It is hard to believe that a person who is only aged a mere millennium could ever have seen what humanity truly has to offer. Humanity is seductive in her cruelty, swinging her hips side to side with offers of belonging, comfort, and love. Yet just as quick as affection comes, she is merciless in her slaughter. Humanity saves just as many children as she abandoned, heals just as many as she kills, and compromises just as often as she dictates. Philosophy is lost upon a man that has spanned a thousand lonely years.

The one clutched and struck amongst a savage peaceful people by his own bitter humanity. His pride and horror, his horror and pride. Philosophy is primarily targeted to the meager lives of mortals, a way for them to express a sympathetic optimism or a pitiable pessimism. When not torn apart by war, they are ravished by famine. When not devoured by famine, they are made wearied by tax. To not be exhausted by tax, a familiar revolution spins its dreadful wheels. Another cycle of war, another round of death. A great summation that excludes the many other causes of useless battle; pride, land, money, greed, women, murder, fun–needless to say the list continues onward.

Perhaps if people new the blood-bathed history of the world, glanced at the scarlet-inked pages of hand written journeys, they would no better than to push for war. Perhaps if society evolved, grew, and learned, perhaps picking up a book or two along the way, people would know to shy away from war and all that nonsense it brings. Perhaps some simple leather-bound paper would teach people the value of words over the many well-used blood-rusted blades and smoking, fleshy guns.

If only the first love of humanity had been a book. Perhaps more fingers would have been combed ever so gently along the spines, eyes eager and excited for the searched title. Pages would be preserved and treasured rather than stomped upon and burned. Libraries replacing brothels and bars; there is more filling to feed the mind than lust and gluttony. Rather than booze and unknown perfumes the familiar library musk would become common place. Street kids and orphans practically kidnapped by schools instead of cults, factories, or houses of ill repute. Author politicians. Novelist rulers. Philosopher religious leaders. Such a lovely dream.

Ah, the wonders and all-consuming despair surrounding the thoughts of something that could never–would never–be.

Rather, dear seductive humanity, sway your bare bones far away and allow for dreams of people on paper. People in ink. Let such hopeful wishes grow despondent as more is learned. Allow for the portraits of such ugly people to be viewed by children with eyes too large and hearts too open. Please allow such tired eyes to close and fantasize a more gentle humanity. A rest to last a millennium, to avoid the pain of such idiotic brethren. Release the one whose called himself many names, the one you've enjoyed showing so much. Cruelty is just as malicious another day. Yet no release is made, humanity chuckles in the shadows as poor dreams become a tool of bitter irony.

To the little, little, tiny, tiny Bookman. The one who plays with paper and ink, knowledge and secrets, masks and truth, a task sure to be enjoyed.

Sluuuuuuuuuurp

"Have you found it yet." Komui whined.

Lavi felt his heckles rise at that singular comment. Currently the young secretive historian was waste deep in a pile of random reports, research, and–was that just a porno? Lavi's eye twitched slightly, a noticeable lack of control quite unbecoming of a young apprentice of this degree. Manage your emotions, don't become your next name, don't eat yakiniku over important documents, blah, blah, blah. He was a freaking Bookman's apprentice not some underpaid secretary. The Japanese kid next to him (Kanda Yuu, was it?) seem to have a similar thought process. Well, going of the aura of darkness and death that was currently radiating off him in waves.

"Che…" He growled.

Lavi narrowed his eyes at the irritable girly-boy. He looked fun to mess with. An annoying tease would work nicely with his persona as Lavi. He swung an arm over the boy.

"Calm down Yuu-chan!" He smiled goofily, "I'm sure will find the letter soon!"

Glaring silver eyes turned towards him. If possible, the narrowed farther.

"What did you just ca–"

The poor boy didn't even get a chance to finish as Alma burst out from a pile of various probably important documents.

"I found it!" He shouted gleefully, waving a crushed, muddy, yellow, moldy envelope in the air much like one would a particularly large sum of money.

Lenalee was the only one to contribute to the young boy's enthusiasm. Kanda seemed to be debating whether stabbing the Chief or the red-headed idiot. Both was possible, but only one didn't come with an enraged kick-happy little sister. Lavi was quite busy reminding himself that Komui was actually quite a genius when it came to both leadership and his own sciences rather than the bumbling sis-con he portrayed himself to be. One of the youngest chiefs of the Black Order. His tomfoolery had to be some sort of elaborate act, right? Komui took another long sip of coffee before snatching the letter from the overly energetic Alma Karma.

"Let's see…" He muttered to himself as he tore opened the letter.

Quite honestly, and well… secretly, Lavi was rather excited about the newest mission the old Panda had assigned him. Listen in on a report by the Black Order's infamous Cross Marian, the only exorcists not to make monthly reports. One of the strongest and most widely known General's both within the Order and without. A man surrounded by secrets and mystery that even had the old man frustrated. While Komui pulled out the letter Lavi sat on the edge of his seat.

"Komui," The chief began, "I have sent along my apprentice Allen. If he hasn't arrived by March, he probably got lost. His eyesight is poor and his left side has limited mobility. If he could 'accidentally' suffer a fatal injury, that would be nice. – Cross"

Both Alma and Lavi stared in horror at the letter while Kanda just made his standard grunt and left. Komui appeared to be rather indifferent, going back to his coffee. Lenalee just smiled.

"It's good to see Cross' improvement towards being a better human being." She nodded to herself.

Alma's head snapped towards her.

Komui nodded: "I was wondering when he was finally going to pick up an apprentice."

Lenalee skipped towards the exit. Alma appeared to snap out of whatever mental funk he had worked himself into.

"It will be nice to have another exorcist around!" Alma agreed excitedly, racing after Lenalee.

Komui nodded and watched with a small smile as the two kids ran off. Despite being a despicable octopus, it was nice to see Lenalee making friends. Turning his attention to the confused young Bookman, he tried to withhold his giggles.

"By March…" He muttered, curious green eyes turned toward Komui, "Isn't it May?"

Komui's chuckles stopped.

Sluuuuuuuuuurp

"I'll send someone to find him immediately…"

… … …

It was such a lovely day. People were bustling place to place, a smooth, almost musical chatter was alit in the air, and not a cloud could be seen in the sky. Allen tucked his arms beneath his head and released a lengthy yawn. It was such a pretty town. Clean buildings, well-kept streets, not a seedy mentor in sight… Ah, blissful peace.

Now…

The only thing that could make the scenery even more perfect.

Would be…

If he knew where the hell he was.

Author's Note:

I meant to write this after dinner, but for the first time in my entire life, I beat my Dad at Scrabble. 284 to 191. I savor the sweet taste of victory. I would've made this longer, but I'm tired.