Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The library was eerily quiet that day. Was it even day or was it night time? He couldn’t know. It could be day outside the library when its lights dimmed to simulate night. At ‘night’, tiny specks of floating light gently populated the library. Apparently, it was the closest thing to seeing the real night sky according to the books he had read in his spare time.

“What a pain…” Roland groaned, stretching his back and hearing those satisfying crackles.

An assistant librarian behind him chuckled. Her hair was blue and her features gentle and mischievous. Roland grinned. “What’s funny, Bongbong?”

“Why don’t you tell me, Dear Patron Librarian~?” Bongbong teased as she organized some books on the shelf. “I still don’t know why Angela made you floor leader.”

Roland chuckled, “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Pass. I’m not keen on being turned into a human popcorn machine.”

The pair shared a laugh before silently finishing their tasks for the ‘day’. It was a boringly monotonous life yet he couldn’t find any other faults in the current life he had. Compared to living in the City, being able to relax and not worry about being stabbed by some eldritch monster in an alleyway was a blessing. It was especially easier on him after the library had been teleported far into the outskirts.

He thinned his lips. The immortality the library granted him was both a blessing and a curse – in that he was faced with everlasting boredom yet lived to ensure Angelica’s memory would never disappear.

Roland hummed as he walked through the physics-defying towers of books and cartoonishly enormous bookshelves. Netzach rounded the corner, his face blushing furiously as he drooled and stumbled around. “Roland…” the Librarian of Art elegantly slurred. “...’anna drink…?”

He patted Netzach’s shoulder, the soft leather of his black gloves making a comforting thump against the librarian’s coat. “I’d love to but a certain lady is waiting for me.”

“Angela…?” Netzach frowned. Roland could see the cogs in his head turn before turning again in reverse. “Ah… Angela… I’ll remember you, brother.”

“Oi, oi. Don’t let Angela hear you. She might actually take that seriously and whack me on the head, y’know?”

“Don’t let me hear what?”

Netzach and Roland froze, both of them feeling their blood run cold. They glanced fearfully at each other. In the span of seconds, Netzach’s cheeks lost their blush and he muttered a coherent farewell to Roland before scurrying off into a hidden bar that the librarians under him had built. Roland turned around with a smile. He had fooled Angela with that smile for an extremely long time. Why wouldn’t it work now?

“H-Hey, Angela. What brings you here?” he greeted the head librarian.

“It’s my– our library. Why shouldn’t I be here?” Angela retorted.

Roland flinched. He racked his brain for excuses as he scratched the back of his head. “It’s rude for you to barge in unannounced and all. If you had told me, I would’ve prepared a red carpet and everything.”

Angela sighed, pinching her brows together in what he assumed was irritation. He ignored the short skip of his heart before smiling. “Now!” he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, once again ignoring how his heart raced a smidge faster. “What say we go find some food before we start on writing?”

She glared daggers at him but he was used to her icy demeanor. “You’ve already wasted my time making me wait for you.” she sighed. “Just grab some food and meet me in my room.”

He ignored how she subtly pressed herself closer to his side before silently leaving. How she tried to secretly sneak a sniff in when she shifted closer. How her ears were dusted a bright red when she left. It was nothing, Roland told himself and prayed it was nothing. A trick of the light, a delusion, a joke played on him by whatever deity or consciousness the library had. Anything that would convince him that it was nothing.

Roland took a deep breath. He had been saving some HamHamPangPang he had gotten from a wandering trader for this. He was going to finally finish his book and lay an end to the nothingness he was facing.

“God, fuck me.”

He stood outside Angela’s door; huffing and panting after he had climbed the unbelievably tall spiral stairs. Roland couldn’t blame her for having her bedroom be placed on the tallest floor of the library. What he could blame her for, though, was the fact she neglected to install elevators when they had the secrets to immortality and magic. He clicked his tongue at the thought.

Taking a moment to straighten his tie and fix himself up, he briefly pondered why he even bothered to write his life story. Roland shook his head, clearing away those somber thoughts, before knocking gently at her door.

A voice spoke from behind the door, “Come in.” she said.

Her room was tidy. Not even a speck of dust could be seen in the rays of light that shone from her window; where that light came from, he didn’t know. A single bed pushed to the corner of the room with the fluffiest duvet he had ever seen. Beside the bed was a table with pens, paper, and his book.

