Tea For Two (Closed)

[Ruby]

Tea For Two (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngmKy7ljLeg&feature=fvwrel)

2537


Closed to Regis.

I know not how such love can happen,
Know not how love can due arrive,
At my door without a face,
How can such a love survive?

How can I flip the ailing page?
Let my heart skip a beat in fold,
As I read into another world,
Weep at a story through such tale told.

How can a voice on the sound waves,
Make my spirit sunder twain,
How can I be shot of this damned aching,
Erase the marks on my heart’s grain?

Why must I love something so insubstantial?
Why can’t I love atoms in natural phase?


Cydney Oliver.

[Ruby]

The Lapse Faire was a small establishment, but it had big dreams and bigger hopes for the future. On the main street of Underwood it stood out like a sore thumb. It’s intricate window display and large, brightly painted floral sign that hung over the door on steel chain hinges made it eye catching and attractive to virtually everyone who happened to pass by. On a summer’s day like today, the offer of a perfectly brewed cup of Salvarian coffee with a hint of caramel was too good to pass up, and precisely the reason why Ruby Winchester of Scara Brae was perched on the small tables outside of the shop’s front.

She had been there most of the afternoon, head buried in a lofty tome concerning operatic projection and the recanting power of throat singing. The iron framework of the patio chair was sturdy enough to allow her to rest in its embrace without fearing for her own life, and the small circular table carried her cup, saucer, pile of books and purse whilst allowing for her to spread out her research materials and stretch her elbows. Though she had intended to travel north to Radasanth’s Grand Library, she did not think it would be too much of a strain to rest here on her laurels with a strong brew for a few hours.

“Is everything okay madam?” A plucky waiter asked as he passed the table, empty tray in hand. He wore a simple white shirt and black slacks, neither of which had a speck of dirt on them. With no thread out of place Ruby could not help but raise an eyebrow to inspect his pert buttocks before she answered.

“Splendid young man, it really is quite splendid,” she gestured to the still steaming cup.

With a polite nod he continued to weave through the tables before he disappeared through the coffee shop’s open door. Ruby watched him with relish before she returned her attention to the page of her book. She had to scan it to find her place, but when she did, she sighed. With consternation she folded the page and closed the tome, setting it to one side atop the small pile of similar works to take a brief period of respite.

For the first time in several hours she realised she was no longer alone. She had risen before dawn in Scara Brae to take the first fishing schooner available to the island of Corone. Her travels had brought her through Underwood before many of its residents had even contemplated waking up from their rural dreams of manure, caterwauling and shearing sheep. With delicate footwork and a sturdy spine lifting the weight of her reading materials over his rigid shoulders she had traipsed silently through the village oblivious to the signs of life that threatened to snare her forever.

“I wish I had never stopped to ask for directions,” she mumbled with amusement. The waiter had been silently polishing the table tops and drying the chairs so that customers would not wet their pantaloons on the morning dew when she had approached.

Several customers were seated on the adjacent tables now. An elderly woman had taken the table to her left on the corner of the small patio. She wore a dress not unlike a cupcake, large, frilly and horribly out of fashion even by Underwood’s standards. Her wrinkled skin and haggard nose placed her in the age bracket of woman who simply did not care for the turn of society’s groaning wheel anymore. With delicate sips she enjoyed what smelt like a chocolate coffee, something Ruby had learnt in her short education as a curious barrister was often called ‘mocha.’

There were three tables to her left. The first was surrounded by three small and jittery looking youths, who clearly were there for the somewhat intoxicating effects strong black coffee drunken quickly like liquor shots could have on an addled brain. Although she was in her thirties Ruby could not help but feel concerned for the boys. From their dishevelled appearance, inbred features and matted hair, she could only assume they were farm hands or similar manual labourers. To waste away their days in the fields and their mornings and evenings in the coffee houses and solitary tavern of this small town was an alien concept to the city born matriarch.

The second table was taken by an elderly gentleman who was also reading. Ruby skipped him to look at the final table by the door with a sly glance at the young man’s attractive brow and radiant blonde hair. The coffee shop attracted a wide variety of customers, old, infirm, young and curious. Ruby was glad that it did, as it made the monogamy of learning operatic incantation bearable.

“If I were ten years younger,” she whispered to herself before dropping her gaze back to her table. She traced the dark olive spirals that made up the wrought iron surface idly, before reaching for the delicate china handle of her coffee cup. It was still warm to the touch, which re-assured her, that her beverage did not yet need replacing. Wisps of steam spiralled up in front of her vision as she pulled it close to her lips and blew on the dark brown surface.

“He would probably still say no,” she added, before taking a long draught of the coffee. Its bitter taste was masque by the squeeze of lemon, slice of sugar beet and the sprinkle of coconut she had tempted herself with from the many glass jars that lined the polished marble serving counter inside. As a woman of Scara Brae, and a lady of the island’s noble households coffee was an entirely new phenomenon to Ruby. On Scara Brae, tea was the staple drink to mull over and discuss the day’s events. She had taken it upon herself to purchase a copy of the Underwood Gazette from the shop’s small selection of leaflets and journalistic publications, yet it remained folded and unread at the bottom of her book tower.

She set her cup down onto the floral saucer, in which a small pool of spilt coffee had cooled and leant back into her chair. She gazed across the railings which segregated the coffee shop patrons from the slow moving citizens of Underwood who wove up and down the long dusty main street through the village deep in conversation or oblivious to the outside world as they dragged their tired feet. The summer canopy overhead swayed in the breeze and in intermittent intervals, the late afternoon sun broke through the leaves and smote the ground with a halcyon bolt.

Ruby was now faced with a dilemma. Did she stay for another drink, and try the rum laced blue mountain coffee she had heard the youths on the adjacent table rave so feverishly about? Or did she pack up her belongings and began the trek north to Radasanth whilst daylight still prevailed and she could do so unaccompanied. War and strife still wandered the forest roads in all parts of Concordia, and though she carried with her a long blade and a heavy heart of song magic, she did not wish to lay her life on the line on stubborn notions of independence.

The book engrossed gentlemen on the table nearby raised his hand to flag the waiter the second he emerged from the door. Hearing his enigmatic voice place an order for cup of tea made up her mind with alarming speed. She too waved her arm gently to and fro over her head; as if the soft, cool breeze which spiralled through Underwood’s rustic streets were casting her about like a rag doll.

“Can I help you madam?” He asked with a smile.

“I would simply love a blue mountain cappuccino,” she struggled with the pronunciation but got there in the end. She wrinkled her lips at the sight of the young man smirking at her oratory woes. “With less of your smarm,” she cast him a stern glance before waving him away. He moved away with his steel tray held on fingertips and a new white cloth draped over his outstretched arm.

Whilst the blanket of jade an ochre in the tree canopy overhead continued to dance with an inner light from the sun’s rays, people continued to go to and from homes and chores whilst Ruby returned to her book. She slid the operatic tome aside and opened the Grande History of Raiaera instead. She had seen many a wondrous thing in the elven kingdoms when she had visited recently, but she had learnt so little of the country’s long and well chronicled time line she had invested in a first edition copy with a first-hand account of its legends and fables.

