Thornmouthian Guildhouse - Name TBA

So there is this ps4 game called dreams coming out…I was thinking about making my headspace/inner world in it (I have DID), but also now this light house is really sparking idea’s in my head. The cool thing about dreams is it has virtual reality capability. I’ll definitely post what I come up with after I’ve made it though.

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You must let me know how the VR part is, most of the VR parts I have experienced so far have made me barf :confused:

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I use to get motion sick in vr too. You just got to stop playing whenever that happens and take a break. Then try again. After awhile the motion sickness will stop. You can also use different comfort settings to minimize the nausea. Also ginger candy helps.

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Thanks, I’ll have to try those strategies out next time I play VR.

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After receiving my campaign letter, I caught the night train across the archipelago to the port, and then the boat across the cape to the welcoming glow of the lighthouse. I had a package of fruit and pastries to snack on which was welcome fuel for when I had to lug my suitcase and backpack up to the entrance hall of the lighthouse- thank goodness my trunk of books had been delivered in advance!

Upon arrival, the first thing i noticed was the warm smokey smells wafting down from above, and up from what I imagine was the kitchen- mixed with the salty brine from outside. The sound of crashing waves faded and the oak door closed to the cold outside.

I was welcomed by a few cheery thornmouths sitting by the large open fire and pointed in the direction of the dorms- apparently a few of the end rooms in wing one next to the kitchen were uninhabited.

Heading down the spiral staircase, I made my way past the kitchen, which was piled full of fresh fruit and vegetables in crates, baked goods and bread ready for the mornings breakfast.

After knocking to check, I poked my head into a easterly facing room overlooking the main path into the lighthouse. Equipped with a comfortable looking bunkbed, shelves, a desk, lantern for light and a few necessities, it looks cosy enough and I clamber into the top bunk and pass out straight away, ready for whatever tomorrow will bring!

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The day I got my directions to the Thornmouth guildhouse, I threw my most magiqal items into a waterproof pack and raced to the nearest port, hoping to find a captain willing to ferry me to the mysterious lighthouse. It took some doing, but eventually I set off, a sea breeze tangling my hair and excited trepidation tangling my thoughts. It took the better part of twenty-four hours before the lighthouse came into view, a towering peak that promised warmth, safety, and above all the knowledge I had been seeking. I thanked the captain, paid her well and leapt onto the rocky shore.

I didn’t scramble up the stony path straight away - for a while I just stood there, staring at the light, my stomach clenching with anxiety. What if it wasn’t all I dreamed it would be? What if I would be an outcast among these people, these scholars of magiq? The wind picked up and the sea sprayed my back, almost pushing me toward the door. I squared my shoulders and stepped forward.

I soon saw that my fears were unfounded - my fellow Thornmouths were welcoming, not hesitating to point me toward a vacant dormitory and a fire to dry my sea-soaked clothes and hair. I unpacked my bag, placing the motley crew of books and notepad, all covered in sigils, on a shelf next to the bed in my ocean-view room. I changed into my other set of clothes and hung the others near the fire, before smiling out the window at the roiling ocean and heading off to seek a friendly face to point me to the library, where my research into magiq could at last properly begin.

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I was late. Again. I had been unable to resist finishing the book. I grabbed my bag and flew out of the door to be greeted with a morning song from the spring birds. As cheery as the melody was it could not change my melancholic thoughts. I trudged through the day feeling bereft as I normally did after reading an epic saga, the only solice being the book shop on my way home.
I breathed the enticing scent of words, letting them pull me towards the next world that demanded to be discovered. On the cover a butterfly seemed alive mirroring the fluttering in my stomach on the way to the counter. The moment the book belonged to me I opened it and began my journey. I trusted my feet to take me home so my eyes could read unhindered as they soaked up an intriguing tale.
The sky had darkened but it wasn’t until the rain drops fell on the page that I looked up, my heart skipped a beat when I didn’t see anything I recognised. A lighthouse stood alone under a roiling sky, as I walked towards it, it grew in disproportion to the distance I travelled. Both curiosity and and wariness warred within me just like the storm clouds that pushed me onwards.
I was greeted with a magiqbot holding a pile of dry clothes and a fluffy towel. As soon as I took them it turned and disappeared down the corridor. The three people rushed out of a side room to warmly welcomed me regardless of my dripping attire, I mumbled my apologies for the mess and state of mind. One of them pointed to the floor and I saw that I was stood upon a beautifully ornate metal grate, she explained that it allowed the rain water to run off elsewhere as everyone that came arrived in much the same drowned state. Then one of the others took my arm and guided me to a set of stairs leading down, he told me that I would find my own space and discover everything in my own time after I had changed.

I later discovered that the rain water was used as part of magiq, it collected essence from each new arrival and joined us together.

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It always seemed to make sense… until it didn’t. Mix the brew and listened, they always told you what to add, each leaf and branch and berry, they always knew. You mix the brew and listen why even the bonsai said this was an excellent tea for clarity! How could it ever be wrong!