Angela glanced at him from under her duvet and gestured to the blindingly bright windows. Roland sighed and closed the curtains, plunging the room into an eerie darkness that was only broken by the gentle lantern light on Angela’s table.

“Y’know.” he coughed. “I always wondered why you preferred writing in the dark. Doesn’t it hurt your eyes?”

She emerged from her duvet, her hair messy and her clothes disheveled. Her coat was gone, leaving only the white tunic she had under it on. “Time flows differently for me. I would prefer putting less strain on my eyes if I could.” she explained.

“Ah, I get it.” he said as he dragged a chair to the table before seating himself on it. “So, it’s like eating the same sandwich over and over again.”

“I guess so…?”

His grunt of acknowledgement was all she received. Angela sat against the headboard of her bed. Her eyes lingered on his gloves. The way the leather rustled as he pulled himself to the table. How they gently held the pen she left for him to write with. Though Angela could not let a specific thought out of her head, its milliseconds of attention stretched into an eternity due to her circumstances. It was the thought of how those gloves almost killed her back then.

She forced her eyes away into the empty corner of her room. “Where did you stop last time?” she asked.

Roland thumbed the book’s pages sheepishly. “Uh…” he chuckled. “I have no idea?”

“You…” she sighed. “You stopped at your meeting with…”

“...Angelica.” Roland finished for her.

Angela scanned his face for signs of frustration, resentment, or anything she was scared to see. All she could notice was how Roland’s eyes glistened momentarily with sadness. “I’m sorry.” she said, giving her utmost hardest to fill her words with genuine feelings.

“It’s fine.” Roland gave her a strained smile. “I can’t go through with my revenge now. So, I might as well honor her through… this.” he gestured to the book in front of him.

She smiled back. Her shoulders felt significantly lighter after hearing those words. Still, she felt unsatisfied. “I promised to help you with both your books, didn’t I?” she reminded him. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” he said. “Now, how do I start?”

Angela tilted her head, “How did you two meet?”

Roland scratched his gloves, seemingly in thought. “She woke me up from a nightmare.” he mumbled. “I don’t remember what the nightmare was about. All I remember is feeling extremely relieved then alarmed at her waking me up. Apparently, she was scouted by the captain and joined shortly after that. I don’t know much else but that was the start of our relationship.”

“You have your start then.” she gestured to the pen in his hand. Roland smiled, then started writing. “How would you describe Angelica?”

“I was put off by her at first. I couldn’t believe how she handled everything we saw on the job so… casually. There was one time where we had been paired to investigate some cyborgs being mutilated here and there. She noticed I was extremely on edge and took the time to make fun of me. Can you believe it?”

Angela rested her cheek on her palm. Hearing how the man spoke of his deceased wife sent pangs of pain throughout her chest and she couldn’t fathom why. Yet, seeing Roland smile with such warmth and fondness that she sorely wished was directed solely at her. Roland wrote his thoughts with a passion that rivaled Malkuth whenever she found a new sweet recipe. “I could.” she replied.

“But, underneath all that, she was just like me. Seriously, I couldn’t believe how she took it all in stride. It was through her that I finally accepted the truth of the city; that I was better off accepting everything than fighting against it.” His words had a tang of bitterness to it. “It’s funny how, even now, she’s still teaching me how to live.”

Roland’s hand stopped and he looked at her. His eyes were tired yet filled with life. “I don’t think I can finish this chapter tonight.” he told her.

She nodded. “It is getting rather late.” she nestled herself a bit deeper into her duvet. “Shall we continue tomorrow?”

“No. Rather, would you let me share my memories of Angelica with you?”

His sudden proposal surprised her. Though, her surprise was unnoticeable thanks to her unique perception of time, allowing her to thankfully compose her thoughts faster than he could notice.
“I already know.” she answered back. “...thanks to the library.”

Roland let out a laugh. He smiled widely at the confused librarian. “Yes, but I’d want you to hear it from me when I’m not a murdery hobo.”

Angela giggled, “When are you not a murdery hobo?”

“Touché.” Roland grinned. He pushed off and stood, stretching his arms skyward as his back crackled and he sighed with relief. “I’ll spare you from my sappy stories for now. It is getting rather late.”

He packed his belongings: the book and pen Hod had given him as a gift. His fingers gingerly ran over the intricate patterns of the cover. Angela watched with a smile. She hugged her legs close to her chest, her duvet wrapped around her shoulders like it was a cocoon of her own.