She started to read and mouthed the first few words to steel her concentration for a long afternoon and well spent evening. As she dove into daemon wars, blade singer councils and the many dangers of incorrect application of the ancient schools of song magic she could not help but glance to her left out of the corner of her eye. She had not expected to find someone with as keen an intellect as hers in such a backwater establishment. Whilst her appearance; crimson, fiery and beautiful made her stand out amongst Underwood’s coffee elite, the gentlemen with the books rang alarm bells in the matriarch’s mind. Was she just curious, or driven by instinct to keep staring at him in a horrifyingly uncivilised manner between each soon forgotten line of her text? She watched him eagerly whilst she waited for her coffee.

[The Keeper]

Regis Daili did not live a complicated life. He took pleasure in his simple routine as a librarian in Underwood, and at his age, routine became welcome. After all, a break in routine for an elderly man could mean health complications, and that never bade well.

As per routine, the man had found his usual seat at the Lapse Faire, reading his newest literary purchase and absorbing every stroke of ink into his mind. The small cafe did not attract a very large crowd. Many people would pass through for a hot drink, filling up on energy and vigor, but few would stay to simply relax and enjoy the moment. The people of Underwood did not have time to sit around and do nothing. There never existed a moment where work need not be done and that work became how most of Underwood would define themselves. The faces passed with blank expressions, no signs of interesting thought upon their features. They only cared about that which needed to be done by the end of the sun's time above, and that made Regis sad.

However, he did not fault them for their ways; life had become increasingly difficult in the recent past, with the Corone Rangers taking control of the town and pushing further North to fight the Corone Empire. Luckily, Regis' age would protect him from such woes, even though that same age prepared him to perish at any moment. Regardless of who politically ruled the land of Underwood, the library would still stand, and people would continue to seek knowledge. That meant that Regis still had a job to do, and so he would continue his life as it has long since been, bringing the love of literature, language and lore to all who those who sought it.

As he sipped on last remnants of his cup of baron gray tea, he would glance up every so often and spot a young woman who seemed completely out of place, in body and mind. Her bright red hair, littered with a few vibrant feathers, gently danced upon the wind beautifully as the rustling leaves above sang a tune to her exotic look. Her eyes held the same deep fiery ruby as the locks of her hair, burning holes into the countless tomes she had scattered across her small table, an organized chaos that only she could likely navigate.

Truthfully, Regis' interest lay less in the woman and more in her small collection, the librarian always intrigued by anything that even resembled a book, curious to find one that he had not yet seen. He had called over Tommy, the youthful waiter that had come to know Regis quite well, and asked him for another order. After doing so, the librarian stood, carefully straightening out his overcoat and strode toward the young woman's table.

"Good afternoon, Beatrice." Regis said, bowing slightly toward the woman with the cupcake dress. "I see this beautiful summer day has brought out the best in you. You are beaming brighter than the sun, and that dress looks marvelous on you."

"Why thank you, Regis," The woman said, her face wrinkling in an attempt to smile while the layers of cosmetics flaked at the unexpected motion. Regis smiled and bowed again slightly before turning to the fiery young woman before him.

"Hello, young miss. I don't believe I've seen you before, and that of course warrants an introduction. My name is Regis Daili. I'm the local librarian, and I must say, your selection is quite riveting. I find the first few chapters of the Grande History of Raiaera are quite pleasant; the Age of Magic is inspiring to read." He smiled as the woman looked up from her reading, clearly intrigued by the events that transpired. "May I join you? I must say, I do enjoy good conversation and you look like someone who has many interesting stories to tell."

[Ruby]

Ruby blinked in as lady like a manner as was possible. She was not often approached by intellectual gentlemen, and she had not prepared herself for the eventuality of that sort of discussion in Underwood’s sleepy and hardworking environ. She awkwardly observed her surroundings with nervous, twitchy movements whilst she tried to decide on wherever or not to invite the man to join her. He seemed perfectly respectable, but appearances as Ruby knew only too well could be deceiving.

“I…don’t see why not,” she said somewhat flatly.

She was suddenly struck with awe. It was not quiet attraction. She had reserved most of her energy in that regard for sly glances at the waiter’s buttocks whenever he wove past from serving fresh teas to the elderly patrons with a smile and a cheap thrill. It was more…mutual recognition she had for the gentlemen.

“Though I am immediately pressed to enquire as to the location of this library. Underwood is many things, in myth and actuality, but I never saw it as a place of learning.”

She did what was right and slid the chair opposite hers out from underneath the petite table with a delicate thrust of her heel against its cross bar. It made a scraping sound over the paving slabs that decked the front of the coffee shop, which dragged the lazy patron’s attention to the new goings in on the sleepy town.

“At least, not academic learning; I imagine there’s plenty to be learnt about petty crime, thatched roves and ploughing turnips.”

A like-minded meeting of academics did not hold the rumour mongers and gossips in sway for long though, and Ruby and the gentleman were soon nothing more than two patrons meeting for a hot beverage.

“You’ll be telling me there’s a University here next!” She chuckled, half joking, have conjuring satire as a shield against the social awkwardness she felt. She liked to be in control, yet this gentleman made her feel so blissfully ignorant and naive. A feeling she felt often in the company of her husband, the enigmatic Leopold Winchester.

She guessed intelligence did that to most women.

“Sorry to ramble, but you’ve piqued my curiosity and frankly, I’m awed that you’ve even heard of this tome,” she tapped it gently. It’s soft leather cover, badly worn by time’s progress and the harsh light of the sun kicked up little clouds of dust. It had rested unread for several months since Ruby had returned from her travails in the elven kingdoms. She had thought the journey to Radasanth to save refugees from the continued devastation of Raiaera to be an appropriate opportunity to acquaint her further with the country’s history.

[The Keeper]

"Well, my dear, you've given me much to talk about already. I suppose I'll start from the beginning." He lifted the porcelain pot of tea with one hand and held the lid in place with the other while pouring the golden liquid into a cup, the steam rising up and mingling with the aroma of her fresh coffee. "My library exists a bit off the beaten path and out of the main bustle of the town's people. It's a bit isolated but still within the town's territory and allows for those who do decide to visit to find some solace and peace during their exploration of knowledge."

Regis smiled, taking a moment to lean over his cup of tea and gently waft the aroma with a tired hand toward his refined pallet. "However, there is no university, though I have been prompting the town committee for pushing through such an initiative. Given the military circumstances, it is not currently possible, but I retain hope." Regis lifted a hand in the air, glancing over to the waiter who simply nodded and disappeared behind the door.

"Now as for the book, it is quite a classic. Written and revised many times over the centuries and maintained by a small committee of historians who are comprised of specialists from different regions. An effective idea, as to avoid biases and garner many perspectives, on both the events themselves as well as the language used to present their ideas. I keep a copy in my library, as well as the previous versions. A draft that they have asked me to look over sits in the drawer of my desk as we speak."

The waiter returned with an extra cup, setting it upon a matching saucer on the metal table that the pair shared and stepped away with a smile. Regis noticed that the lady's eyes continued to follow the waiter, but he said nothing.

"I find that there will always be those who seek knowledge and those who are willing to share it, and even in a small town like Underwood, overtaken by a new political structure and in the thralls of war, there will always exist places like my library to bring comfort to those who seek it."

