[flashback][WMLibrary] Truth Is Stranger Than Fact (Hadrien)

[Zarius Shine]

Winter 80, 509 AV Zip sat in the stairwell, scrunched over close to the wall, a thick tome balanced on his knees. His eyes poured over the words that graced the pages of the history book, his right thumb nail wedged into the ridge between his two lower front teeth. With furrowed brow, he essayed to read in the dim light, his nose mere inches from the paper. It was late, and he should have been home an hour ago. His supper would be cold, stowed on the shelf in the tiny pantry off the kitchen, covered with a clean cloth. His mother despaired of his irregular hours, but she was tolerant, proud even, in her own quiet way. His father would already be nodding off in the tattered armchair by the hearth, tired from a long day, his eyes strained to the point of watering. Zip had been by his side throughout that day, pouring his attention and focus into the job at hand, as much as he would have liked to let him mind wander. But jewelcrafting was not a pursuit that allowed for a lackadaisical attitude. It required fixed attention to minute details. So Zip had done his best to not consider the implications of what he had been reading the evening before, in this very same spot, from the very same volume. It had been difficult, for he had an idea that it was in direct contradiction to what he had read in the history book that was now on the stair next to him, nestled against his thin hip. As soon as work was done, he had flown to the library on fast feet, if not exactly winged ones. He had quickly located the two books and was now absorbed in a comparison of sources, trying to discern a truth, operating under the fallacy that there is truth to be found in historical accounts. At fifteen (almost sixteen) he was still very naïve, when it came to scholarly pursuits. Disregarding the dark outside the high windows at the landing below, he read on. His place on the steps, just a few down from the landing upon which the door to the restricted second floor lay, inspired him. It inspired him to hope, to dream, that someday, he would actually be allowed entry. That, as a student of the university, he would have the privilege to absorb the knowledge that lay beyond those doors. Someday – if he could save enough for the fees. For now, he was still content to at least be allowed entry to the library, like any other who presented themselves at its grand front doors, and its first floor, which truly contained more than a lifetime’s worth of reading in itself. Eschewing the reading tables and tiny scholars’ desks that hid amongst the high stacks, he would typically seek the stairwell, for both symbolic and practical reasons. The practicality lay in the fact that no-one ever seemed to look for him there, and so his sojourn might last until the very moment that the caretakers roved through the vast alcoves and wings and rousted out whoever had not had the good sense to take themselves off to bed by that point in the night. Occasionally, his father, or rarely his mother, would come and seek him out and make him leave earlier than he wished. The stairs were safe though. Perhaps they thought that, as he couldn’t access the second floor, he’d have no business being on the stairs. A few of the nosier instructors or students had questioned him about that exact same issue. But Zip was a quiet person and was well known to the caretakers, even Mistress Lisaelis herself knew him by sight. And Zip could always get someone on staff to vouch for him. It was a bit cold on the stairs on this night in late Winter, and Zip hugged his arms about his thin frame, though he didn’t stop reading long enough to pull on his coat, which was crammed between him and the wall. He barely looked up, even, when a student, or maybe a teacher, hurried past him, on their way up, to those doors of heaven. The library would close in about a bell, and whoever it was must have been pressed to find a certain something before they got kicked out. His ears registered that someone too was coming out onto the landing, and apparently there was some minor collision between the two, for there was an exchange of muted exclamations and the clatter of things falling on the floor. One item at least bounced down the few steps to where Zip was sat, and came to rest by the toe of his boot. It was a pen, and its appearance was enough to make him pause and reach down, picking it up and turning to look over his shoulder. “I think you dropped this,” he said, probably unnecessarily, to the lone figure who stood on the landing still, gathering his things back together. “Need some help?” Zip asked politely, setting his precious book down on top of the other beside him, and walking up the steps, stretching his stiff muscles as he went.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian had to kneel down to collect everything. There was too much in his satchel, and his arms were full, and he wasn't particularly strong, and so tall and gangling that his center of gravity was probably somewhere in Lisnar. A pair of startlingly blue eyes looked up at the young man, curious and a bit too intense for one to be entirely comfortable staring back for any length of time. But he was polite. "Oh, thank you. I'm clumsy." As if to prove the point, in reaching out to take the pen, he dropped a book, which made him wince. They were precious to him, and the librarians gave him a great deal of leeway, taking books home and the like. It was An account of the rise of the post-Valterrian Zeltiva by a famous Nuit historian who was probably still alive (or at least not dead) in Sahova's famous citadel. He sighed, took the pen, and then, not wanting to risk another book, glanced at the boy before shooting his eyes to the book. "Would you mind terribly picking that one up? I need to get these back to my carrel and arranged for tomorrow before they close. I think I've worn out my welcome for burning the midnight oil after closing time, at least for this term." Of course, this wasn't merely a request for assistance, but a golden opportunity for the boy to enter that fabled second floor accompanied by a student.