The dreams had been more vivid lately, they were always vivid but these felt focused. The smell of fresh rain on stone, the flicker of light from some unseen fire, the feel of pages caressing finger tips. I could feel the place calling every time I focused on my breathing and let myself unravel; I could feel the world drift and turn as it took my awareness elsewhere. But each trip was brief as my ego and self awareness reasserted or worse I would slipped in to true sleep and those damned rabbits returned. Infernal things always watching and twitching their noses! But now there was a way. I had brewed and blended this tea just for this purpose. Even some of the very flowers and fungi had been crafted specifically for this tea.

Leaning back and sipping the last of the tea steadily I felt the weight of my eyelids like led curtains drawing them down, each breath becoming deeper and deeper as my very being began to unravel and the boundaries of my self began to dissolve. Just as my being become perception I heard the gentle whisper of the cherry blossom “you will want your umbrella friend” and softly took the handle of the well worn canopy. Feeling things twist and untwist I opened one eye and then the other. Then closed and opened each in turn again. Things were certainly…well wet. I was drenched to the bone and nauseous. I opened the umbrella with the satisfaction of knowing that it offered some protection to the rain along with the amount of water already soaking through my clothes making it feel impossible to take on more water. Slowly and with considerable squelching (Vans are not wet weather shoes) I made my way through the grey murky mist of rain towards the faint light ahead. After what felt an eternity I eventually reached the light seeing it to be an immense form of stone artifice shining a pale light across the land. Making my way to the ready open door I stepped upon the grating and knocked gently on the ancient wood as I heard voices debating and laughing up within the lighthouse. “… um hello. Would anyone have some tea? And maybe a towel?”

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It was a in the dark hours of the early morning when I first saw the glow of the Thornmouth guild house. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Yes I had seen other light houses in distant lands, but non like this. The thornmouth lighthouse was a behemoth. It towered high above the cliffs edge, with a fire that not only acted as a guide for its members, but as a warning for any who dare try and disrupt the peace. Thornmouth was strong. During the last leg of mine and Grangers (my dog familiar) trip aboard the boat named Lady Fate, I scanned through the forum for the Thornmouth guild, reading about my new home. I have to admit, the lighthouse was more grand than I had ever imagined. I wondered about my new guild mates. Would they be welcoming? Or would they be cautious of the new arrival? Maybe both.

Before I knew it, the pup resting her head on my lap darted her head up and let out a little bark, letting me know she heard people skuttering about on the deck. It brought me back down from my wonderings and I realized we were at the docks. I gathered my leather bag, filled with trinkets and books to help me feel closer to home when the inevitable homesickness would come. I attached Grangers harness to her leash and we made our way off of the boat and down the busy dock.

Even though the sun had barely started to rise, the docks were bustling with fishermen and traders alike. The smell of the morning catch mixed with the incense of the traders boats. It was interesting to say in the least. Granger was darting side to side in front of me, trying to greet as many strangers as she possibly could. The little pup was full of energy and I cant help but smile when I look at her.

As we made our way from the dock, the path headed up a beautiful cobblestone road, with aged bricks forming walls on the side, only reaching a few feet from the ground. As I got closer to the lighthouse my stomach began to do flips of excitement. It really was amazing. The sea breeze mixed with the smell of food cooking. It was certainly getting close to breakfast time.

When we made it to the doors of the guild, I noticed the symbol on the stone arch. The symbol I had only seen on pins and webpages, but now it was here. In front of me. Carved into the doors of my new home. I stood there for a couple of minutes not knowing what to do……do I knock?..…or do I just walk in?..…what were the proper steps for something like this? Granger decided for me and let out three loud barks of excitement. Thats when I heard the knob turning and a purple haired girl was peering at me through the opening. She laughed at what must have been an expression of fear and anxiety making my cheeks burn bright red.

She suddenly welcomed me with a very strong hug and gave Granger some welcomed attention and belly scratches, pulled me through the door and called everyones attention to the new guild member. I made sure to say my name loud enough for everyone to hear and then introduced Granger who was letting out whimpers of excitement. After the introduction the purple haired girl pulled me by the arm and led me to a hallway to the right of the entrance.

“The majority of the dorms are downstairs, but for our members with animal familiars we have a hallway close to the entrance so that the precious fur babies don’t have to walk too far to go outside and relieve themselves.” She finished her sentence with a giggle. The hallways was filled with the noises of barking, meowing, chirping, and some other noises I did not recognize. How was I ever going to get a moments peace with all of this noise? She stopped me at a dark purple door with the number 48 marked below a peephole.

“This is it! Your new home! I’ll let you and Granger get acclimated and you can join us when you are all ready!” Before I could even reply she had turned on her heels and was skipping down the hallway.

The key was already in the door handle, all of the empty dorms had keys in the handles. I guess thats the best way to keep track. I gave the key and turn and pushed the door open. It was heavy. Once I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind me, all of the sounds form the outside world disappeared. This place was truly magic. Inside there was a single bed and empty shelves waiting to be filled with books and treasure. There was even a bed in the corner for Granger, although she probably wont be using it since she likes to sleep in the bed with me at night. I tossed my bag on the bed and took it all in. I had made it. This was the beginning of a grand adventure.