"Now," he began, filling the next cup with the aromatic fluid, "I would love to share with you some stories of my own, as well as a cup of tea. I hope you enjoy the flavor, though I see you have a cup of coffee as well. I assure you, you won't be disappointed by my brew." He gently slid the saucer closer to her, folding his hands before him as he waited for his own tea to cool slightly. "May I ask you your name? Perhaps even a bit about yourself? Your accent stands out, as does your appearance, and there's something deceptive in the way you present yourself. I may be wrong, but I have a hunch that you are keeping a few secrets, even before a sound finds its way through your pursed lips."

[Ruby]

In any other set of circumstances Ruby would have driven her stiletto heel through the gentleman’s groin, garrotted him with her scarf and strolled away whistling her fancy in a middle c melody her mother had taught her a long, long time ago. As they were in polite company, in a qualm corner of the world, she resisted the temptation. With a quick suck of air and a roll of her eyes, she rebuked his enquiry tactfully.

“A woman that has lived as many centuries as I have undoubtedly collects secrets like old trinkets gathering dust on a mantel. It adds to the air of mystery about a person, do you not think?”

She set her cup of coffee down onto its saucer with a tinkle before enthusiastically pushing it to one side.

“My name is Ruby. Someone younger than I would perhaps use Mrs Winchester.” The wry, perhaps slightly sarcastic tone in her voice was not menacing, but it left the gentlemen the choice as to which name to address her with. Though many years younger in her present form, she was most certainly his senior chronologically.

Despite her flawless, coconut scented skin; she was as haggard on the inside as the gnarled boughs of the oak trees which overhung the rooftops of the sleepy little village.

“I’m sure this tea is a secret unto itself, so I daresay you’ve quite a few untold truths of your own.”

With care, she lifted the cup of the gentleman’s beverage to her lips and tilted it slowly. One draught of its piping hot rush of subtly layered infusion and she could not contain her surprise.

“This would go down a treat in Scara Brae,” which did not say as much about it as the gentleman might have hoped. The tea in Scara Brae was dire.

“Forgive me,” she smacked her lips as she realised she was divulging from the main topic of conversation and set the cup back onto the table.

“I must not stray from asking you the same question. What is the name of the historian that treats me so kindly to ambrosia, and titillates me so naturally with his promises of profound conversation?”

Ruby was a woman that had learned to pretend to not be paying attention despite the fact that she was eagle eyed and did not forget a single facet of a moment. She saw several heads turn at the mention of the word titillate and smiled on the inside, a beaming sort of self-satisfaction that mirrored the broken rays of sunlight which continued to waver and fade and burst back into life all around the coffee shop.

If only she had realised how informative these places could be, and just how much fun she could have.

[The Keeper]

"We all have our secrets, Mrs. Winchester," Regis began with a smile. "Perhaps it's all we have. Sometimes it feels like what we keep in our mind is the only thing we have control over, and even that has lost its privacy with time and magic."

Regis reached to the side to a saucer took a vanilla and anise flavored biscuit, dipping it lightly in his tea before taking a small nibble of the side. "I must say, the local baker truly does know pastry." He lifted his cup to his lips, taking a small and silent sip of the tea before setting it down delicately. He leaned back in his seat, ankles crossed beneath the table and hands folded upon his lap where an embroidered silk handkerchief had somehow appeared.

"I mean no disrespect, Mrs. Winchester, and I surely can make no such promises. After all, you are my senior and I surely have much more to learn from you than you from I. All I can offer you is polite company and a friendly ear, and if you are keen on telling a story or asking a question, I'll be happy to oblige you as best I can. I'm a simple man who has lived a simple life in a simple town. I've never been much for travel, aside from the trips I take to the beautifully written landscapes of literature. If I had the chance, I'd thank each and every writer kind enough to create such profound works that I may collect in my library. However, that's not always enough."

Regis scratched at his nose, little freckles of leaves falling from the autumn foliage and tickling the man's sensitive skin. He closed his eyes once the sensation had disappeared and took a deep breath of the fresh forest air, a small smirk dancing across his features. "I don't mean to stray off topic, Mrs. Winchester, but I do so love the fall season. As I said, I'm not quite world-weary, but I might be hard pressed to find something more soothingly beautiful than the colors of the forest this time of year. Would you agree?"

[Ruby]

Ruby Winchester had been most unkind. Whilst she still doubted the man’s motives for requesting to join her, he was anything but uncouth and certainly, utterly deserving of her stoic, stone faced attitude towards him. Here was a fine and very respectable gentlemen with no interest (she assumed) in her assets offering to parlay with her on matters that, well, mattered, and she was taking him for a prying busy body.

Tracing the golden leaves as they fell from the trees to the well-trodden thoroughfare that trailed through Underwood, Ruby chuckled to herself. She had been asked the most invasive of questions, so perhaps her attitude wasn’t totally unwarranted. You did not request two pieces of information from a woman, especially if you valued your genitals. The first was her age. Ruby was so old even she could not dare to ask herself that question. Five centuries or more of self-loathing vanity had seen to that. The second was to ask her of her secrets, something akin to treason in her world.

“I do so love autumn as well. However, I find it much more enjoyable during winter’s chill embrace. Then and only then do the trees show their tree ugliness – do the last vestiges of their splendour fall away to tattered rags of brown, hazelnut and rye.” Her words were almost poetic, but they carried with them a sort of mature sensitivity and morbid fascination with the circle of life.

She shook her head and picked up her tea cup once again. “Forgive my somewhat abrupt nature Mr Daili; it was rude of me to act so unjustifiably. You may ask anything you wish of me, I have nothing to hide, and no secrets that I cannot live with.”

There were perhaps one or two she would struggle to let pass her lips without them being bloodied or torn or placed under considerable duress. She doubted, from his courtly manner and his intellect that he would be foolish enough to dare press her to that extreme. As was polite, she allowed the dust to settle from her apology and reply before she drummed up a more light-hearted comment. The rolling sun beams and the gentle clatter of a teaspoon against a china cup filled the air with a merry tone to contrast against her cold inflections on the environment.

“Apart from tea, pastry, company and calamity in the strange village of Underwood, what news do you have to share? I imagine you hear enough rumours here, Underwood being on the trade routes north to south. Perhaps you’ve even heard of new developments in the war?” It had been many months since she had last visited Radasanth to aid Sei Orlougne in his strange quest to press-gang refugees into the cause of the Empire. She wondered if her deed and her involvement, though a double agenda for the Rangers had turned the tide of the war to a side she would not suffer to be victorious.

“It would please me so to hear you speak of the world,” she smiled warmly, drank the last of her tea noisily and set the cup down onto the floral saucer.

[The Keeper]

Regis rested his hands in his lap, sitting back in his seat with a slight smirk on his face that spoke of an understanding that did not need to be voiced. "You know," he began, looking into the woman's eyes, "I find your view most interesting. It seems life has led you down the path of a cynic." He chuckled softly, the warm sound finding its way through the light chill of the breeze. "But admittedly, I also find it a bit odd."

He paused for a moment, looking around at the beautiful trees. The reds mingling with the yellows, making some orange but not forgetting the shades of green either. It was like following the spectrum along the cycle of life and seeing the natural painting of Mother Nature come to life through death.