[Zarius Shine]

“No problems,” he replied easily, returning the errant pen to the one who now knelt on the landing, trying to collect his things. But in the same breath, the poor guy dropped another book. Zip watched the comic routine, with an amused look on his face, though it was more one of sympathy than anything mocking. He realized the act wasn’t intended, and he could well empathize with feeling a bit outside of one’s own body, not quite knowing where arms and hands and feet and knees should go. Looking at the young man who had lost his various things from a satchel, Zip wasn’t entirely sure that he was a student. Zip was still young enough to be far from adept at putting an age to a face. But at least this face looked amiable enough, and he seemed mostly harmless. At the fellow’s polite request, Zip readily bent and scooped up the book, handling it with reverence, as he did all such bound earthly treasures. His father might be trying to develop his skill in having an eye for gems. But the boy found a much greater value in the written word, and knowledge of any scholarly kind. His attention, of course, was immediately drawn to the spine and he read the title silently, his face reflecting the careful consideration that he was bestowing on the seemingly plain volume. But his momentary absorption was distracted by the rest of the other’s remark, and his thoughtful look transformed to one of hopeful longing. “Oh, let me help you! Please. I mean, if you need help. You seem to have a lot to keep track of there.” Already, Zip was clutching the history text to his chest, possessively, barely daring to think that he might be allowed to enter that mystery of mysteries, that inner sanctum reserved for the erudite of the institution. But then his eyes went anxiously to the two books that he had temporarily abandoned, and he hastened down the steps to retrieve them, carefully sliding them beneath the other. Grabbing his jacket, too, he shoved it carelessly under his arm and regained the landing in two bounds. He regarded the young man with a look something akin to a dog begging for a walk. “You’re a student? How long have you been studying here.” Almost to forestall any protests about his own right, or lack thereof, to breach the upper citadel, Zip was already reaching for the handle of one of the double doors, skillfully cradling the three books to his skinny self. “I’ve never seen this book, but I’ve heard of the author. Have you read it yet? Are you studying history?” His questions were rapid fire, and some who knew him to be generally a quiet boy might have been surprised by his animated demeanor. But those who knew him best would know that there was little that interested Zip more than books, reading, studying, and learning.

[Hadrian]

Here Hadrian had been worried he was asking too much of a stranger, but the lad seemed overly eager to help, and soon had his own books and coat and they were on their way. He thanked him, still somewhat bemused, and walked along as he listened to the rapid-fire questions. Thanking him again for opening the door, Hadrian preceded him into the library, beginning to realize what was likely happening. It was all the same to him. University rules were university rules, but the thirst for knowledge was a thing they apparently shared, which made them, on some level, kin. His smile was tremulous, though. For all the etiquette drilled into him by his mother, he was still a bit socially awkward. "I'm a student, at least through the end of Spring if I can finish my thesis project and dissertation." These were advanced things, considering his relatively modest degree, but Hadrian was an overachiever. "I've been here since... Fall '06. I have read that book." In fact, he had read it about three times, which was how he was familiar enough with its contents to want to cite it in his dissertation. "I'm studying, well, several things. I suppose you would call it cultural anthropology, but specifically where it intersects with our interaction with magic." A scholar, then. He was careful not to mention that he dabbled in several disciplines in order to have first hand knowledge of what he wrote, nor that he had become rather a good magecrafter, too. It was all mathematical systems and technical feats, but coupled with an intuitive sense of natural energies, the perfect fusion of art and science. No, he kept that part to himself. "Ah, what about you?" He paused. "I'm Hadrian, by the bye. Hadrian Aelius. Pleased to meet you, and thank you again for the help."

[Zarius Shine]

