Right, so this is an idea that's been gnawing at me and I thought I'd finally get it off my chest and actually type it up. So yeah, here it is.
Let me know if there's anything innacurate about a few of the things I represent, considering some of the topics I plan to use, it be more than a help.
(-)
The death of a book is a subtle tragedy, its mute collapse a mixed sight of beauty and unfortunate release.
It starts off fairly unnoticed, the light yellow age that spreads across the pages. It's all right, the reader thinks to themselves, it just means the book's gaining character. I'll listen to these pages crinkle under my fingertips and think back to all the memories I shared with this book.
Things start getting dramatic fairly quickly.
Oh dear, the reader thinks, it seems a page has fallen out. Not to worry, I'll just slip it back in, nothing lost, nothing gained, right? Huh, there's another page, perhaps I should find someone who could work out this problem.
And soon it begins to snowball from there. Perhaps the corners are beginning to fray, or the dustcover has been lost. Either way, eventually the page loss rate soon begins to increase, they begin to tumble from the spine like the silent plight of cherry blossoms, except yellow and typed on.
This isn't supposed to happen, the reader exclaims, still unable to grasp the ideas before them. It's a book. You never lose a good book.
But alas, the metamorphosis is complete, what was once a proud and sharp book. Ready to take your hand and thrust you into worlds yet conceived. Is now a small heap of not yet, but almost, toilet paper and an empty book spine.
It is a tragic death, but in death there can always be found a new life.
The girl sat in silence as she rubbed her thumb over the cover. She saw the signs, she knew it wouldn't last as long as she'd hoped. But it was still hard to cope with.
It was even worse that'd she'd only gotten through half of it before it fell apart.
She closed the book for one last time and nodded to herself, this would not be a day of sadness. Rather, it would be the next step to something better.
If only the girl knew what powers stood behind such words, what possibilities would thread themselves into the fabric of her Destiny.
She probably wouldn't have stopped at asking for a new book.
Oxford was a college student, he was at the top of his classes, he had everything in his life planned, and he knew exactly how to reach those plans.
This of course, is the exact combination of life goals that end with the college student working in retail because he found himself in a heard of creatures known as the "overqualified."
Today was a slow day, he was thankful for that, the customers he usual had to deal with were…he guessed he had to call them human because they stood upright and were able to speak (usual in complaints at him about something he was unable to control). He assumed it probably had something to do with the local Fantasy Club seizing this place as their base of operations.
Even now he could hear their squabbles echoing from the floors above:
You used your standard action getting up, you can't attack anything else! Stop being such a freaking whiner and just let someone else take their turn already!
C'mon, what if I have something to do that's story related?
Kid's right, dude, just let someone else take the kill.
Like hell I will! If there's any wizard out there who thinks they can soil a dwarven dynasty as great as The Anhkalbytrs then they obviously haven't met one yet!
Not even the Fantasy Club can get anything done when the Fantasy Club's around.
He was starting to weigh the consequences of leaving the bookstore unattended so he could try and work up the nerve to see that girl at the CD store again when he heard the familiar "ding!" of the front door open.
"Um, excuse me?" A tentative female voice asked as footsteps ambled around the shelves. "Is the store open? I didn't see any lights on, but the door was unlocked so…"
"Over here!" Oxford said, trying to wave the girl over from his spot.
"Sorry about this." He continued as he heard the footsteps getting closer. "I try to keep everything tidy, but nobody who visits seems to understand what a wonderful invention the shelf is."
He heard one of the columns of stacked books tumble as the girl tried to cut through the Religious section.
"Sorry!" The girl squeaked after the ensuing avalanche.
"Don't worry about it," Oxford said. "I needed something to do anyway. Here, let me see if I can help. Do you see the employees only door?"
"Uh huh."
"Okay, take a left from there and make another left when you hit the Politics section."
He heard the sound of her footsteps flux in and out of hearing as she took his directions.
"I'm here!" The girl said. "Now what?"
"Okay, now you'll take a right from the Cooking section, go through it and turn left, and then keep going."
After a few more minutes of this, the footsteps were finally close enough that he could guess she was up at the front.
"Do you see me?" He called out.
"It's kind of hard to miss the gleam." She replied.
Oxford rubbed at his bald head protectively.
Finally the girl met him at the front desk. Her emerald eyes scrutinizing each shelf she passed as her boots clomped on the floorboards.
Oxford knew that look, he'd seen it many times before, even on himself.
"Having trouble finding what you're looking for?"
The girl turned to face him, he long, blonde, hair echoing her motions as it brushed past.
Oxford made sure he kept eye contact. He knew even the slightest of gestures towards her right arm would make her defensive.
"Yeah," she said, fidgeting with her elbow nervously. "I'm looking for a specific book, I've checked the libraries and major bookstores but it hasn't turned up."
Oxford smiled as he pushed at his glasses and turned to an ancient looking computer. "Let me see if it's on the site. Do you have the name?"
The girl nodded and pulled a note from her left pocket.
Oxford took the note, not only did it have the title. It also had the author's name, the publisher even the first edition's date of release!
"This is a pleasant surprise." He said as he typed the information into the search box. "Usually when someone's looking for a specific title, they come up here and start going on about how they don't know the title, but they know what it was about. I'm guessing this book means a lot to you if you were willing to come here."
The girl nodded. "My mama bought it for my tenth birthday, I finished it that night and haven't looked back since."
Oxford chuckled. "We get quite a few stories like that here…let's see…Ah! It looks like we have a copy in the back."
The girl perked up. "Really?"
"Yeah, no wonder you had such trouble finding it, it says here the book was discontinued over a decade ago." Oxford started to stand up. "Hold on, I have to hold the fort down here so I'll get one of the other guys to help you find it." As Oxford said this, he began heading for the stairs behind the counter, leaving the girl alone as he went to search. After a minute or so she heard muffled voices from above.