"I don't mean to offend, so please do forgive me Mrs. Winchester. But I must admit that for a man such as myself, it is a bit ironic to see how our views differ so. My body says that I am an old man, but in your eyes, I am but a child. Just as the elves defy aging and I am a child to even the adolescents of their kind. Yet even as my body decays with every passing day, and life becomes more and more difficult to lead, I find myself lacking the morbidity of your tone."

He placed two fingers of his hand over his mouth, resting his chin gently upon the open palm and an elbow on the table. He stared down into the golden-brown liquid that leaked its delicious aroma into the air through a gentle and warm steam. He lowered his hand, reaching down for the cup and bringing it to his nose and taking in a deep breath of the delicious brew, closing his eyes as he did so.

"You see, as I've said, I'm not very well traveled, but word travels faster than I ever could. I've heard of the uprising in the old city of Knife's Edge up in the cold of Salvar. I've heard the rumors of the current war with the Empire and the Rangers, constantly raging on as the rebels fight those in power. I've heard the endless stream of heroic stories of the legendary Sei Orlouge – and I must say, I'm on the constant lookout for his renowned orange hair. I've even kept up with the technological advances from the land of Alerar. There's been a recent surge in news regarding the airships and the attention they are drawing all over Althanas. Personally, I'm most interested in what goes on in the Outlands – the areas not yet mapped out or discussed. A friend of mine said that a strange ship docked in the port of Radasanth not too long ago and seemed to have been from a far away land. He detected some sort of veil that protected its appearance, but it seems to have already left port, and barely more than a day or two after making port."

The old man let out a sigh, staring down at the table for a moment with a grin on his face before he raised his gaze up to the beautiful woman.

"But you know, I have a confession. And I only tell you this because it seems to contrast your own views so much, and I hope to change your mind, even if only a little. I spend much of my time reading, and much of what I've read is fictional in nature. People often tell the stories of that which they wish would happen in their own lives, and since it doesn't, they live through it in the words they read and write. Yet that very notion is what gives me hope."

He laughed, realizing how silly he must sound and could tell by the woman's expression that he wasn't too far off the mark. "I suppose you can call me an idealist. Despite all the war and violence and theft and crime, I am convinced that the world of Althanas has the potential to be a marvelous and peaceful place for all. I dream of a world where there is no bigotry, where there is no violence, no hunger, no deceit, and so on. Of course, no world will ever be perfectly removed of all negative aspects of life, but we can try, and we can certainly do better than what we have."

He leaned back again in his seat fiddling with the handle of his teacup as he continued to look into the woman's fiery red eyes. "Some may call me childish. Even yourself, Mrs. Winchester. But to be honest, if childishness is what grants one the ability to never give up on an ideal world for all, then perhaps we could do with a few less adults in this world, don't you think?" He let out another light chuckle as he broke eye contact, still smirking and lifting the cup of tea to his lips and sipping on the delicious and familiar brew.

[Ruby]

Ruby thought to herself for a moment, uncaring about the silence that ruptured the calm, collected exchange. She weighed up the possible responses to Regis’ self-flagellating and self-deprecating comments, and almost chuckled at his depressing sentiment. She had never considered her interest in literature to be immature, childish or churlish. It was, after all, the livelihood that gave her purpose, the desire that kept all members of the Tantalum troupe aflame.

“Do forgive me Mr Dali, I have been uncouth and difficult whilst you have been every bit the gentleman,” she sat up straight in her chair, back arched and shoulders held regally and taught. “In truth, I have been cold because I do not know how to respond to you. I did not expect, especially here of all places to find a kindred spirit in the pursuit of knowledge. I live amongst the brightest, most talented actors and academics of Scara Brae, so I have high expectations.” She checked the contents of her now empty mug and sloshed the dregs with disappointment.

“Expectations you have surpassed without difficulty.”

She stared up into the canopy with a reflective expression plastered over her menstrual cheekbones and her stubborn refusal to smile more than was absolutely required of her. The librarian seemed to dream of other worlds, find comfort in tall tales and literary creations, and longed to conjure all the grace from those words into a new reality – she admired him for that alone. Books always told moral tales, even with happy endings, and there was a great deal you could learn from them if you were tied to one small nook in a large and infinite realm of possibilities.

“I do not think you childish for thinking as you do, nor do I think the notion of changing the world through knowledge and peace naive,” she dropped to smile, deeming this moment to be one of those required revelations of her heart. It closed quickly, and she pushed the empty cup away; it grated over the intricately woven ivy and flowers that made the framework of the trestle table.

“I used to feel the same, I used to hide myself in the characters I played, their personas became masks behind which the truthful me could hide, cower, shake and rattle.” She had spent centuries almost doing just that, only in the last decade, since Duffy’s arrival into the Tantalum had she been shown the error of her ways – only since then had her heart been unlocked, burnt to cinders and rekindled anew like a phoenix rising from its ashes.

“What if I told you I could make your hopes come true?” The magic in her words danced over the pile of books and scrabbled at the librarian’s mantle, hoping to incite him to joy, intrigue and enthusiasm. Ruby saw now an opportunity not only to learn something new, but to pass on some of the joy she felt in hearing and seeing The Aria to someone who clearly needed it. She hoped to channel her gifts to impart some small moment of wonderment to a man who was a keeper of wisdom, a cloister for the history of the world and a keen orator of the stories of the realms of Althanas.

Her respect for him was magnanimous.

“Show me the library, let me fondle the pages of its tomes, cradle the knowledge and the atmosphere. With that experience, I will sing to life your favourite poem. An exchange, if you will,” she bolted upright, leaning forwards, half whispering, half straining to contain herself with the excitement of the idea which was shocking her limbs to life. “Such an exchange would be most mutually beneficial. Teach me to read this,” she tapped the operatic tome at the bottom of the pile, its spine glowing with silver skeins, “and I will teach you to step into your books.”

[The Keeper]

Regis smiled, a gentle breeze rushing past and rustling the thin white wisps of his hair. "I never refuse a request to visit my library. I'd be honored to have you." The librarian reached into the inside of his overcoat and pulled out some coin to pay for the meal. He set it down with a gentle click upon the metal table and pushed his seat back to rise. "Would you please join me?" He stood and walked over to the woman, extending a hand that she took with her ever-suspicious smile.

"Tommy," Regis called to one of the other workers at the small cafe. "Would you be so kind as to bring this lovely lady's belongings by to my library as soon as possible? And do be careful, they are very delicate and valuable to her."

"Of course, sir." The young boy, not yet a teenager even, bowed slightly at the pair before scurrying off to the back to find a means to transport the goods.

"He's a good lad," Regis said as he and the woman locked elbows.

The two began to walk in stride in the direction of the library, Regis taking note of how fluent and graceful the woman's movements were. "Do you dance?" he asked, giving just a moment's glance toward the woman. "You know, I used to love dancing when I was a young lad; though to be truthful, I generally danced with an invisible partner." Regis chuckled at himself, looking back on his youth. "The old librarian kept a gramophone in the main area. He played classical music all through the day. He was convinced that it would make you smarter." At that, even Ruby couldn't stifle a delicate laugh. "Even after I had grown into an adult, I couldn't shake the habit. I'd dance even now if my old bones weren't starting to rot from within."

"I may have a song for that as well," the fiery woman said, smiling at Regis, and this time he felt there was some sincerity behind the gesture.