Zip almost held his breath, in anticipation of the young man telling him that all was fine and he had it covered now and taking the book away and sliding through those magical doors – without him! But no – thank Eyris, the other simply walked through the door that Zip held open for him, and made no command or suggestion that Zip really should now go about his own business. In a euphoric state, Zip fell in beside the other, and they walked along, Zip’s eyes taking in the row upon row of shelves, almost reaching to the high ceiling above, and the thousands of precious, virginal volumes they housed. Virginal and ripe for the picking to Zip, at least, though their worn spines told of decades and centuries of use at the hands of many an eager suitor anxious to uncover and revel in their mysteries. So caught up in the rapture of this first encounter with the wonders of the second floor was he, that Zip was barely listening to his companion, his head tilting this way and that, soaking it all in. Someday, this sanctuary too would be his playground. Someday, when he was old enough, and had enough money for the fees. It would come – he told himself, with renewed vigor, looking at all the knowledge that awaited him. Even if it took him years to save, he would be a student here. He must be! Finally, after those first heady moments of entering the forbidden zone, what the young man was saying, in answer to Zip’s eager questions, was beginning to register. Dragging his attention away from the stacks, he looked at the one beside him with a bright gaze – his eyes shining as they sometimes will do when focused on the object of intense infatuation. He realized that his new acquaintance had both introduced himself and posed a question. “Cultural anthropology? What’s that?” Zip asked with a burning curiosity in his voice. He had never been interested in magic, per se. So that part kind of flew in one ear and out the other. “And I’m Zarius. Zarius Shine.” The boy rearranged things a bit and managed to stick out a hand. “Very nice to meet you too. And no worries. I…” Zip paused, uncertain as to whether he should make his confession, or if one was even necessary. Surely this guy would see that he wasn’t a student here, wouldn’t he? But Zip was ever a candid person. Deceipt, even by silence, never sat well with him. “I’m…not a student,” he said, wistfully. “Not yet!” he added, with an energetic emphasis to his words. “I will be, in a few years. Or…I hope to be. Once I have the money for the fees.” He glanced about, saying in a slightly anxious tone, “I’ve never been in here before. That… that’s one of the reasons I didn’t mind to help you – though I would have anyway!” he tacked on hastily, lest Hadrian think his assistance was entirely self-serving, which it wasn’t. Not totally. The anxiety left his voice to be replaced by an undercurrent of awe. “You are so lucky, to be able to come in here, whenever you like. To read, whatever you like.” He laughed in a slightly self-deprecating way. “I think I’d never leave if I could do that. Find a place to hole up and hide from the staff.” He gave Hadrian a quirky little grin. “That probably sounds so stupid. Everyone thinks it’s kind of weird, loving books so much.” His expression shifted, becoming a bit more intense, but also searching. “You must love to read, though, right? I mean…do you think it’s weird?”

[Hadrian]

"Ah, it's the branch of study focusing on cultural variations among human populations and non-human, but sentient populations. It encompasses economic, social, artistic, magical, and many other elements of the human condition. Well, I can only do so much from here. Eventually I will have to start traveling again to get firsthand experience..." The boy kept talking, though, so Hadrian clipped short his explanation. "Zarius Shine," he repeated to fix the name in his memory. "Oh, well... I won't tell anyone. It seems like you are determined to be a student in the future, so I won't sweat the temporal inconsistency." Anyway, Hadrian only learned the rules to know how better to break them when he couldn't work within them. But the talk of books reminded him of himself at a younger age. Though university life actually forced more socialization than being the young son of a merchant prince back in Syliras, he was still an awkward person and books he loved were more numerous than the people on that list. He smiled, more of a nervous tic than anything else, and looked away. It was vulnerable territory, that. "I do love to read. And..." He gathered his aplomb before looking back at the boy. "I have been known to fall asleep reading here and... well, some of the librarians wake me up before closing. Other's just let me sleep and lock me in. That isn't a tragic thing, actually."

[Zarius Shine]

Zip took some comfort in Hadrian’s promise not to rat on him, and his eyes widened at the student’s revelation about his own bookish habits. He grinned. “You’ve actually fallen asleep in here?” his gaze took in their surroundings. “Lucky! I’d love to spend the night here – though I don’t think I’d be sleeping.” Obviously, he didn’t see the confession as anything odd or ridiculous, only enviable. Despite Hadrian’s take on whether Zip had actually been listening to his explanation of his field of study, the boy actually had let it slide in, for temporary storage in his brain cells until he had a chance to ask further about it. Now seemed a good time, so he launched right in. “Anthropology – that sounds really interesting. I really love history.” He indicated the volumes still hugged to his chest. “That’s what these are. Well, one is probably more philosophy and the other maybe more archeology. I’m horrible at maths. But I love to read about different places, and people, and times. That’s what I want to do when I’m done with university – travel about and study things, you know, like, I think some places are really, really different from Zeltiva. I’ve only ever been here – born and raised. But I’d like to see, oh, like, Kalinor, and Ahnatep, and Avanthal – the lifestyles there must be fascinating. And I would live like the people in those places do, and write about it all. My grandmother was from Kalinor. She used to tell me all about it – it sounded quite fantastic. Well, parts of it…” His eager voice grew hesitant for the first time and he frowned, unsure of how this Hadrian fellow would take the fact that he was part Symenestra. It did bother some people. In a more subdued voice, he added, “She died, two years ago. But I said I would go there some day, to see what it’s like.” He looked at Hadrian. “Are you from here?”