He nodded, “I should go.” he murmured. “Goodnight, Angela.”

Roland made his way for the door, his footsteps heavy. Maybe it was because he didn’t yet feel the want to leave or maybe it was because his legs had gotten numb from sitting. Either way, he walked slowly. How couldn’t she notice how he ever so slightly dragged his feet or how his hand hesitated for a second as it hovered over the doorknob.

She couldn’t see his expression as he finally turned it open, “Goodnight again. Thank you for helping me.”

For some reason unknown to her, her artificial heart started to beat fiercely. She cursed in her head, letting impulse take over for the first time. “Roland?” she let slip out.

Her words, however faint she let it slip, reached him nonetheless. The door was still left ajar but he paused, one foot already out the room. “Yeah?”

“Do you think…” Blood rushed to her cheeks as she dug her face into her knees. Her voice was now muffled but she doubted he cared. “...I could ever find someone like how she was to you?”

How Angela wished she could cut down the silence that descended upon them. A momentary awkward silence to him was a lifetime to her. Yet, her millenia upon millenia of suffering had hardened her for moments such as these though she wished her beating heart would stop and her rushing thoughts to calm. Roland retracted his foot and turned to her with a wry grin.

“I’m sure at least one person in the library hopes to be with the immaculate, the perfect, the beautiful, the-”

Angela huffed, her ears crimson from his compliments, “Yes yes, I get your point. You can go now.”

Roland chuckled as he headed outside the door. The gentle click shut reassured her of her lonesome yet safe privacy. She sighed as she ruffled her hair. As much as her humanity was taken away when she returned the light to the city, at that very moment she wished her ‘human’ feelings were taken away too. Her feelings of need, affection, and guilt for hurting the person closest to her. She, in all her brilliance, couldn’t find out exactly what to do with them.

“...Why couldn’t that one person be you?”

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Chapter Text

Roland wasn’t the type for melancholy. His friends would describe him as more of a ‘destroy the entire city in a blind rage’ type of person. Still, it would be a rare day for him to mope around the library doing nothing but stare at whatever caught his fancy with one of Netzach’s bottles in hand. Indeed, it would be an extremely rare day.

“Are you… okay?” Hod asked with her iconic head tilt.

Roland looked up from his position between a wall of books. He’d stirred up quite a frenzy when Angela had found out he was missing from General Work’s morning roll call. It wasn’t quite right for their leader to be absent from his position of… leading them but Roland guessed one day wouldn’t hurt.

Obviously, Angela thought otherwise.

“Eh, better than ever.” he shrugged.

Her lips curled into an uncharacteristic frown. It was a rare sight for anyone in the library to see Hod frown. Usually, it was reserved for those she was the closest with; namely Malkuth and recently him. He grinned sheepishly, “I just decided to take the time and think about some things.”

“I see.” she raised a curious brow but declined to push further.

He swallowed his nervousness and smiled at her, “So, What brings you here to my little abode?” he motioned to the walls of books surrounding him.

“Well… Angela was asking around whether we knew where you were or not. I had some free time and thought I could try and find you.” She eyed the bottles of Netzach’s liquor at his side. “Am I intruding?”

Hod’s smile was dazzling. He was sure she had frustratingly wholesome intentions but could not find it within himself to turn her down. It stung but he knew that he wasn’t making it easier for himself either. He had his job to do before he could allow himself to wallow in his momentary sadness. “No. Let me just clean up.” he sighed.

To his surprise, Hod gently sat herself down beside him immediately. He stared at her dumbfounded and confused. Roland had somewhat expected her to walk him to Angela’s guaranteed dressing down. Instead, he was given the sight of Hod gingerly sipping a bottle he had half-finished with a slight blush dusting her cheeks.

He lifted his brow at her and her blush deepened. “I just wanted a sip…?” she mumbled as she clutched the bottle close to her.

“Feel free to have more.” Roland moved a stack over and revealed more bottles within. “Netzach and I hid these for… emergencies. Don’t tell Angela, by the way.”

Hod giggled and nodded. “You can trust me. After all, we all have our own secrets.”

“Some are just darker than others. Though, I suppose I don’t have anything I can hide from you guys.” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “You’ve already seen everything back when I went… batshit crazy.”

“You’ve suffered more than enough.” Hod responded as she looked down on the oak floor, playing with the tip of her bottle. “I think you deserve to rest now—With the library and with us.”