"I'd like that," he said, smiling back.

As usual, Regis had rambled the time away and the two had already found their way to the Library. After all, Underwood was no Knife's Edge; the town was not excessively large. The building stood two stories tall with a small patio wrapped around with comfortable looking benches lining the exterior. The building itself was of a rich white stone, coarse and rugged but durable. The roof rose to a single peak, though not too steep, and was covered in burgundy shingles that seemed as pristine as the first day they had been put up.

"How old did you say this library was?" she asked, expecting the building to have aged more.

"A couple of centuries at least," Regis answered, leading her to the front door. "I presume you're wondering why it looks brand new?" The woman did not answer. She only continued to ogle the structure. "There's magic within these walls, and not only in the words written within."

"I know," she mumbled, but too quietly for Regis to hear.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning a bit closer.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's beautiful."

He smiled, removing a very beautiful key from his coat and inserting it into what appeared to be a lock, though quite untraditional. Once the key had been inserted and turned, the door glided open so quietly that it seemed made of air. Yet the woman did not seem to notice as the world unfolded before her.

The interior of the library reached up beyond where the roof should have been, and farther beyond the walls as well. The collection was remarkable, and an array of colors battered her eyes as the spines of countless books peered out upon her from their hiding places, begging to be opened and scoured by the thirsty mind. The very aura of the library made one feel inspired, and as the woman stepped along the polished chestnut floors, her heels clacking upon the hard surface, Regis stepped aside and placed a record upon the gramophone, gently placing the needle and letting the beautiful melodies of classical music sing their songs to the audience of thousands of tomes.

"What do you think?" Regis asked, an obvious glow upon his features now that he was back within the sanctity of his library.

[Ruby]

“What I think, and what I feel, both tell me to flatter you senseless,” Ruby, despite having seen this very library many times before could only falter before its beauty.

She could not remember when she had been here, or what had spurned her to comment beneath her breath in response to the librarian’s questions, but she most certainly had been here. DéjÃ* vu was a natural accompaniment to a life lived in the service of the Tantalum Theatre troupe, an unavoidable, unethical, eternal truth.

“I feel awe,” which was the simplest was she could think of to express the immensity pressing down on her shoulders. Though addled with a litre of tea, and half asleep beneath the duress of the stoic walk between the tea house and their eventual destination, Ruby somehow felt renewed here.

“I think I am dead, because a realm so filled with the knowledge of aeons could only be heaven,” her courtly manner overtook her fiery thoughts, guiding her words on a dignified path as she stepped forwards and took in the grandiose sights of Regis’ home. “It matters not where I look,” she made a melodramatic show of peering up into the rafters; “wisdom surrounds me.”

It was not the most elegant metaphor Ruby could think of, but it would have to suffice. Given reigns to comment and critique, she danced forwards, night pranced her way into the centre of the large chamber, arms eschew and spiralling step carrying the hem of her dress upwards into a flourish of crimson, blood scent and deep umbra horizon.

“Tell me,” she stopped suddenly, stomping on the heady floor and turning her attention back to Regis, “where are your tomes on Scara Brae?” A selfish thought broke the wonderment, drawing in the dusty spines, well attended reading desks and the rural idyll which encroached on them from every poky window. “I would much like to see what you hold here on my home, and all its many struggles, tomes and aeons worth of history!”

The look on her face, which was youthful and vigorous in contrast to her middle aged visage, implied she was overly excited, out of her comfort zone and wondering just what he, with his promises of interment in a novel could mean to a man who likely knew everything there was to know. She rested on tenterhooks for his response, eagerly hoping and throwing caution to the wind that she yet had something to offer the enigmatic gentlemen.

[The Keeper]

Regis smiled, striding in a relaxed manner to a desk that was very much like a home to him. He lifted the pot of tea that still sat upon his desk from earlier that morning, the tea cool, and poured what was left into his cup.

"Well, that would depend on what perspective you'd want on that history," he replied, taking a sip of the golden liquid as the woman continued to look at him. "I have the traditional volumes of text, written by traditional historians. You may know many of the names. Such as the human historians Veslor Deldeny and Aldard Yenfire, the dwarven historian Chadim Coppergrimm, or even the elven historian Anith Sehhal. But I also have a few less tradition volumes, such as one written by an orc believe it or not –a old shaman named Garuk Terg. Her perspective was one of the most interesting."

The librarian could detect some recognition at some of the names given the expression painted upon the woman's face, and he took the opportunity to continue his little play with words.

"However, I've found that more often than not, it is the historians who tend to get much of it wrong. To truly understand the history of a region, one must look at other sources, such as the people of that region. I have artistic collections, poetry, fiction, pamphlets, newspapers of all kinds, all sorted neatly into their proper places. As I said, this building holds many secrets and stretches far beyond what one would imagine. Endless art galleries, archives of anything and everything, and all in near mint condition – the magic of this building is quite useful, to say the least."

He smiled, the youthful joy he had held when he first discovered the marvelous building finding its way back upon his features. "Now, you tell me what it is you want and I will take you there, and while you browse, I believe you mentioned something about stepping into books. To be truthful, I'm not quite sure what that means, but if I were to ever enter into the world of a book, I have just the one in mind, and I'll fetch it while you browse."

The old man finished the bit of liquid left in his teacup and walked around his mahogany desk, letting his fingers trace the glossy surface as he went. "Now," he said, standing beside the woman yet again and presenting his arm again, "where would you like to go in the history of Scara Brae?"

[Ruby]

Ruby considered her options and settled on a particular period of Scara Brae’ history that was common enough in the history books, but difficult to approach with any enthusiasm. It, like all the dull periods of time and space had been reported to death by victors and slaves, and held no importance for either party after being diluted for decades.

“I would love to hear about the Molyneux Rebellion and the fall of the Innari family from the noble heraldry of Scara Brae.” Her lips pursed the sort of motion that often came with scorn. On Ruby’s face, however, it came across more as academic pleasure, a stern, hard need to be satisfied by cold, hard fact.

“That is,” she let her heels loosen, so that she stood upright and regal and without any buoyancy, “if you have anything on my home from five centuries ago.”

Regis, though wizened beyond his years could not know, despite his learning, that Ruby herself had lived through the rebellion. She had walked the streets of her home as it had burnt, and she had fought alongside the noble mages and artisans against the sorcerer’s cruel barbed rebellion as they fought to emancipate their brethren from the suppose annulment – an outlawing of magical practice in the open streets of the island’s capitol.

She was testing him, a test that would prove the librarian’s worth to receive her boon. Tantalus was a generous Thayne, bountiful and pleasant and eternally working to the deliverance of creation throughout Althanas, but there were morals and tribulations in any divine benefit.

“I’d be more than understanding if you didn’t,” she smiled weakly, testing the man’s resolve further.

She watched him, eagerly, softly, curiously. Her curls and tea stained teeth provided a strange juxtaposition in form and function alongside the man’s dust laden figure and book addled brain. The matriarch longed to be proven wrong, because if the man possessed a tome on the Molyneux, then she could recourse her memories and transport him through time and space and majesty and land him wherever he wanted to be throughout the annuls of life.