[Hadrian]

There was another ghost of a smile. It made the rather severe lines of his face warm up into something almost attractive, but it was so brief one might wonder if it was merely a trick of the light. "The best part about history is the stories," he agreed quietly, but let the boy ramble on. If he really was like Hadrian in his younger days, than it was rare anyone let him speak his mind with an attentive ear and without judgment. At the mention of possible Symenestra heritage, however, he looked more closely at Zarius. There was no judgment there, only a queer intensity, as if he were trying to fit what his senses told him with that new datum of his ancestry. Certainly he erred toward the lanky and had lovely eyes, but so did Hadrian without Symenestra blood in his veins. But then they reached his carrel and he began to set books down and arrange them. "I'm from Syliras, actually. Not local, but not exactly exotic. I have been to Avanthal, though, when I was young. With my father. Cold but... wonderful. I would like to visit Kalinor someday. It would be a long journey, and difficult to navigate within the city from what I understand, but..." His eyes went far away for a moment. "Stories, right?"

[Zarius Shine]

If Hadrian was giving him a closer scrutiny, it was lost on the boy, whose eyes kept being dragged inexorably to the rows upon rows of books they passed. But then they reached the tiny desk that students could claim and use, to store the books they had continued need of. Zip carefully laid down the one he had used as an excuse to gain access to this magical place. Without thinking, his hand reached out to touch the spines of those which Hadrian already had neatly lined up on the narrow shelf, as his eyes scanned the titles. But then they lifted to look at Hadrian, shining with desire. “Syliras? And Avanthal? Oh, wow, I’d love to go there! Did you see the lights? And the Icewatch bears? And the Windoak? I don’t suppose they let just anyone see that? Did you ever want to join the knights? Wow, you are so lucky!” Perhaps for the first time, as he looked at the older student, Zip really saw him. It hit him suddenly just how quiet Hadrian was – or was being. Maybe he was talking too much. He bit down on his lower lip, as a physical reminder not to be so gabby. Generally speaking, one was supposed to be very quiet, in a library. Hadrian’s expression was pretty neutral, though Zip thought he might have seen the ghost of a smile there as they had walked to the carrel. He hoped the young man wasn't standing there silently thinking him a complete git. Deftly, Hadrian had arranged the books in whatever order he needed them in, and Zip thought that now, well, there wasn’t really a reason for him to linger. But, oh gods - the thought of having to leave was painful! “I – yes, I’ve heard that too.” He said, much more quietly. “If you visit Kalinor, you have to be carried from place to place in a basket. My grandmother said it was a long drop down, too.” He smiled, now a bit shy for having being so chatty. “That might be a bit scary – but fun, don’t you think?” He was looking at Hadrian curiously now. “I guess even an anthropologist might have to face a few risks? I mean, even just the traveling might be dangerous – do you…how will you protect yourself? If you travel about all over? Or do you intend to just stay put in one place?

[Hadrian]

"I saw the lights and the bears," he said, nodding, "but only the knights get to see the Windoak, I think. There are some exceptions, but I wasn't one of them. Perhaps someday, though." He had this idea that the Windoak was magical in origin, in which case its fallen leaves might make powerful reagents for his work. But he would have to earn access to such, and so for now it was just a thought. "And, actually, my brother is a squire now." Zarius' enthusiasm reminded him somewhat of Verus, though, as an Aelius, Verus had a bit more of an edge to him. They weren't mean people, his family, but his father had built upon his father's business, and there was a certain ruthlessness required to get to where he was and stay there. Such things were, apparently, heritable. "I hear that at the bottom of the cave are the moldering corpses left behind after the harvest bears fruit, and that there are monsters and disease down there..." There was a hint of childlike excitement in that horrifying statement, but before he could answer to his own future safety, he froze, listening. Then he put his finger over his mouth to indicate silence, curled his long, elegant fingers around Zarius' arm, and pulled him away from the carrel and through the stacks in a silent, zig-zagging flight. He knew where he was going, though, and eventually pulled the boy behind a decorative fall of heavy velvet in the corner of the room, whispering a shhhh, and pulling it around them into close, close quarters and hushed, expectant silence. It was to look like a curtain pulled back, but in reality it never moved, and it was one of Hadrian's hiding places when he wanted to stay past lock down. He hadn't anticipated how tight it would be with two people there, skinny though they were, but he wasn't much connected to his body and didn't seem to notice how they were shoved in a corner together in the dark, his hand on Zarius' waist, because if the boy was seen, then Hadrian's hiding place would be known. After a few long moments, they could both hear the footsteps and the creaks of chairs, the sounds of books being moved as the librarians went about tidying things and closing up shop.