An Old Sort of Library

There was a stirring on the far end of the building, and Miss Naila wasn’t having it.

Naila understood the variation in response that people had for the collection, but she would not have disrespect of the halls.

So now at attention, she went about finding the source.

As it turned out it was a pair of children, one bold, one meek.

The meek one shivered at her appearance, which Miss Naila felt was good manners.

“What is it that has you in this little Din?”

The meek one cowered, as the Bold one said, “what’s it to you?”

“I’m the librarian, that’s my role.”

“A librarian? Ain’t that like being a cashier?”

“No, not at all, the physical requirements are consistent, but most other aspects are undoubtedly different,” Miss Naila said, “keeping such collections in order is a might bit more complicated than running a till.”

“I don’t know what's so fancy about that,” the Bold one continued, “You probably don’t even keep the numbers. Cashiers gotta know stuff.”

“You know visitors aren’t always this irksome.”

“Why would I need to know that? It’s not like it’s my job.” the bold one said, still full of bluster.

While the meek one remained panicked, recoiling from his friend's behavior.

Miss Naila wasn’t all that familiar with the truly imperious, why, in all her time in attendance to the halls she could only remember seven nearing the posture and conduct of the boy in front of her.

“Oh, I remember, your mother was just like you,” Naila realized, the boy’s demeanor finally reflecting off her memory. “She was a nuisance as well.”

“You probably remember when my Grandma was playing like that, maybe even my great-grandma! You old bat!”, said the Bold one, “Besides there’s literally no one else here!”

“Now that ain’t true, and even if it were, you're still being a nuisance.” 

“To who?”

“The halls themselves.”

“Where does the hall get off having ears?”

“Who needs ears to hear your ruckus?”

“Were-were we really that bad?”, asked the meek one, searching Naila’s ever sharp features.

“It’s not about how loud you were, it’s about your manners.”

“Yeah, I’m real sure of yours right? I mean you managed this entire time without introducing yourself.”

The Meek one was apparently unperturbed by this as he finally introduced them both, “I’m Ari and this is Savio, we’re running away.”

“Really, doesn’t much explain why you're bothering my Hall’s, does it?”

“We were hoping to access one of the grimoires actually.”

“Then why make a nuisance of yourselves?”

“Things kinda warp around the service bell.”

“Oh,” Naila put the events in order, she did make her own trouble sometimes, “I think I can help with that, what do you have on the grimoire you want?”

“Well Savio actually found something on transmogrification a while ago, we realized that the story might’ve been dubious. So mostly fact checking.”

“Well, I know that we have at least one copy of the Shaw-Ajit, it’s a rather ancient tome on sorcery but it’s one of the oldest books containing transmogrification in the collection,” Naila paused for a moment, “I’m sorry you probably don’t know Martaba, I could order a translation.”

“We don’t exactly have anywhere to be in the meantime. Do you have any suggestions?” 

She did of course, and Miss Naila was happy so long as they remained unobtrusive of the hall’s.

They had decided to hold up in an older reading nook, Ari taking the likely senile old couch, while Savio took the chair.

They decided to take one out of the collection for their own reading, even if they were unhoused for the moment.

Savio read the brunt of the text to Ari, while he set his sleeping area.

Miss Naila was much less bothered by such things in the evenings, than she was earlier in the day.

Though like anything else time and it’s movements were arguable in the library.

The children would wake up and leave for food, sure to return and entertain their host.

Miss Naila could remain aware of most things happening around the collection, while they had been obstructive at first, their movements became much more familiar to her.

Almost like the walls themselves.

“So how did you get here?”, Ari asked her one night, while Savio slept, “were you ever human?”

Miss Naila didn’t bother answering, as while such things might matter to the young it was hardly a point of contention for the ancient.

“So, how do you know what the walls like?”

“I’m not exactly a mind reader but I’ve been close to the halls for years, decades really.”

“Are you a nonagenarian?”

“I don’t quite care, but I think your chair might be.”

“Oh,” Ari was as weary as ever, “you ever think about Medieval underwear?”

The over aged thing that was the librarian giggled, “Why would I? it was all just shirts.”

“I don’t know, underwear is generally pretty interesting,” Ari cracked just about everything he knew to crack, before saying, “I’m sorry that Savio’s such a bad sleeper.”

“It’s alright, there's no point to punishing the sleeping.”

Ari rearranged himself in the chair “How hard is it to get translations? I mean some have gotta be straight up antediluvian, right?”

“I can’t exactly say, but I know that for some there are no congruent copies.”

Ari paused before letting out a huge yawn, “I should sleep before I bore you, or start snoring.”

Savio would wake first the next day, and he would pack their things for the day, so as to not be a nuisance.

Ari had contorted somewhat in the night, and while he managed to engulf himself beneath the fleece the arrangement was uncomfortable to look at.

Even for Miss Naila.

The boys had been preparing for the shipment, and Naila was happy to add to her collection because of it.

Savio was the one to ask for The Shaw-Ajit, a bit too early for Ari, as he was still trying to stretch the sleep from his joints.

Miss Naila was almost sure they wouldn’t manage to overstay their welcome.