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“All entertained elves are alike; each bored elf is bored in its own way.”
Thup. Shch thup. Shch thup. Click. Click. Click.
“This bored elf is out of his gourd.”
Merle’s approach - thump, thump, thump; scritch of blunt nails across sideburns; the sound of heavy boots thick and dull in the library. “C’mon, we’re on a, uh, space-island-ship surrounded by magic. You can’t be that bored. We gotta live it up in our last free hours before the next mission.”
Taako’s response - susurrus of tiny shoulder cape in his full-body swoop towards the voice; clackety-clackety heels stinging the marble floor. One hand raising to languish across his brow in tableau. “I’m magic, Maggie. I don’t need more.” A shift to balance on one foot, body hovering over one short stiletto, a free spin to face the endless rows of shelves. He made his way, slowly, Magnus in tow, fingers tripping over ancient tomes.
“We picked a dumb profession to avoid magic.” Magnus pulled a book free, slim and blue, calloused palm rasping against the linen covering. “Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.”
“If literature be the food of love, read on, read on. Find the fun story inside you somewhere.”
Magnus licked his thumb and flipped forward, papery whirring. “Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? and are there two? Is Death that woman’s mate?”
Taako rolled his shoulders back, two pops, and stretched his arms up above his head, wrists curling inwards and entwining. “I mean, Death is pretty fucking sexy.”
Magnus guided the book back to its shelf, tucked in snug between its neighbors, and resumed his idle trace of Taako’s movements down the aisles. One long-fingered hand stayed tethered to the shelf, covering Taako’s fingertips in dust and sending sprays of motes back to collect in Magnus’ hair.
“You’d think they’d use this place a little more.”
“Why’d you stop reading? You’ve got a voice for the stage, dog.”
Magnus pulled a book free, thick and yellow. “You’re bored, let’s have a competition. That’s always fun.” He slapped the cover, muted thwack, and held it out. “Who can do a more dramatic reading? Formal bet.”
“Well,” Taako rolled the word over his tongue, “We’ll need a formal judge. But it’s only fair you a taste of this bomb-diggity delivery.” He cleared his throat and took the book. “She would undress roughly, tearing the thin string of her corset, which would whistle around her hips like a slithering snake.”
His throat crackled as he coughed to clear it, mouth and eyebrows working sinuously too, alongside Emma. Magnus’ expression was somewhere between red-cheeked awkwardness and loud-laughing amusement.
“She would stand on the tips of her bare toes to see one more time that the door was locked, then drop all her clothes in a single motion;-- and pale, speechless, solemn, she would collapse against his chest with a long shudder.” Taako snapped the book shut and read the cover. “Madame Bovary. Cool choice, Monsieur Burnsides.”
“Gonna have to be a no from me, bud.” Magnus watched Taako decide not to make the exchange of the volume difficult. He handed it back, and Magnus slotted it into place.
Taako started walking again, Magnus in step. “I think Merle would love it. Put on a real show.” Magnus cracked the joints in his fingers, one at a time, thock, with his thumb. Taako ran the backs of his fingernails against the spines at thigh-level. “What about Lady Chatterley’s Lover?”
They left the library roughly matching stride and maintained it for about five feet. Taako sped up first. Nearly imperceptibly, walking just a little bit faster, increasing his steps in tiny increments. Magnus matched him. Taako sped up. Magnus matched him. Taako bolted, and because it’s nearly impossible not to chase someone who’s just started running, Magnus sprinted. Because it’s nearly impossibly giddily fun to race, yelling through tiny hallways, sliding across floors to take corners dangerously fast, Merle heard them coming. They found him in the dorms by smashing through the door. Because Magnus managed in the second before impact to lock both arms across Taako’s chest and lift him up off the floor, they entered fresh-as-hell wizard boots first.
Merle was sitting up on his bunk, magazine in hand. “What the damn dickens turned you two into speed racers?”
“Rousing game of tag.” Magnus put Taako down and adjusted his hat, pinching out an indent where it had collided with his head.
“We’re having a competition and we need you to declare me the winner.” Taako shook his head experimentally and found Magnus’ hat tending to be satisfactory.
Merle slid the magazine under his pillow and clapped both hands down on his knees. “What’s the winner get?”
“Undecided.”
“We’re going to read you sections of Lady Chatterly’s Lover and you’re going to tell us who’s more convincing as a housewife struck with ennui and a terrible crush.”
“Why’d you pick that, of all the books?” Merle’s face creased outward and he scrunched his nose up.
“We didn’t.” Merle moved Taako gently out of his way with a shoulder. “And we won’t.” Taako maneuvered around his bulk in the little space available and sat next to Merle. Magnus pinned him with a look. “We’re not doing any sexy books, dude.”
Taako raised his eyebrows, twice, deliberately. “You’ve read it?”
“It’s a classic! Not for lack of trying to suck ass, though. You couldn’t find an actually sexy book?”
Magnus wrapped two hands around the bunk rails above them and leaned in. “We’re not finding any sexy books.”
“You’re hurt you lost the race and couldn’t tell him the awesome plan first. I get it.” Taako shrugged.
“We could brawl this out.” Magnus tightened his grip, flexing, and grinned at Taako.
“Alright, kiddos, fists up, yadda yadda. I’d love to watch but it’s a little cramped for the ref. Whoever gets pinned first loses.” Merle stood, nose to Magnus’ sternum, and Magnus took a step back to let him pass. “Or, eh, find the previously mentioned actually sexy book and come back with your porn challenge thing.”
Taako snorted and looked between him and Magnus, face set in calculated excitement. “What yucks your yum, your man?” Magnus watched Taako watch Merle leave, laughing through his nose.
“This is what happens when you play with fire! Good, old-fashioned fisticuffs sounds great now, right?”
Taako narrowed his eyes, still smiling, hand pulling his body after it to spread out on the bed as it slipped under the pillow and caught the magazine. He stood up, contorting to avoid clipping the peak of his hat, and opened to the centerfold. “Heavy emphasis on the yuck.” A lovely, entirely non-perverse centerfold to a gardener or botanical enthusiast. The half of Magnus’ brain that wanted his arm to reach out and close the rag fought desperately with the half that insisted he see this through. Taako turned the page.
“’I know you’re furious. I’m furious too. You’re selfish, that’s what you are!’ The mass of vines recoiled as if he had struck it before leaping forward and curling itself, achingly tight, around his bare ankles. He tried to hold himself steady, to keep himself from swooning at the touch of the verdant tendrils. They’d negotiated this all before, many times. They each knew what the other wanted, was happy with, could withstand, but he’d never been so angry before. The vines pulsed, twisting slowly up his thighs, making for his belt. The pressure built. Every squeeze sent the blood through his veins harder, angrier, until he was sure he would burst with it. Even the leaves on his monstrous beloved were hot and sharp - he wanted to throttle it, and he wanted it to throttle him.”
Taako set the pornographic publication down before Magnus had to make a decision. “0/10, would not read again.”