Vienna is nice; it feels familiar like a lot of Europe does these days. There are hints of Budapest and Germany all around, which is unsurprising but very nice. And my German, while rusty, seems to be adequate :)
Deflections The Library was built over three floors and the bookshelves were built into the walls. Famine stepped off the ladder onto the deep-pile carpet that covered the floor of the top level and looked around. The shelves extended off away from him; he'd arrived at a corner, and they curved around other corners. Looking across the central atrium he could see more shelves, and how they curved and twisted as they followed the walls around; the library was strangely shaped and Death refused to comment when asked why it was built that way. Famine looked over the balcony that guarded the atrium, and saw the display cases and reading tables on the ground floor, and the wispy white figures of lost souls wandering around looking for something they couldn't describe. The Accords, or at least one copy of them, were down in a display case, but the shelves were used for housing more mundane things: the location of every living thing, prophecies of the end times that involved Death, War, Famine or Pestilence, recipes for banana-loaf and some disturbingly intricate guides to taxidermy. It was hard to tell if the bells were still tolling; all sounds were muted in the Library, and even when Famine concentrated on knowing more about the palace it was hard to get solid feelings. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour and turned left, snaking along a corridor past thousands of books until he came to a doorway. The door was as white as bone and the door handle appeared to be made from a femur scrimshawed into something intended to give the viewer nightmares. Famine recognised it as having been carved from real life, and allowed himself a slight smile. Then he opened the door and stepped into the Reading Room. While the Library was intended to be impressive and awe any visitors, the Reading Room was intended for Death to be comfortable in, so there was a powder-blue throw rug on the floor, a large chair that definitely wasn't a throne, despite the gold leaf, the outsized nature of it, and a certain feeling that it might be fit for a king if they asked nicely. There was a large desk in front of the chair, and a little brass bell sat on it next to a stack of papers so that Death could summon librarians to bring him paperwork or take it away again. Famine sat down in the chair, feeling as always like a boy sitting at his father's desk, and looked at the stack of papers. The top one shimmered slightly and he felt his gaze being pushed away, gently but relentlessly, as though a toddler were trying to stop him looking at it. He pressed against the deflection and felt it slide away, but then return from another angle and now his eyes were closing and he was starting to yawn. Again, he resisted the deflection and felt it once again slide away and then return; now he had an itch and his legs were feeling restless, insisting he get up and move about and stretch them. "Curious," he said aloud, and focussed his attention on the deflection. There was a sensation of darting motion cut off in all directions, and then a muffled squeak like a mouse being stood up, and the deflection compressed and faded away. The papers on the top bore a symbol of crossed axes, one of Mercy's little jokes. He reached out to them, and then paused. Death had mentioned traps....
Greg - I was in Vienna only briefly when I was backpacking around Europe. It wasn't my favorite stop, but if I recall correctly that may not have been entirely the city's fault.
Really enjoyed the description of the library and the attempted deflections. Curious to see what waits beyond the initial attempts to not let Famine read them.
2 comments:
Vienna is nice; it feels familiar like a lot of Europe does these days. There are hints of Budapest and Germany all around, which is unsurprising but very nice. And my German, while rusty, seems to be adequate :)
Deflections
The Library was built over three floors and the bookshelves were built into the walls. Famine stepped off the ladder onto the deep-pile carpet that covered the floor of the top level and looked around. The shelves extended off away from him; he'd arrived at a corner, and they curved around other corners. Looking across the central atrium he could see more shelves, and how they curved and twisted as they followed the walls around; the library was strangely shaped and Death refused to comment when asked why it was built that way. Famine looked over the balcony that guarded the atrium, and saw the display cases and reading tables on the ground floor, and the wispy white figures of lost souls wandering around looking for something they couldn't describe. The Accords, or at least one copy of them, were down in a display case, but the shelves were used for housing more mundane things: the location of every living thing, prophecies of the end times that involved Death, War, Famine or Pestilence, recipes for banana-loaf and some disturbingly intricate guides to taxidermy.
It was hard to tell if the bells were still tolling; all sounds were muted in the Library, and even when Famine concentrated on knowing more about the palace it was hard to get solid feelings. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour and turned left, snaking along a corridor past thousands of books until he came to a doorway. The door was as white as bone and the door handle appeared to be made from a femur scrimshawed into something intended to give the viewer nightmares. Famine recognised it as having been carved from real life, and allowed himself a slight smile. Then he opened the door and stepped into the Reading Room.
While the Library was intended to be impressive and awe any visitors, the Reading Room was intended for Death to be comfortable in, so there was a powder-blue throw rug on the floor, a large chair that definitely wasn't a throne, despite the gold leaf, the outsized nature of it, and a certain feeling that it might be fit for a king if they asked nicely. There was a large desk in front of the chair, and a little brass bell sat on it next to a stack of papers so that Death could summon librarians to bring him paperwork or take it away again. Famine sat down in the chair, feeling as always like a boy sitting at his father's desk, and looked at the stack of papers.
The top one shimmered slightly and he felt his gaze being pushed away, gently but relentlessly, as though a toddler were trying to stop him looking at it. He pressed against the deflection and felt it slide away, but then return from another angle and now his eyes were closing and he was starting to yawn. Again, he resisted the deflection and felt it once again slide away and then return; now he had an itch and his legs were feeling restless, insisting he get up and move about and stretch them.
"Curious," he said aloud, and focussed his attention on the deflection. There was a sensation of darting motion cut off in all directions, and then a muffled squeak like a mouse being stood up, and the deflection compressed and faded away.
The papers on the top bore a symbol of crossed axes, one of Mercy's little jokes. He reached out to them, and then paused. Death had mentioned traps....
Greg - I was in Vienna only briefly when I was backpacking around Europe. It wasn't my favorite stop, but if I recall correctly that may not have been entirely the city's fault.
Really enjoyed the description of the library and the attempted deflections. Curious to see what waits beyond the initial attempts to not let Famine read them.
Post a Comment