Roland bit his lip. He sighed before chugging a bottle in a single take, grimacing after he did so. The bitter aftertaste of the alcohol helped him ironically sober up from his thoughts. “What about everyone else in the City? Haven’t they suffered the same as me? The same as you?” he retorted. “I… guess that this is this and that is that. There’s nothing you or I could do about it.”

Silence grew between them. Roland mentally scoffed at Hod’s inability to answer but appreciated her courage and genuine willingness to listen. Only the gentle sound of glass landing on wood interrupted them. Unwilling to break the silence first, he settled on gazing at the falling pages of light filling the main hall of the floor of General Works. He could hear his librarians frantically searching for him in the background, all of them presumably afraid of facing a possibly pissed off Angela. He chuckled inwardly as he heard BongBong scream out his name in frustration, “ROLAND!” echoing out throughout the entire floor.

He raised the bottle and drank, the sting of alcohol reminding him of days past. He remembered then how he and Olivier would drink after every mission. Roland glanced at Hod, who looked to be silently thinking with the bottle tip resting gently on her lips.

Blue-grey eyes locked with his. Hod turned crimson, having caught the man staring straight at her. He could only grin at the girl’s embarrassment. “P-Please don’t stare at me.” she muttered, turning her face away from the chuckling man.

Roland ruffled Hod’s hair as he chuckled. “You’re a precious lil thing, ain’tcha?” he teased.

Hod harrumphed, “I’m not that young! I’m 21!” she retorted.

“You and Tiph are literally the two youngest members of the Library.” He answered back. “Compared to us oldies, ya’ll are kids.”

Silence fell between the two. The two occasionally sipped from their bottles as both of them pondered on what words to say to the other. Roland sighed, “I’m sorry. Kid or not, you still suffered too much shit.”

“It’s fine.” her smile was feeble, as if it was somewhat forced. “The past is the past. Now, all we can do is hope to be a better person.”

The words were lost upon him. He never was the type to think deeper than what was on the surface. His fingers traced the stitching of his gloves — of Angelica’s gloves. Could his gloves, perhaps the bloodiest gloves that could ever exist, actually have the potential to be… better?

“Hey,” his words were weak, barely a gasp. “Do you think I’ve become better?”

She fidgeted with the ribbon on her chest. A few seconds passed as she tried to find what to say to her friend. “...do you think you’ve become better?” she asked.

“Probably.” he answered. “It’s not like there’s a metric or measurement I could use is there? I think the only verifiable metrics I could use is you and the others.”

“I agree.” she took a swig, much bigger than the last, and let out a relieved sigh. “It’s why I did so much, made so much mistakes, and exhausted myself trying to atone for my betrayal. I couldn’t live with myself, even if I told myself that I’ve done enough. Taking Enkephalin only made it worse.”

Her laugh was hollow; a rarity to see from her. Roland couldn’t know of what had happened in L Corp. Only bits and pieces from what the other librarians had told him. He knew of her betrayal but never the entirety of it. “Do you think you’ve become better, Hod?” he asked.

She glanced at him, “A little. I’d like to believe that I’ve become better just a little.”

“I see.”

She placed her empty bottle at the side, nestled between two books and hidden away from the alcohol inquisition. “You know…”

Hod stood up and dusted her skirt off. From the dim glow of the falling pages, Roland could barely see the slight blush on her cheeks — he’d wager she was tipsy at the very least. She turned and smiled at him, the iridescent glow of the library encapsulating her with an angelic aura. Her hand reached out to him. “...you’re always welcome to join our book club.” she giggled.

He chugged the remains of his bottle; making sure to discreetly stash away the remaining liquor. Hod’s hand was soft and smaller than his. Her dexterous fingers evident by the way she pulled him to his feet. She was a hidden danger; fitting for the master of attrition through bleeding. “Ugh.” he groaned as the bones that made up his back ached. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m glad.”

Roland’s lips curved into a smile, “I almost forgot to thank you for the book. Angela wanted me to say thank you to you too, I don’t know why though.”

The two shared a chuckle as they stepped out from Roland’s alcove. Of course, they made sure no wandering eyes coincidentally saw them lest they run the risk of salacious rumors or Netzach’s liquor being found. Soon, they found themselves at an intersection: the path to the left leading to the Floor of Literature whilst the path to the right led deeper into Roland’s jurisdiction.

