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A thick, unrelenting torrent of rain pattered against the windowpane, streaking across its surface in long, pale fingers that slid down its translucent surface. The gentle rainfall fell like a silent drumbeat, echoing across the deserted halls of the darkened cafe. Its hallways carried naught but its steady, unending beat, punctuated only by the sharp, erratic thumps of her own heartbeat. She looked to and fro, seeing nothing but closed doors and black hallways, with but one illuminated door just a stone’s throw away from her. If she had bit her lip any harder, as if to desperately steady her frantic heart, she might’ve drawn blood.
“Shit… shit shit shit shit shit shit,” Gabby muttered under her breath, her quivering voice barely a pindrop amidst the steady rhythm above her. “Gah, why did I have to listen to Helena and Marie. This is stupid, so so so… stupid…”
She crossed her legs, her eyes fixated on the envelope crumpling in her hands. Anxiety threatened to overtake her, to cause her to sprint toward the exit in a vain attempt to escape, to run away from the cafe and the City as fast as her breath and body would take her. Yet, even as this fantasy flitted in the peripherals of her vision, the beauteous robe of black and gold still called to her, still settling in the back of her mind. Without a second thought, she slowly began her slow march across the hall, the soft echoes of her shoes like deafening gongs sounding her execution. Absentmindedly, she brushed stray locks of her red hair from her face. Her cheeks lit up as the thought of the scars across her face fluttered in her mind. What if she fixated on her appearance. No, wait, what if her cafe uniform was stained. This ruffled red jacket and these baggy pants; no, surely she’d take one look at her and scoff.
Her brown eyes blinked, and suddenly she was in front of her door. Before she could stop herself, she knocked twice. Two boisterous, uncouth bangings that struck a discordant countermelody to the raindrops above. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she immediately spun on her heel, a faint curse dying in her throat.
The door creaked open. “... You’re here late, Gabby.”
That calm, chilling voice seized her, tying her to that very spot. She slowly turned her head to meet that piercing, golden stare. “... Bena, I-uh… sorry, I-”
“Wanted to see me?” Bena finished, a faint smile forming across her pale face. The door opened wider, allowing the barista to draw close to Gabby. Even though she was a fair head shorter than Gabby, her unflinching deposition, her long, flowing robe of obsidian and gold, her sparkling eyes… it was as though she was a suffocating presence that towered over her, encompassing her in her very aura.
“Y-Yes…” Gabby said, struggling to catch her stuttering voice. “Y-You see, I-I well you see. Ronald and, uh… Ange wanted to say… I mean, uh, actually Helena-”
“What’s that in your hands?”
Her face went as red as her hair, and Gabby hurriedly hid her hands behind her back. “That? What’s that? There’s nothing there. Absolutely n-nothing. You must be seeing things.”
“You’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, Gabby,” Bena said, closing in on the quivering girl. She pressed up against her, her venomous smile locking her in place. “And my answer is yes.”
“Y-Yes…?” Gabby asked, feeling the strength leave her legs. She fell to her knees, looking up at the radiant girl above her. Her heart’s pounding threatened to tear from her chest, to flee from whatever catastrophe would befall upon its doomed owner. “What do you mean…?”
“I mean…” Bena said, clasping her hand tightly on Gabby’s shoulder. “... that I love you too.”
Giving little time for her to react, Bena’s lips locked with Gabby’s. Her body went limp, falling deeply into the embrace of the girl that she had longed for all her life. Red and black intermingled as the two shared a deep, longing kiss, their embrace meant to keep them together despite whatever cruel fate would dare try to pull them apart.”
A deep, uncomfortable silence settled across the Floor of Literature. Roland dared not even utter a single breath, lest that murderous gaze fall across him first. His eyes flicked first to the small draft that trembled in his hands, then to the librarians and guests gathered around him. Hod and Malkuth met his gaze, each with the same petrified stare.
“... now I understand this is short,” Binah began, a small clink from her teapot echoing in the otherwise dead silent room. “But it is just the beginning of my magnum opus. I have always had a… interest in writing, and now with the spare time given by our generous Director, I have felt like gracing the Book Club here with a small excerpt of my work, a rapturous love story born from the otherwise dilapidated and cruel heart of our depraved City.”
“A-And I’m so happy that you honored us with this entry!” Hod quickly answered, a pained smile plastered across her face. “It was… truly captivating. I just couldn’t look away! You certainly have a… way with words!”
Binah simply nodded in response, and the patron librarian felt, just for a second, that a sharp knife was pressed against her throat. Her eyes darted around, hoping that anyone who save her from the Arbiter’s murderous focus.
