"[color=#2980B9 ]The audacity of this place...[/color]"
I stepped forward unto the 4th floor platform, which to the right immediately opened to the library, and to the left led to the next flight of stairs. The white marble appeared to me marvelous; it was evident the delicacy taken to sculpt each slab, perfectly fitted without gaps between them, each step seeming to flow into the next. What was more, the dusky veins which ran through the marble were all in line, running as it seemed toward the floor entrance. Along with the lack of seams, this gave the illusion that the room was carved into the stone, rather than constructed of. In the corners which faced the stairs sat antique lanterns on charcoal dishes, which held weak flames protected from draft by a tan screen; a placating auburn radiated from the lamps, casting over the clean white stone a dim glow, which had the effect of making it seem ancient and preserved. Early on I had wondered of the necessity of such screens, but my many ascents and descents of the different towers of the Bibliotheca Conscientiae had made me aware that there was most definitely air conditioning. Not even the chilly winds found climbing the northern alps kept a man this free of sweat.
Above the entrance way read 'K-G', which were the sections to be found there. Unsure, as a flight of stairs will leave one foggy minded, I peeled open the pamphlet I had brought and referred to the first page's directory. Though originally I had settled on visiting section P, a sense of genius and proceeding ignorance had led me all the way to the West Wing, which was spurred only by the feeling that 'this was the right way'. It was much too late by time I found the pamphlet, for I was so lost I had already seceded my life to living here.
Assuming that the schema would continue as it had, I put my finger to G and began to read up from there, listing off what seemed interesting. "Hmm... Kumogakure history? Eh... Land of Lightning history? Should have been consolidated... Section B sounds intriguing, at least. I think I'll see what topics it has to offer." And so, without any interest to visit 'K-G', I took a left and continued up the staircase, which was utterly barren besides the lanterns.
The next landing concluded the stairs, as there was nowhere higher to go, and thus led directly unto the top floor. A new light enriched the room here, it was dazzling and became argent over the marble, but had no distinct hue - it was rather normal. It took only a moment to find the source, which nearly escaped attention because it subsumed the far off background; a panoramic window gave full view of the verdant horticulture of nature, effortlessly developed over millennia to overgrow the mountain sides and belittle their peaks with trees which grew twice as high. This at once was so beautiful, but could not be meticulously admired from such a distance, for it was wonderful only as knowledge of what it was, that it was a great view, and was not yet the experience of said view. I would make my way over to it in time, but without rush. It would be too insulting to come to know it so immediately and then bury myself in the text of books, so that it became habituated stimuli. Instead I would let it bug me, to eat at my curiosity, and so make that final succumbing, from which I would unreluctantly stamp over to the window, a supremely religious satisfaction.
Allowing myself to dissociate the esctacy which could be achieved, my eyes became caught by some peculiarly red book on a top shelf. Having no particular goal, I voyaged over and found the title "The Times and Trials of Son Makishima - D109.8" printing in gold lettering. " The times and trials... Catchy, but cliche.". Abandoning it, I began to slide down the isle, drumming my fingers across the shelves as I went, tapping a thudding note for each alluring title, but ultimately passing over "The Fame and Fortune of Bado", "Uses and Abuses of Language" by Tomato, and "Upon Contemporary Decadence, a Recourse to Premodern Methodological Conference" by Tetito Kamasuta. The last of which held the greatest appeal, but was forgone for a nearby book reading "Of Suiton and It's Early Practices - D311.5R" by Nozomo the Samurai.
Taking this last book down, I flipped past the table of contents and prologue and began reading from Ch. 1.
I stepped forward unto the 4th floor platform, which to the right immediately opened to the library, and to the left led to the next flight of stairs. The white marble appeared to me marvelous; it was evident the delicacy taken to sculpt each slab, perfectly fitted without gaps between them, each step seeming to flow into the next. What was more, the dusky veins which ran through the marble were all in line, running as it seemed toward the floor entrance. Along with the lack of seams, this gave the illusion that the room was carved into the stone, rather than constructed of. In the corners which faced the stairs sat antique lanterns on charcoal dishes, which held weak flames protected from draft by a tan screen; a placating auburn radiated from the lamps, casting over the clean white stone a dim glow, which had the effect of making it seem ancient and preserved. Early on I had wondered of the necessity of such screens, but my many ascents and descents of the different towers of the Bibliotheca Conscientiae had made me aware that there was most definitely air conditioning. Not even the chilly winds found climbing the northern alps kept a man this free of sweat.
Above the entrance way read 'K-G', which were the sections to be found there. Unsure, as a flight of stairs will leave one foggy minded, I peeled open the pamphlet I had brought and referred to the first page's directory. Though originally I had settled on visiting section P, a sense of genius and proceeding ignorance had led me all the way to the West Wing, which was spurred only by the feeling that 'this was the right way'. It was much too late by time I found the pamphlet, for I was so lost I had already seceded my life to living here.
Assuming that the schema would continue as it had, I put my finger to G and began to read up from there, listing off what seemed interesting. "Hmm... Kumogakure history? Eh... Land of Lightning history? Should have been consolidated... Section B sounds intriguing, at least. I think I'll see what topics it has to offer." And so, without any interest to visit 'K-G', I took a left and continued up the staircase, which was utterly barren besides the lanterns.
The next landing concluded the stairs, as there was nowhere higher to go, and thus led directly unto the top floor. A new light enriched the room here, it was dazzling and became argent over the marble, but had no distinct hue - it was rather normal. It took only a moment to find the source, which nearly escaped attention because it subsumed the far off background; a panoramic window gave full view of the verdant horticulture of nature, effortlessly developed over millennia to overgrow the mountain sides and belittle their peaks with trees which grew twice as high. This at once was so beautiful, but could not be meticulously admired from such a distance, for it was wonderful only as knowledge of what it was, that it was a great view, and was not yet the experience of said view. I would make my way over to it in time, but without rush. It would be too insulting to come to know it so immediately and then bury myself in the text of books, so that it became habituated stimuli. Instead I would let it bug me, to eat at my curiosity, and so make that final succumbing, from which I would unreluctantly stamp over to the window, a supremely religious satisfaction.
Allowing myself to dissociate the esctacy which could be achieved, my eyes became caught by some peculiarly red book on a top shelf. Having no particular goal, I voyaged over and found the title "The Times and Trials of Son Makishima - D109.8" printing in gold lettering. " The times and trials... Catchy, but cliche.". Abandoning it, I began to slide down the isle, drumming my fingers across the shelves as I went, tapping a thudding note for each alluring title, but ultimately passing over "The Fame and Fortune of Bado", "Uses and Abuses of Language" by Tomato, and "Upon Contemporary Decadence, a Recourse to Premodern Methodological Conference" by Tetito Kamasuta. The last of which held the greatest appeal, but was forgone for a nearby book reading "Of Suiton and It's Early Practices - D311.5R" by Nozomo the Samurai.
Taking this last book down, I flipped past the table of contents and prologue and began reading from Ch. 1.
WC: 760