In The Library

It was quiet. Near silent. The only sounds to be heard were the rustle of paper and the musical tinkling of her bracelets as she turned the pages of the book currently consuming her attention. 

She sat, curled in her favorite spot. Tucked back into the farthest corner of the library. No one bothered her here. No one ever seemed to venture this deep into the old stacks. She wasn’t entirely sure why. Her best guess was a combination of the age of the books themselves and the lack of avid readers. 

When she had first laid eyes on the building, she couldn’t quite understand why a library of this size would even exist in a town as small and remote as this one. That was, of course, until she got close enough to feel the thrum of power that surrounded the place.

A protection spell. 

What it was protecting? Who it was warding against? Well, that was anyone’s guess. And she had no desire to find out. Years ago she may have asked the questions. Sought the answers. Not anymore. Those days were far behind her. She simply wanted peace. Peace and quiet. 

It was the whole reason she had come to this town in the first place. She supposed, when she allowed herself to think on it at all, the same was probably true of whoever brought the library here. Something about this town felt safe.

And so she stayed. She stayed and she took advantage of the vast collection and the warm feeling she felt at being inside it’s doors. 

She became one of it’s librarians. So dedicated was she that her coworkers teased her about simply living there. Truth be told….She would if she could. Protection spell aside, the smell of paper and ink, of glue and leather and cardstock, it was a comfort all its own.

So here she sat. After her shift. Tucked into her favorite corner. Curled up on an obscenely comfortable and obscenely orange loveseat. A cup of coffee steaming beside her. Surrounded by the oldest books and the distinct, slightly musty, smell of old wooden shelves.   

“So you did survive.” The deep voice sounded booming in the quiet of her corner.

Her body jerked in response, recognition flaring as hot as the pendant that warmed at the base of her neck. Her eyes popped wide as she lifted her head to stare at the face of the man she never thought to see again.

“Amnendal.” His name was barely a whisper on her lips.

“Evangelia.” Her name sounded like music coming from his.

He gazed at her. His honey eyes seemed to stare through her, straight into her very heart and soul. There was a time where that gaze brought comfort, warmth. But she could read his gaze then. Now, now his gaze was unfamiliar. And it had panic clawing its way up her throat.

She needed to escape.

He continued to observe her as her mind raced through the best possible options to flee. Where she would go, she had no clue. But anywhere was better than here.

“You shirk your duties.” His voice held all the disapproval his gaze hid. 

“I shirk nothing.” She bristled at that. Suddenly gone was her panic and her desire to run along with it. She would not be made to feel small or guilty. Not by him. Not anymore. “Your duties were never mine. I owe this world nothing. Just as it owes nothing to me.”

Her voice was firm. Her continued existence, her unexplainable longevity, did not destine her to the servitude of others. Too long she had believed it had. Exhausting herself with always making the right choice for everyone but herself. Helping people was one thing. Breaking herself past the point of comprehension was another thing entirely. 

Centuries. She had lived that way for centuries. And now, when she had finally pulled all the pieces back together….Finally carved out a tiny, quiet, peaceful existence for herself. She’d be damned before she ever went back to the way things had been.

“I am not some divine creature. I was not created with one sole purpose of servitude. We are not the same.” Her voice was strong, sure. She had thought long and hard over the years of the past and his duty had never been hers.

“You have changed.” He was displeased. Displeased by her apathy, by her new blatant disregard for his cause. “You once believed what we did was noble. Just. Now you throw it away as though it meant nothing.”

“Yes, I’ve changed. Nearly dying can do that to a person. And that’s what I am. A person.”

“You abandoned me.” His tone was accusatory and filled with hurt. “I thought we were to walk this path together.”

“Exactly! You thought! You never bothered to ask!” Her voice rose in both pitch and volume before she remembered herself. “You never asked what I wanted. Whether I was happy. Whether I was well after losing so much of myself. You didn’t care.”

Her eyes stung as all the feelings she’d buried more than a century ago came flooding back. The betrayal. The anger. The hurt. This man, who had once been like a brother to her. Her closest friend. Her partner. And he never cared to ask her what she wanted. What she needed.

“Do you truly think so ill of me? We were friends once, you and I.” 

She couldn’t handle how soft his voice became, the vulnerability. It tugged at her heartstrings. Which made her angry. 

“You allowed for me to be torn apart. Time and time again. You did nothing to stop it.” She was whispering now. Not fully prepared to make that admission.

“I did not know. I did not understand.” It was anguish. That is the only capable word of describing his tone. He was in anguish. He knelt in front of her, reaching out and covering her small hands with his own. “I am sorry.”

His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. 

It would seem she wasn’t the only one who had changed. His eyes held so much sorrow now. They had never looked that way before. He had always been steadfast, confident. And, even in the darkest of moments, his eyes had held hope. 

That hope was gone. Gone or buried. 

Had her leaving caused this? Had she taken that spark with her when she’d fled?

She realized, she no longer knew him. This man who kneeled and held her hands in desperation. This man who begged her forgiveness. He was a stranger to her. A stranger who was leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted.

They were strangers now. But, perhaps, they did not need to be.