From the autumnal backdrop of Concordia to the summery backdrop of the universe, Ruby was just getting excited about the way the day was turning out. To think she had expected nothing more from her journey north than a finished book and a stiff back.

[The Keeper]

Regis smirked and walked off, lifting a finger to motion for her to follow. The magic of the library had an odd link to the mind of the Keeper, which at this point in history was Regis, and so everything existed by the organizational architecture of that individual's mind. The previous Keeper of the library had told Regis stories of times when the library existed in an organized chaos, when nothing could be found unless the Keeper himself retrieved it.

Now however, with Regis' mind, things were easier. Every item within the walls of this magical kingdom of knowledge could be found by anyone who could spell, count and read. The walls were lined with labels and tags, dates and titles and authors written upon all. If one removed a book from the tall shelves, they would see within the book a small synopsis written by a Keeper in the past, and it was clear upon Regis' features and in his stride that he held much pride in his work.

"I always found the Molyneux Rebellion an interesting piece of history, though typical in form. After all, what's so new about human politicians manipulating events in order to better position themselves?" Regis let out a laugh, always glad that he avoided direct involvement in such situations. "Personally, I think I would have sided with the Sorceror Molyneux, though perhaps inciting the race of goblins, the Innari I believe, may not have been the best route to take. I'm no politician, but I've read a thing or two, to say the least.

"Ah, here we are," he said as he came to a halt and ran his fingers along the spines of some books. "I think you will find this most interesting, as you won't find something like this anywhere else."

He pulled down a thin leather-bound tome that looked rather new, despite having to be at least five-hundred years old. The dark blue cover had no title anywhere to be found. Regis held the book out for the woman as she delicately took it, skepticism clear on her features, but as she opened the small book and read the title of the first page, the excitement was clear upon her face.

"This is the diary of Corella Tarmikos, the lover and apprentice of Sorceror Molyneux himself. Don't ask how I came about such a rare item, because I wouldn't have an answer for you. After all, it was far before my time."

Regis chuckled, watching as her fingers anxiously flipped through pages and eyes frantically scoured through the contents. He realized that any word he might say wouldn't be heard. "I'm going to go find that book I mentioned while you indulge."

Regis turned and walked off, leaving the woman to read while he retrieved the novel that he had been told she could sing him into, whatever that meant. His walk was brief given his familiarity with the location of the book, and as he found it, he lifted up his finger atop the spine and held it there for a moment. This had been the first book he had read, and it held a special place in his heart; it was a beautiful work of fiction, written about a place and time far beyond where the world of Althanas currently was, though Alerar was said to be similar. He slid the book down from the shelf and held it gently in his hands, running a hand over the cover.

"The Sleepless City," he said, mumbling the title aloud. He tucked the book to his side and walked back to the woman who still stood where he had left her, though clearly she had gotten through much more of the diary in that brief time.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Not a very nice royal family, those Valeena, and a shame what happened to those Innari and the rest of the magic users."

[Ruby]

Ruby could only smile as Regis enthralled her sensibilities with an account, however succinct and punctual, of the best time of her life. She had not heard her former name in so long it had almost fallen from memory.

After she had been Wainwright Jone’s lover, she had killed herself swaddled with grief at having fallen for such a tyrant.

She had been reborn, as per the edict of her birth right as a shard of Tantalus, as Carmella Tarnikos. Her loins, at the recollection, warmed and tingled with the prospect of being able to relive those glorious days, if even just for a few brief moments whilst Regis gallivanted in whatever far flung realm her spell song would cast him to.

“That was a truly dark time in the long history of an otherwise island resplendent with life.” Her lips pursed. She was not sure of how to proceed, distracted by her own thoughts. Many voices sung in her mind, she was not sure which were hers, or which her former selves were. “I can only dream of coming to know a small part of what it was like to have lived through those times through the skeins of history recorded here,” she examined a few select pages of the book Regis had presented to her.

It weighed heavily in her fingers, and smelt readily like a legacy unread for an age. It represented the vast repository of knowledge that surrounded them perfectly.

“History has a habit,” she looked up from the pages, not having realised the librarian had departed earshot to fix himself with another tome, “however, of being recorded through the eyes of the victor. The war was not so clear cut as this book,” she traced her finger over several lines on the eighth and ninth pages, “would lead you to believe.”

The then monarch had started the rioting that had been the catalyst for the rebellion. The Innari framed for the murder of the young noble merchant had been most unsuspecting of a visit from the Royal Guard at dawn. Ruby had watched from the rooftops, on wings of love and power, powerless to stop the political machinations that were afoot in her home.

“This is a remarkable collection, and a remarkable tome,” she closed it with a delicate press of her fingers. It snapped shut, leaving the dusty pages to be unread for another decade. She held it out, and Regis took it with a nod.

“I feel a strange sensation, a calling from the heart of my talent as a spell singer.”

She did not wait for the man’s reaction.

“<To the heart of the matter my erudite friend,
Let us sing of lovers in dusty streets.
Let love become cleanliness, scouring our souls,
Let the people of this city our laughter meet!>”

Ruby, overwhelmed by the swell of emotions formed from remembering her past life could only turn on her delicate heels. Her stomach sloshed with too much tea, her mind with too much information, her heart with too much passion. With every rotation she pleaded with Tantalus to send Regis, for just a brief amount of time, to the place he desired to see.

“<Oh sleepless city, sleepless world, reveal your form to me,
Show me the beauty to be found in chaos,
Show me the heart of the sleepless city!>”

Somehow, the book in the librarian’s hand was calling to her.

She staggered.

“Oh sh-” the red head nearly tumbled, overwhelmed by the vomit rising up her gullet, which tasted of tannin and biscuits.

By the time she righted herself, her legality long gone; there was nothing to be seen of the enigmatic Regis Dali besides a flutter of a drum solo and a medley of blue ribbons that spiralled in his absence before fading into the limelight.

“Oh shit indeed…”

[The Keeper]

The song, though beautifully sung, sounded a bit odd to Regis. The notes carried magic to them, and the melody danced through the air with purpose as it engulfed the man. The world around him began to fog and in reflex, he took off his spectacles in order to clean them. However, as the colors meshed and the world faded away, by the time the man returned the glasses to the brim of his nose, Ruby was gone.

Slowly, the sound of her song that still resonated within Regis' very heart was replaced by a loud and raucous cacophony - one completely unfamiliar to the aged man. Beeps and honks, squeals and screeches, thuds and bumps all filled the air. Regis' heart rate jumped as his fear began to settle in, realizing that he was not in his library any longer. The only semblance of calm that the man could hold onto was the realization of familiarity in the world around him; not a familiarity that one has with a place they've visited, but rather of one they've heard of.

This was the Sleepless City, a world of fiction that Regis never dreamed to see manifested. Vessels set upon quartets of black wheels whistled and swirled past one another, gliding along a wide and flat black surface that looked like rock. Surrounding him were massive structures that shot up into the air, scores of meters high. Some were made of glass, some of metal, some of stone, and all looked as though they would topple over him at any moment.

The people too were different here. They were all human and wore garments unfamiliar to Regis, though some wore outfits that seemed similar to his own collared shirt and black trousers. Yet there were plenty more vibrant outfits here, and people definitely seemed to be less bashful with their bodies - many of the women wore clothing so tight that Regis had to wonder how they exactly moved. There were some that even had their bosoms and legs so exposed that the old man almost felt a childhood desire come back to life - almost.