“And you, Director?” Binah asked, turning her gaze (much to Hod’s relief) toward the pale girl. “You’ve been awfully quiet the entire time. Have I stirred that mechanical heart of yours?”
Angela blankly returned Binah’s gaze. As the Arbiter blinked, her head cocking in anticipation, she turned to Roland, who silently but forcefully gestured at the director to-
Angela cleared her throat, rising from her chair. “My apologizes, Binah, but I forgot that I had some books to sort.”
“Oh?” Binah purred, her eyes narrowing. “From what floor?”
“The Floor of… Natural… Technological History…” Angela slowly replied, backing away from the group. “... Well, I shouldn’t keep the books waiting. Thank you again for the invitation, Hod.”
And before Hod could open her mouth to beg Angela to stay, the pale girl disappeared with a snap of her fingers, leaving only the rest of them to endure the Arbiter’s inquisition. Her gaze skimmed the remainder of the group, and she clicked her tongue in anticipation. “What about our other guests? I trust you enjoyed my artistry.”
“It was… inspired,” Xiao said with an awkward cough, her hand tightly gripping Lowell’s to the point where the latter thought she might break his in her vicegrip.
“I… simply couldn’t stop reading, Lady Binah,” Yan added, cold sweat causing his robe to stick uncomfortably to his body.
“It… definitely helps me forget work,” Yujin continued, hiding her awkward expression behind the draft in her hands.
“I wish you’d have just killed me instead,” Boris muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Binah asked, spinning to lock eyes with the Thumb capo. Far off in the distance, a lightbulb meekly popped and shattered.
“I-I mean the story killed me. It was so… good,” he stammered, readjusting his sunglasses.
“Of course, of course,” Binah said. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she finally turned to the last person to give her opinion. The redheaded patron librarian was still engrossed in the relatively short draft, her brow furrowed and her attention enraptured. Binah drew closer and closer, like a giddy child waiting for the present from her favorite uncle.
Finally, Gebura sighed. She threw the papers behind her before rising out of her chair. “Wow this fucking suuuuuuuuuucked.”
For a moment, Roland thought he heard a window break. The remainder of the patron librarians and guests anxiously began backing their chairs away from the haphazard circle formed, and the Grade 9 Fixer suddenly became aware of a suffocating, murderous presence that threatened to strike him down where he stood. He jumped out of his chair and pulled it back as well, holding it out in front of him as though to shield himself from the glowering, seething Arbiter.
“It doesn’t surprise me that the most inelegant of you is unable to appreciate true art,” Binah muttered under her breath, still fixated on the patron librarian.
“Art? Man this was fucking boring and cliche and shit,” Gebura continued, rolling her eyes. Like, who stays at a cafe way past closing? And there was like no build up to this romance or whatever. It felt really forced and honestly I couldn’t give less of a shit of how these two people feel. And ‘she’s being carried by her true feelings even though she wants to leave’ like come on every goddamn love story does that. It’s so boring and shit. And what kinda fucking name is Bena anywa-”
A golden pillar flew past Gebura’s head, slamming into the nearby bookshelf and reducing it - and the wall behind it - to ash and dust. Gebura smirked, manifesting Mimicry and spinning it into a lackadaisical backward grip, as she began to approach the shaking, enraged Arbiter in front of her.
“It appears I will have to beat culture into you,” Binah said curtly. She threw her arms out, a string of pillars appearing behind her, each radiating a destructive energy enough to level a small building.
“Pfft, this whole reading shit’s boring anyway - no offense, Hod.” She lowered herself into a sprinter’s stance, a similar bloodlust emanating from her as well. “C’mon, Binah. Let’s see if I can beat you up faster this time.”
The Library shook violently as pillars and fairies were flung about haphazardly, a splash of charcoal and gold intermixed with a crimson blur darting amidst violent fairy blasts and flying pillars. Even just a few seconds into their fight and already craters dotted the once-orderly Floor of Literature, books strewn across in a fiery, ashen heap as the two librarians clashed, each jockeying for the best position to kill the other. Roland - now pressed against one of the last few undamaged walls of the floor, finally lowered his chair, sighing in annoyance.
“Man, Angela’s gonna get us to clean this up afterward, isn’t she?”
“Possibly,” Hod said, drawing up next to Roland. “... This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I had fun.” Roland shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a small book. “Oh, the latest issue of Turbulence Office came out last week.”
“It did?” Hod asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know! That’s great! We should get the others and read it together!”
“Seems good,” Roland said with a nod. He opened the door, gesturing for the patron librarian to follow. “Let’s find Chesed and see if the others will meet back up on his floor. He can treat us to some coffee.”
With a radiant smile, the two quickly exited the war-torn floor, leaving the explosions, earthquakes, and bloodcurdling screams behind them.