Work Text:
The library is quiet. It is always quiet, it is, after all, a library. Today there is only one dreamer in the library. A scribe who has found the perfect text that ties together two newer texts that are only connected in theory. He is transcribing as much of it as he can in order to show his master. Too bad he will not remember it in the morning.
There is another being in the library: Lucienne, the librarian. She is deep in the library, placing a new book on the shelf. New books are always appearing in the library as they are thought of or dreamed. Her job never ends.
The two of them are miles apart. Neither able to see nor hear the other. But Lucienne is aware of the scribes presence. As she is aware of everything that happens within the walls of her library. Lucienne places the book of poems in its rightful spot, straightens up, and gives her vest a small tug to readjust it. If she wished it all new books would find their way to the correct place on their own. But she does not wish it. There is something about seeing the new books as they came in and placing them on the shelves that she cannot put into words. On the way back to her desk she straightens shelves that have become disarrayed from use. Her hands brush along the spines of the books with a tender care that all librarians feel for their charges.
Lucienne pauses for a second before continuing along her way. There is a visitor in the library. Her path has changed slightly, she is no longer heading towards her desk. Perhaps there is a small smile on her lips or a slight spring to her step that was not there before. It has been a long time since the library has received a visitor like this. Still she takes her time as she moves through the shelves, she likes to give visitors a moment alone in the library. She rounds a corner and there is Death.
She stands with her back to Lucienne reading the very last page of a book. Her black doric chiton reaches to her ankles, her only adornment a silver ankh that hangs around her neck. She does not look up when Lucienne comes close. The librarian, not wishing to disturb her, stands with her hands behind her back and waits. A moment passes and Death, finishing the paragraph, looks up from the book.
“Hello, Lucienne,” She says with a bright smile.
“Lady Death, welcome to the Dreaming,” Lucienne says, returning the smile and inclining her head. “I shall fetch Lord Morpheus.”
“Lucienne,” Death says, gently stopping the librarian before she can rush off, “I am here with my brother’s permission. He knows that I have come to see you.”
“Oh,” Lucienne says, taken aback that Death would come all this way just to see her. “It’s an honor to have you visit the library, Lady Death. How can I be of service?”
“I was hoping that I might borrow a book,” Death says holding up the book in her hands. “How does this one end?”
“That one has a rather sad ending, I’m afraid,” Lucienne replies. Death closes the book and replaces is on the shelf without comment.
“Do you have any recommendations?”
“What kind of books do you like?” Lucienne asks. She is already forming a list of recommendations in her head.
“Anything with a happy ending,” Death says.
“I’ve got one I think you’ll like,” Lucienne says. “If you’ll follow me, Lady Death?”
“Lead the way.”
They walk through the rows of books. Lucienne pointing out the different sections as they go like a proud mother showing off her children’s art work. Death trails slightly behind her taking it all in. As they travel the Dreamer wakes, they are both aware of his departure, leaving them alone in the library. Still they walk on. They go up a flight of steps and down another finding themselves in a completely different part of the library. The books here are older and they are not the Dream Journals that make up most of the other wings. These are the unwritten.
Lucienne adjusts her glasses and starts paying more attention to the books on the shelves. She knows all the titles by heart and the locations of every book but still she slows down and reads each one as they go. Soon she begins to run her finger along the spines, slowing down even further.
“Ah, here it is,” She says pulling a book down off the shelf and passing it over to Death. Death takes the book in her hands and there is a moment, before Lucienne lets go, when they both hold it together. Death smiles up into Lucienne’s eyes, the librarian clears her throat and her hands drop from the book.
“This is one of my favorites,” Lucienne tells her, “the author, unfortunately, never learned to read or write. So it only exists here. It’s the stories she would tell the child under her care. The main character is based on the master of the house she worked in who in the waking world was rather insufferable…” Death smiles at her, listening intently to every word she says. Lucienne meets her eyes and trails off. “Though I should let you read it before boring you with background information.”
Death looks down at the book and runs her finger along the embossed gold lettering that forms the authors name. “I remember this women,” she says gently. Then, shaking her head and coming back to the present, she hugs the book to her and says:
“Thank you, Lucienne. I'm sure I'll love it. I’ll return it when I’m done, and most likely pick up another one.”
“As you wish, milady,” Lucienne says with a small incline of her head. When she straightens back up Death is gone and she is alone. She stands for a moment in the quiet of the library.