“Feel free to visit me if you need someone to talk to, okay?” Hod beamed with her ever so bright eyes. “I’ll have tea or coffee prepared for us.”

“It’ll depend on whether Binah or Chesed is on the floor with us.” he grinned. Both of them knew better than to drink coffee with an irritated Binah. The entire library had heard of the pair’s conflict; especially the incident where the coffee enthusiast found himself dodging tea kettles left and right.

Hod turned to leave but was interrupted by the man, “Oh hey.” Roland called out. “I gotta ask.”

“Hm?” she tilted her head.

“Is someone in the library like…” he paused, trying to find the words he would use. “...like I don’t know… in love with Angela or something?”

Her greyish eyes widened and her lips split into a cheshire grin. Roland could feel the tip of his ears warm up. He looked away; unable to bear with the brunette’s teasing gaze. Hod hummed thoughtfully — though whether it was in genuine thought or of her mocking him, he would not know.

Roland loosened his collar and cleared his throat. “S-So, is there?”

“I’m not sure…” she said in a sing-song voice. “Is there~?”

He coughed into his gloves. “I’m asking you here.” he said matter-of-factly.
Hod shrugged; a little bit too eagerly Roland would say. “I could ask the others?”

“Please do.”

It wasn’t long till rumors of a potential romance between Head Librarians had sprung up throughout the denizens of the various floors. Apparently, the book club of the Floor of Literature had gushed and taken to written romantic fanfiction between the two suspects. The others either wouldn’t know or barely cared as is the case with the Floor of Philosophy’s head. Neither did Angela know out of everyone’s fear of turning into some cursed popcorn machine.

But that was a tale for the future.

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Chapter Text

To the outside eye, the library was a creepy yet beautiful place to behold. Each floor was an experience of its own. From the General Works’ rustic atmosphere to Philosophy’s unparalleled beauty, the towering library could rival an entire district or two in terms of scenery. In fact, it was a common sight to see an assistant from an entirely different floor relax and mingle in other areas of the library.

Every month, the library held a draw. Whoever drew the short stick would have to host a gathering for anyone who was interested. As luck would have it, the Floor of Religion had won the right to host the first ever Library Get-Together. It was also unfortunate for the assistants of Religion that it had been the longest time since they have had new guests, leading to a rise of boredom within the inhabitants of the library.

The stark contrast of the assistant’s colored uniforms against the monochrome theme of the Floor of Religion personally hurt Roland’s eyes. It annoyed him so much that he decided to try and find a place he could sit down and relax in, not having much of a mood to mingle with the assistants.

“Why’d you get into crossdressing anyway?”

“Shh! Keep it down! He might hear!”

Roland’s brows furrowed as he slipped through the crowd. He could see assistants from each and every floor inside the chaos. They happily chatted with one another, some even overly exaggerated in their motions. He smoothly dodged an errant hand, the owner of said hand failing to notice him at all. Roland couldn’t blame them. It was what he was good at.

He winced as a rogue tea kettle hit an innocent assistant. Roland could hear Chesed cackling in the far distance and the footsteps of the assistants that hurried away from the heads of Philosophy and Social Sciences. Distracted by the commotion, he failed to dodge the shoulder heading towards the source of the scene. “Oof. Sorry, Yesod.” Roland apologized.

“I’m fine. I should be sorry too.” Yesod nodded, massaging his shoulder. “Have you been well, Roland?”

Roland’s lips curled into a smile, “Never better. I shouldn’t keep you here though.”

At that moment, another stray tea kettle found its mark on Yesod’s forehead, knocking the man unconscious on the ground. Roland grimaced and moved to help but decided otherwise as Yesod’s assistants had begun to swiftly carry their leader to safety. He did notice the group of drunken Art assistants and Netzach burst into hysterical laughter. Roland would have joined them but he was already in trouble with Angela. He would later admit to having chuckled though.

A break in the noise and crowd at last—finally, he could breathe. There were less people here. Instead of the hysteria between the assistants of the lower floors of the library, he found himself between the assistants of Religion who often preferred to keep to themselves.

“I’ve heard you’ve started exploring literature.”

Hokma gave him a small smile, one which he reciprocated. The man’s monocle twinkled with wisdom far beyond humanity. Roland wouldn’t admit it but he considered the man’s fashion to be among the best between the Head Librarians. “While it is unexpected, I cannot say it is unwelcome to witness you dabble in self-improvement.”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Roland shrugged. “Angela’s been helping me with writing down everything too.”