"Move!" a man yelled, bumping into Regis as he stood gawking openly at the world around him.

"Hey, come on!" a woman yelled, bumping into the man and smacking her lips with a 'tch' sound as her oversized golden bag bounced on the side of her wide hips.

A rush of people brushed past Regis, sending him whirling and spinning and disorienting the poor old man as he tried to acclimate himself. Another woman's bag struck him in the stomach as she pushed passed; coupled with the disgusting odor in the air that reeked of fermenting garbage and some weird smog caused the man to enter into a coughing fit, staggering back and putting his back to a wall.

'What does she keep in that thing?' Regis thought.

After the crowd had passed, Regis began to wander along the coarse gray pathway that everyone else seemed to amble upon. He followed most of the people, trying to conform to the behaviors of those around him and remembering all that which he had read about the Sleepless City. He would cross the dark pathways where the four-wheeled carts traveled only when others did so, seeing a little light of a walking man up ahead telling him that it was okay. The entire city seemed slapped onto a grid, numbered and lettered so that anyone who knew the alphabet and how to count could navigate the region.

He noticed many shops that had a green sign that people rushed into and out of constantly, each one as busy as the last, and one seemingly every fifty meters apart. There was a symbol of a woman on a green background on each structure and every individual who walked out carried a cup with that same woman painted upon the side. He wondered if this was some ritualistic behavior or cult, as he didn't remember reading much about it; he almost thought that the woman was a deity of some kind for the people to worship - the cups containing holy water of some kind. If only he knew how accurate that statement truly was.

Hours passed, or so it seemed, as the old man sauntered about through the massive city, entering into shops and touching anything and everything. He read the packages, the instructions, the ingredients, the stories, and anything else he could find. The man took advantage and absorbed every piece of input he could find until he had exhausted himself.

Finally, he spotted a bit of refuge from the bustle of busyness and saw an open green field full of trees and winding paths. He looked around the corner he stood on and found yet another 'church' beside him, and he decided to enter and see what the structure held within its walls. He stood in line, waiting for her serving of holy water, and listened intently to the man before him.

'Venti caramel macchiato... right...' He let the words repeat in his mind, thinking them some password or prayer.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"Venti caramel macchiato."

"That'd be three-sixty-five, sir."

Regis stood in a bit of panic, wondering what the woman meant. "Three sixty five what?"

"Three dollars and sixty five cents, sir."

Regis stood embarrassed, fumbling with his own words - something that never happened to him. "I... I don't know what that is..." The woman sighed as the drink was set upon the counter in front of him, and he looked at it guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'm not from here," he managed to say, letting out a resigned chuckle.

"Just go," she said, pushing the drink to him. "Next!"

Regis, already wanting to get away, took the cup and rushed out of the building, his heart racing in fear that there would be serious repercussions for his actions. Then he remembered that he was still within the book, whatever that meant, and he let himself relax a little, hoping that this would just end at some point in the near future.

Taking his drink, he went into the wide expanse of what the local people called a park - at least that's what he thought they called it, based on what he had heard of those nearby. This was something more familiar to Regis, as it resembled Underwood more closely than anything else he had seen. The fields of grass, cut short, were peppered with the occasional tree and lined with pathways similar to ones the man had been walking upon all afternoon. Eventually, he settled down upon a patch of grass, setting down with his now cooled 'venti caramel macchiato' and began to sip on the beige liquid tentatively.

Regis couldn't help but laugh as he tasted the flavor, relaxing finally and waiting for the magic of the dweomer to dissipate. "This is just coffee," he said with a smile, taking another sip.

[Ruby]

The fact that Ruby had just sworn was outdone only by the fact that her song had worked. The gentleman she had met no more than a few hours prior was, for all intent and purpose, quite alarmingly not here. Ruby’s expression went through the seven stages of guilt in the space of a few seconds, arriving at despair and non chalant ignorance quicker than she could realise she was overreacting.

“It’s alright,” she said forcibly, heavy breath empowering her words with a rush of air. “He’s just gone into a book. He’s going to be a few moments, and that’s that.” Her hands wavered, her hair shone with fading flames, her heart raced.

She didn’t believe a word she said.

Though she possessed a few centuries of training in the Turlin arts of the blade singing college, she had never considered herself to be potent enough to exile another into a realm she had no idea existed. To trap a man in a book would be something fit only for Nalith herself, the blade singer high singer. She pursed her lips.

“Just a few moments…” she repeated, as if saying it again would make it any truer than the first time.

Inexplicably and suddenly alone, Ruby Winchester stared at her surroundings. The rows upon rows of historical tomes, romantic fiction and reference books which had enticed her, nay, aroused her only moments ago were suddenly ominous, frightening, imposing. She felt choked by the weight of history and the pressure of knowledge that surrounded her. She felt, though she’d never admit it aloud, utterly alone.

Statuesque and cold, she waited, entirely unsure what to do with herself in Mr Dailis’ absence. She really did hope he would re-emerge from this ‘Sleepless City’, in one piece was added to her silent wish as an afterthought.

[The Keeper]

Though hours had passed in the magical realm of the Sleepless City, mere minutes passed in the world of Althanas. Not long after he had faded away and found himself walking the crowded streets of a world within a book, Regis slowly emerged in the library of Underwood, invigorated by his travels, however artificial.

"Well then!" he shouted with some enthusiasm, causing Ruby to jump despite watching the man slowly re-emerge from a mist to a complete human form. "That was quite exciting! I never imagined I'd get to experience something like that!"

Ruby blinked at the man, as his typically reserved and calm nature seemed completely replaced by a youthful vigor. "So it worked?" she asked, just to be sure that the spell had gone as planned. After all, the only proof she had was that the man disappeared for a few minutes.

"Oh yes, very much so! I spent hours travelling through the world of my favorite novel. It was remarkable! There is so much to learn that is simply not written by an author when describing a world. So many minor details that don't add much to the story, but are so much a part of the world!"

"Hours?" she asked with confusion, as he had only been gone a few minutes.

"Well," he said, looking at his watch, "it felt like hours at least. Perhaps it's a trick of the magic."

Ruby shook her head, tucking the events away to analyze further at another time. "Regis, I'd like to make you an offer. Have you heard of the Ixian Knights?"

Regis tilted his head slightly to the side. "Yes, of course. Sei Orlogue and his warriors who fight for, supposedly, the greater good. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm a member of these knights, and I'd like to invite you to join us."

Regis' eyebrows rose high and his eyes went wide with surprise as he began to process the words. In just a moment, he regained his composure, smiling warmly at the woman. "Truly, having such an offer given to me is a tremendously flattering gesture, but I'm no knight. I'm just a humble librarian who loves to read. In good faith, I could never take such an offer."

A sadness found its way across Regis' face, as the adventure of the Sleepless City flashed through his mind. "However, if you would occasionally grant me such journeys through my books as I had today, I would be more than happy to dedicate myself in any way, as well as my library, to any needs that arise for the Ixian Knights. If there's anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to reach out to me, and I will do all I can for the goodly Sei Orlogue and his people."

