offered prime rib as she headed desperately towards the bookshelf. How had she not seen the bookshelf!?
"You have to come to my store some time," she called, over her shoulder, as she drank in the richness of his volumes. "I own the magic store? And it's mostly magic items, or magic-related, but they have these old, old books, full of runes and languages I can't even determine, and they smell divine."
She was able to pop her head up again long enough to remember something important. "Oh, right," she said. "Magic's real, and there are people on this island who can do it? It's not a big deal or anything, so don't freak out if no one told you."
And, while she was at it, "... I didn't actually introduce myself, did I?"
Could he bottle this scent? She'd bathe in it. Eau de old manuscripts.
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He probably wouldn't. No hard feelings, Rinoa.
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People here were excellent at just going with it. Fandom had that effect on you, after a while.
"Rinoa Heartilly," she said, primly, "store owner, book aficionado, and Sorceress." She was being brave and simply putting it out there. He was fascinated by magic; she had to hope he didn't fear those who were magic. It wasn't always the case.
"Stop in and I'll give you discount," she added. "Maybe we can trade some of our rare books. Is this really one of Shakespeare's folios!?"
She wasn't from this world, no, but she'd devoured plenty about this world's rare books while she was here.
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"I've been given good cause to believe that it is," Leland agreed, and his chest practically puffed out with pride. "I have to confess, I was tempted to keep that item for myself. Every now and again I come across something that's simply priceless, after all. Though it would be a shame to deny somebody such a thing if it was truly their heart's desire. It is my firm belief that each of the items in my shop has a proper home, a person for whom an object's worth far exceeds whatever it might be worth to me. Who would I be, to deny somebody that?"
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Rinoa had been about to explain how guilty she would feel, if someone were to buy an arcane book from her store, accidentally say the wrong words, and summon giant mushrooms to trample over their classmates.
But she didn't. Because -- no. That couldn't be right. She leaned in, breathless, and ran her fingers over an old leather spine.
The Descendants of Hyne
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And then, gently, he was going to speak again, with a voice like salted caramel that hid just how hungry he was.
"I'm sorry Ms. Heartilly, did you need a minute?"
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The Descendants of Hyne
Reflections, Musings and Memories From the Private Diary of
THE SORCERESS MELIA
"Do you know what this -- how did you even -- I need this."
Her whole life was in her hands. Who she was. What it meant. She'd never heard of this Melia; no doubt this book had been destroyed in one of the purges. But this Melia had left a diary.
One full of memories and reflections. Crazed, war-hungry sorceresses didn't leave diaries full of memories and reflections. She had been sane. And she had rather a lot to say about it.
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He tilted his head a little, thoughtfully.
"I hear there aren't many books like that one, anymore. I've done my best to recover as many of its ilk that I can, but mostly in vain, I'm afraid." He gave her a sympathetic look. "As a Sorceress yourself, I imagine a find like this must be earth-shaking."
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She gave Leland a frustrated glare, though the ire wasn't directed at him. "How does that help?" she asked. "Sorceresses exist. You kill one, another accepts her powers. They're not going to just go away. Making sure we don't know anything about ourselves, how is that supposed to prevent us from going crazy? It's -- it's so stupid."
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The corners of his mouth twitched, something that was threatening to be a melancholy, rueful smile.
"Take it, learn from it, guard it well. If only everybody had a chance to hold something with the potential to make so much about themselves even a little bit clearer."
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