“Is that so?” Hokma eyed him with interest—and just a hint of mirth.

Roland coughed into his gloves, “It is so.”

The older man chuckled and left with a gesture to follow him deeper into a hidden hallway. Their steps were muffled by the soft carpet. It wasn’t long until the chatter from the gathering grew quieter and quieter until it was gone entirely. In front of them; a door of ivory wood. A twist of the knob and a simple sitting room was revealed. Tall shelves of dark oak stood in contrast with the white walls and furniture.

“Welcome. Please feel free to make yourself comfortable.” Hokma smiled. He led them deeper inside and Roland couldn’t help but feel absorbed into the monochrome world of the Patron of Religion. “Would you like some refreshments?”

He nodded, “I’d be fine with some water.”

Hokma hummed as he took to his guest. It wasn’t long until Hokma prepared for him a glass of water, some pastries, and a cup of tea for himself. They descended into silence as they partook in each other’s wordless company. The older man peeked at the silent Roland who inspected the room with mock interest, “You have something to say.”

Roland jumped in his seat before scratching his head sheepishly, “Doesn’t everyone always have something to say?”

“Perhaps.” Hokma raised a brow. “Though the question is not whether you think it, but whether you’ll say it.”

“Am I really that obvious?”

He chuckled, “You’ve let down much of your guard here, Roland. Though I’m glad that you did.”

Roland shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The man reminded him of Salvador — wise, witty, and insightful. He wondered whether or not he should actually ask the man. Of all the Patron Librarians he interacted with, Hokma was the one he hung out with the least, seeing as the older man often preferred staying on the higher floors of the Library. That and the fact that there wasn’t much for them to bond over; Chesed often invited him for coffee tasting and Binah frequently drifted into other floors when she was bored.

Still, they were peers. Peers that fought, bled, and nearly died together. That had to count as bonding right?

“Is it about Angela?”

Roland froze. Words ran through his head but not a single one found its way out through his lips. Hokma gave him a gentle smile. “I admit. This is quite an interesting predicament.”

“Jeez. No need to tease me over it, man.” Roland sighed, his ears tinged crimson red. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“Angela is a lonely person.” Hokma started. “We, Sephiroth, glimpsed a fraction of her pain when the light was first released. After knowing that she was the cause of the Dark Days, do you sympathize with her, Roland?”

“I… I’ve long made my peace with it.” He admitted as he looked down into the palms of his gloves. “All of us suffered through our own hell in this city. The pain… the despair… the anguish that I went through when I lost Angelica… I lashed out at the world and so did Angela.”

Hokma closed his eyes, seemingly in thought as he sipped on his tea. He let out a satisfied exhale. “And you’ve both been made better for it.”

Roland leaned into the fluffy black cushion. He tilted his head backwards, his vision now pointed upwards. “I sure do hope so.” He murmured.

“The impetus for change lies in the birth of emotion. Anger, madness, happiness, love. These are all catalysts of change.” The older man continued. “Yet, the outcome remains completely within the control of one’s self. Love both saved and ruined you. Now, it changes you yet again.”

Roland’s head slowly craned downwards, his gaze unbelieving on whether or not he had just heard what the older man had just said. His brows furrowed in disbelief and confusion. Hokma sat relaxed in his armchair as he enjoyed a cream pastry probably made by one of his librarians. “You are confused.” Hokma stated, entirely unfazed by the pastry crumbs clinging to his chin.

“I don’t love her.” he shook his head. “I can’t—”

Hokma bit into another pastry, the crunch echoing throughout the room. Roland could only stare in disbelief as he swallowed. “Love exists in many forms, no? I hold no doubts that you have grown to love the Library and its denizens yet I would argue that not one of them you see in a romantic light unless…?”

Silence was Roland’s reply. “Your self-improvement is slow but steady.” Hokma continued. “As has everyone else’s ever since we were exiled into the outskirts; ever since everyone found the time to unwind and find themselves again.”

The older man slowly rose to his feet, his amused yet gentle gaze locked with Roland’s wary and befuddled one. Without a word, Hokma moved towards the exit, his companion now standing up to catch up to the man. He opened the door and looked at Roland one last time.

He smiled, “As for your question, try taking the time to unwind along with Angela.” he said as he stepped through the door and left Roland all to his lonesome.

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