He bowed graciously to the woman, showing her the utmost respect he felt she deserved. "However, I believe it's time I returned to my work, and I'm sure you have other obligations, as you are an Ixian knight." He smiled warmly, offering his elbow to the woman as she linked arms with the gentle old man who walked her back to the entrance of the magical library.

"Please, do visit," he said sincerely, leading her through the door. "I very much enjoyed your company Mrs. Winchester; or should I say... Mrs. Tarnikos?" he asked with a sly wink. As he began to shut the door, he caught a glimpse of the woman's face as he called her that, reaffirming his curious assumptions. He chuckled, returning to his desk and setting a pot of water to boil on his magical burner.

"What a wonderful and interesting world," he mumbled to himself, setting his elbows on his desk and letting his thoughts wander. "Wonderful and interesting indeed..."

[Ruby]

It took several minutes for the last few moments of her afternoon with the librarian to truly sink in. Stepping out into the afternoon, which had been lunch time when they had entered the library, she pulled an expression that equated offense mingled with surprise.

“Wait a minute…” she bit her lip, unfolding her scarf from about her waist to put it to more practical use. “How the devil did he know?” She wrapped it around her neck and tucked it into an appropriate knot.

There was, or so it seemed, considerably more to Regis than she had originally given him credit for. What had seemingly started out as a discourse on politics, news and wonderment had become something altogether more informative and enlightening. She sighed.

“I wish I could hide away and delve into the myths and madness,” with a humdrum aura, she started her way down the road, back towards the heart of Underwood. Once upon a time, she would have done just that. Buried in books on plays, poems and arias, she would have been at one with the stage for all eternity. Life like history tended to change as time went on.

She hoped that one day, in the distant future, she could return to those glory days. For now, all she had to look forward to was hard work, struggle, and a rather dry mouth. Whilst tea for two was a spectacular part of life that Ruby Winchester thoroughly enjoyed, there was always the awkward after taste to contend with.

There was a nagging doubt in the woman’s mind that despite her intention to test the man’s honour, intellect and obvious contention with his academic life, it had been he that had tested her. She felt the need to ask of him a hundred questions for each one he asked of her. Her gift of tea, conversation and company did not seem like a remotely fair exchange for what he had given her.

Insight.

“I guess I have some more reading to do.” She cast her mind to the pile of books she had been trawling through in the coffee shop. She would return there, to continue to study, and to refresh her palate with lapsang souchong and one of the fluffy almond slices with crème that had become a ritual for the Winchester family, and the whole troupe for that matter, whenever they travelled through Concordia north to Radasanth.

With delicate footwork, she took on a more regal air that shed any indication that she had just been left bare and bewildered about her darkest secret. Soft thuds of heels on dirt now dry from the night’s precipitation were her only compliment. Ruby chuckled, realising that like all her predecessors, whenever they had been outwitted, taken aback or cast adrift by the wonderful men in their lives, they too had taken to cake, caffeine and excessively high heels.

[Sagequeen]

Full commentary, new rubric, as requested.

Plot ~ 20/30

Storytelling ~ 5/10 - The telling of this story had a lot of potential for significance, of meaningfulness, and of self discovery. While it reached in this direction, the attempt fell short of truly grasping and conveying these qualities. I get what the story was about, but it was not able to connect with me, the reader, on a poignient level.

Setting ~ 9/10 - On the whole, both of you wrote the setting beautifully, meshing together and creating a world in which the players lived. The descriptions of the seasons I could visualize with crystal clarity, and the lovingly described library conjured the familiar sights and smells I know rather well. The only awkward place here was the walk from the coffee house and the library; it was as if Regis and Ruby walked from one beautiful set, across a blank backdrop, and onto another, equally beautiful set.

Pacing ~ 6/10 - The pacing here seemed to affect the telling of the story; it was very slow and reflective. While this quest is an academic pursuit in nature, the dialog lagged; a few fiery exchanges (wit tennis, as I've heard it called) would have set the stage for periods of reflection, and broken the monotony of a single type of delivery during the first half of the story.

Character ~ 19/30

Communication ~ 6/10 - Overall, the communication between the main characters left a lot ot be desired. It was lackluster in that I did not sense any real spark between them. They both speak in riddles and mystery, but without revealing enough to each other to make it interesting.

Action ~ 6/10 - The character's actions were reflective of what they were doing, sipping coffee and tea, leafing through books, everything that could be expected. Ruby was checking out men, and Regis was sweet when he greeted the older, fashionless lady. Ruby, for you, what I found is that you provided a lot of good beginnings in action, but never stopped to explain why. For example, why did hearing Regis' voice cause her to order the cappuccino she had so recently look down her nose at inbred farmhands for shooting? Why indeed did the presence of Regis raise alarm bells, causing her to stare? On the other hand, Regis, I knew exactly why Regis walked over and introduced himself to Ruby.

Persona ~ 7/10 - Ruby, you had a very strong start introducing your character; I got a very real sense of her through her travels, her reading interests, her oogling at the waiter, etc. However, when the meeting with Regis began, things became incongruous and confusing. She repeatedly thought and said she should not be so rude, but the rudeness you envisioned was not conveyed. Also, I was confused by her flip-flopping feelings toward Regis. I would have expected her to leave smugness and exhibit an uneasy curiosity, then outright awe and respect. It was as though you hoped to express all three at once instead of letting her experience those naturally, with key developments spurring that growth.

Regis, you did very well developing your character throughout - except one key problem aforementioned. His character revelation that he knows much more than a simple man should was too shocking as it was presented. I pick up on a few subtle things throughout that tell me you were aware of this, but even adding a line or two, to give the reader something to question, would have been beneficial. If it was your intent to have his seemingly inexplicable knowledge that Ruby was, in fact, older than himself act as foreshadowing - well - it was only confusing. That, to me, seemed like an error because there was no 'knowing grin,' or something of the like.

Prose ~ 20/30

Mechanics ~ 6/10 - I see typical problems: run-ons, lack of commas, sentence structure that breaks clarity. Ruby, one common problem I see is the use of 'it's' in place of its. If you can say 'it is' in the place of an 'it's,' then you are in the clear. It's does not show possession; rather, it is a contraction for 'it is.'

You'll score immediately higher in this category with careful proofreading.

Clarity ~ 6/10 - Mechanics errors caused clarity issues here. Additionally, word misusage (deserving instead of undeserving) caused me to go back and read again. Ruby's attitude toward Regis I had to go over several times, and I am still left asking 'why' in a lot of cases.

Technique ~ 8/10 - Foreshadowing was very much needed for the development of Regis knowing Ruby's other identity. It seemed much like a cheap thrill inserted in at the last moment; for that to have been truly great, Regis should have said, done, or thought something that, without revealing too much, would make sense with that revelation.

I thought there was both some overreaching and also some moments of pure brilliance in the use of higher literary techniques. For example, one problematic sentence was "The summer canopy overhead swayed in the breeze and in intermittent intervals, the late afternoon sun broke through the leaves and smote the ground with a halcyon bolt." Aside from being a run-on, the gentle nature of the first sentence and the use of the word 'halcyon' project a calm, beautiful image, and 'smote' seems completely out of place.

Wildcard: 6/10

Total ~ 65/100

Ruby Winchester earns 1134 EXP and 130 gold.
The Keeper earns 872 EXP and 120 gold.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.