Hey, we've got a customer, one of you get off your lazy asses and go help her.
Can't you see we're busy Ox?
I can see you're busy not being a help to anyone in the party besides yourself.
Hey! I've got a strategy, I just need to work out a few kinks!
Mhhm, does that strategy involve you failing your saving throw twice?
Shut up, Ox!
Do you want to get paid today or not?
Maka heard the start of an argument before it immediately deflated into mumbling as two sets of footsteps came back down. Oxford came back, and brought with him the buffest teenager she had ever seen. Maka had to hold her hand over her mouth when an uncharacteristically squeaky voice came from the neon-haired teen.
"So what do you need me to do?" He asked.
Oxford handed him a slip of paper. "Go to this section and get this book for our friend-" Oxford paused as he realized the girl had never given her name to him.
"Maka." She added helpfully.
"Right, and don't climb the shelves this time." He added. "People still ask about footprints on the spines.
The boy shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly and leapt over the desk like a pommel horse. As he passed her, Maka noticed that his nametag and been crossed out heavily and replaced with:
BLACK*STAR
In thick, black marker.
"Don't do that either!" Oxford sputtered, obviously impressed at the passive way Black*Star performed the move despite trying to hide it.
Black*Star shrugged again.
Oxford motioned for Maka. "Would you mind following him?" He asked. "Black*Star tends to get distracted when he doesn't constantly have someone breathing down his neck."
Maka nodded and ran off after him.
Deep within the recesses of the store, Maka tried her best to not be disoriented by the criss-crossing directions Black*Star had her take.
"We're not going to get lost out here are we?" She asked after what felt like the third lap past the restrooms.
"I've never gotten lost. There was this one guy who came while I had register duty, though."
"What happened to him?"
"Dunno, maybe he died in here."
Maka gave Black*Star a shove which earned her a smirk from him.
"Didn't expect you to be scared so easily."
"That wasn't scary, it was just stupid."
Black*Star gave another shrug and turned to face one of the shelves, giving Oxford's note a quick glance.
"I think this is it, I don't see the latter anywhere. You mind giving me a hand?"
Maka shrugged and obliged.
"Here, don't see what good it will do you without me on the other end, though."
Soul's head snapped to attention.
"Did you guy's hear that?" He said, looking to his surrounding tablemates.
Kid looked up from his place behind the DM curtain. "Hear what?"
Soul cocked his head to one side. "It was sort of like a really heavy thud, I think something might've fallen downstairs.
Kid rolled his eyes. "Black*Star's helping the customer, right? I'm surprised you didn't hear anything like that sooner."
"Yeah…anyway, where was I?"
He let the dice between his palms fly.
"Ha! Crit."
Kid looked at the two digits staring back at him and started nibbled at the tip of his eraser in disgust before he realized what he'd been doing and nibbled the other side to even it out.
"…*Star? Hey wake up. I was kidding."
Black*Star groaned as he pulled himself up from the pile of books he'd collapsed into, only to almost stumble back into them when he realized that Maka still had her right arm in her left hand.
Maka placed the prosthetic back in its socket before posing in to her hip, doing the same with her real arm.
"Didn't expect you to be scared so easily." She parroted, nimbly dodging the paperback Black*Star threw.
"That's just stupid!" He exclaimed, he was about to ready another book at her when he stopped, there was a gleam in his eye as he turned to face her.
"Do you want to join our club?"
Maka cocked her head warily. "What club?"
"The Fantasy Club, we have it upstairs every Sunday." He said as he started scaling the shelf for Maka's book. "We mostly play games and stuff like that, but if there's a convention or tournament in town we all try to meet up for that, too. We've been looking for a new member ever since Kilik left for a college out of state."
"Why are you asking me to join all of a sudden?" She said, rearranging her fake arm to a more lax position.
"Because I liked the way you messed with me." He was near the top now, almost yelling. "Using your fake arm as a portable prank? I wish more cripples would think like that."
Maka, hung her head at the mention of that word. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I used to do stuff like that to my papa whenever he made me mad."
"INCOMING!"
Maka heard the air whistle as the book dropped from wherever Black*Star had pulled it from. She caught it just before it hit the ground.
"Nice catch." Black*Star said as he landed on his feet. "So what do you say? Are you in?"
Maka looked at the hand Black*Star had put out for her, double checking to make sure he'd put out one she could shake.
"Let me think about it."
Black*Star nodded and they both started to head back for the register.
"I think you should do it."
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
Blair shrugged as her roommate massaged at the stump where her arm ended.
"You really need something to do besides stick your nose in a book and hang out with Tsubaki. I'm sure the other members aren't as much of an ass as that blue-haired kid you were talking about."
"I guess, but I want a little more time alone with Tsubaki. I think I'm almost ready to tell her."
Blair smiled sympathetically and hugged Maka.
"I'm proud that you're able to say that, but what do you think you'll do after you've finally confessed?" She motioned for Maka to turn so she could start helping her undress. "I mean, whatever goes down. There's still going to be points afterwards where you won't have anything to do, right?"
Maka didn't reply.
Blair started attacking at her roommate's tangled hair. "You're still going to have to work at whatever comes next, things don't just show up at your front doorstop you know."
Again, no answer.
"Is this how your mother would want you to act right now?"
She knew as soon as the words left her mouth that she'd gone too far.
"Don't ever use my mother as blackmail." Maka said darkly, looking down to the girl she'd just shoved off her bed. She held up her right arm. "And don't ever say I've never worked for something."
Blair stood up. "Fine." She conceded; there wasn't anything else she could say that wouldn't make it worse. "But I still think you should consider that kid's offer."
Maka looked to her friend and smirked. "I did." She said.
"I'm joining."