Post by Morgan Pendragon on Sept 6, 2006 7:37:37 GMT -5
((I wrote this at work yesterday because I was bored. It was actually pretty good so I decided to post it.))
Morgan winced, feeling almost physically ill at the sight that met her eyes. The library at Firefox University lay ruined at her feet. She walked slowly through the burned out remains, trying to remember it as it had been. She envisioned the high shelves packed with volumes old and new, and smiled for the first time since the attack.
She fixated on that image, letting the illusion form almost subconsciously. Tumbled tomes and splintered shelves were replaced by visions of a grand library. Shattered windows healed in an instant and tables and chairs were reassembled in the blink of an eye. Morgan knew it was foolish to expend her energy in such a way, she’d couldn’t hold something of this scale for long. She might be able to reconstruct the books she’d read, but that would be at the uppermost limit of her abilities. As she held the illusion, she felt her pent up grief and frustration at herself abate a little. The library here was one of her favorite places. Books gave you information and entertainment without asking anything in return.
She reached out for one of the books to see if she could make it solid, but withdrew her hand as pain seared her out stretched fingers. The illusion fell and the library was once again war-torn carnage. She looked at where the book had been. Now there was a splintered bookcase. One of the sharper pieces was bloody, and she realized in an absent sort of way that the blood was hers. Not that it matters, she thought as she sucked on the wound. She wondered how long it would take to get this place rebuilt for real.
Then, she did the most unexpected thing. Instead of just leaving, or trying to resurrect her illusion, she began clearing away the debris. Her work was, of course, augmented by magic, but the Spanish sun beat down on her so that she was sweating before too long. She favored the sun with a sad smile. She understood that it didn’t yet feel like relinquishing its sultry hold just yet. That was as it should be. In a few minutes she’d cleared the portion of the library she usually occupied when she was here. She’d found a mostly intact table and a chair that’d survived and began stacking the table with every surviving book she could find. Then, of course, she settled in her chair and began to read.
Morgan winced, feeling almost physically ill at the sight that met her eyes. The library at Firefox University lay ruined at her feet. She walked slowly through the burned out remains, trying to remember it as it had been. She envisioned the high shelves packed with volumes old and new, and smiled for the first time since the attack.
She fixated on that image, letting the illusion form almost subconsciously. Tumbled tomes and splintered shelves were replaced by visions of a grand library. Shattered windows healed in an instant and tables and chairs were reassembled in the blink of an eye. Morgan knew it was foolish to expend her energy in such a way, she’d couldn’t hold something of this scale for long. She might be able to reconstruct the books she’d read, but that would be at the uppermost limit of her abilities. As she held the illusion, she felt her pent up grief and frustration at herself abate a little. The library here was one of her favorite places. Books gave you information and entertainment without asking anything in return.
She reached out for one of the books to see if she could make it solid, but withdrew her hand as pain seared her out stretched fingers. The illusion fell and the library was once again war-torn carnage. She looked at where the book had been. Now there was a splintered bookcase. One of the sharper pieces was bloody, and she realized in an absent sort of way that the blood was hers. Not that it matters, she thought as she sucked on the wound. She wondered how long it would take to get this place rebuilt for real.
Then, she did the most unexpected thing. Instead of just leaving, or trying to resurrect her illusion, she began clearing away the debris. Her work was, of course, augmented by magic, but the Spanish sun beat down on her so that she was sweating before too long. She favored the sun with a sad smile. She understood that it didn’t yet feel like relinquishing its sultry hold just yet. That was as it should be. In a few minutes she’d cleared the portion of the library she usually occupied when she was here. She’d found a mostly intact table and a chair that’d survived and began stacking the table with every surviving book she could find. Then, of course, she settled in her chair and began to read.