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I was thinking a lot about this thread and how much I have enjoyed reading everyones stories, and maybe it would be cool to use this as a kind of journal entry thread for us to explore the Lighthouse? I went ahead and wrote about my morning in the Thornmouth Guild!

Day 1 at Thornmouth -Morning-

I awoke to the sounds of Granger’s protective barks. I opened my eyes and it took me a few seconds to remember that I had made it to the sacred halls of the Thornmouth Guild Lighthouse. I quickly jumped up and fixed the knot on my head that was a man-bun before I had gone to bed. Once I was presentable, I made my way to the peephole. There she was. The same purple haired girl from yesterday. I opened the door a smidge as to not let Granger dart out into the hall.

“I came to give you your first tour of the lighthouse!”

It was a nice gesture. I was used to doing things on my own. I never went to a college orientation before either. I liked the ideas of exploring on my own and finding new things, but here she was and I wasn’t about to make a bad impression this early on.

I quickly rummaged through my bag and found some of Granger’s favorite bones that would occupy some of her time while I was on the tour. I would come back and take her around the Lighthouse later so she could explore a little.

Once I made it back out into the hallway I quickly locked the door and turned back to my purple haired tour guide.

“I never learned your name.” I said.

“Its Ravyn!” She replied enthusiastically.

How was she so juiced up this early in the morning. I had to suppress my morning grump.

We made our way down the hallway and into the main room of the first floor. It was beautiful. I was finally getting to live in one of the fantasy novels that I had grown up reading. There was a fireplace the crackled and sparked different colors of the rainbow. I could have gazed into the flames all day but Ravyn snapped me out of it.

She led me up the stairs and that’s when I took in a site that would give any book nerd heart palpitations. There were books upon books. With any topic that you could think of. It was the library of all libraries.

Along the shelves there were outcroppings and nooks used by other guild members for their research. Heck, even a couple of them seemed to have taken up a more permanent residence among the shelves.

Ravyn told me all that I needed to know about the sacred texts and all of the ways I could find the information that I desired. I mean….who needed the internet when you had a magical library.

As we climbed the stairs higher and higher (my legs were certainly going to be tone) we made it to a room that had round windows all the way around that were adorned with lush drapes that were dyed the colors of every gemstone. I was partial to the window that overlooked the ocean with emerald drapes. It was so pretty that it could be a painting. There was a cooler with wine and refreshments next to a buffet table topped with mountains of pastries, fruit, and breakfast food. Any that you could imagine. I grabbed a blueberry muffin that was still warm and walked past a few guild members that were having a passionate debate about some fragments of a riddle they had found. The tables on this floor were filled with people drawing, writing, talking/laughing. I got the anxiety of a freshman trying to find a friend on his first day of school. That’s when I noticed Ravyn waving me over at the stairway.

“Are you ready to see something absolutely amazing?” She asked

“Uh of course.” I said trying to keep the warm muffin in my mouth.

She lead me up the stairway and there I saw it. It was a huge white golden flame. The strange thing was that it wasn’t hot. My skin should have been sizzling being so close to a flame of that size, but what I felt was desire. I needed to learn. To learn anything and everything. To become a librarian to the magical world around me. The longer I looked into the flame, I could hear my inner voice pushing me discover new things and bridge realities.

Ravyn snapped her fingers in front of my face sand broke the trance. We laughed and she patted me on the back and lead me back down the stairs.

This new home of mine is truly something special.

To be continued……

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I had been here before, and I hadn’t.

I walked in almost as the meeting was beginning. I closed the door quietly behind me and stood by it, surreptitiously scanning the figures milling about in front of me. The more I could observe, the more I would know, and the more certain I would be I wasn’t making a misstep or causing an interruption.

Several were finding their way to seats (chairs, couches, cushions on the floor, or leaning against a wall or the card catelog) with their eyes transfixed on books; others spoke quietly, their thoughtful conversation occasionally accented with a laugh. There was clearly enough room in the gathering for me to join; as if to confirm, one of the guild members threw a glance backwards towards me over his shoulder, raised a hand in a half-wave, and curled his fingers forward to beckon me in.

As we all introduced ourselves, I noticed the common threads: people who like games, books, and picking up whatever knowledge and skills they can. I waited as long as I could, but eventually it was my turn.

“Hi all. I’m Tributary.” The name came effortlessly and truthfully, accompanied by a cascade of thoughts about water and contribution and size and place and form and language and association and allusion and deception and meaning and truth and “I’m still a bit new here, a bit lost. But I think I can at least give a summary of what I can and can’t do to help out around here.”

The words, and my thoughts, kept flowing.
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Weeks earlier, I found myself in my dormitory. Pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling were strewn about the surfaces and pages of sheet music were scrawled on and affixed loosely across the walls. I walked up to the door, tried to open it, and couldn’t build up the strength, the willpower, the nerve, the energy, too fatigued, too weak, too unfocused, too focused on the struggle and not enough on the wonder. I took a breath.

I took my necklace out of my bag, clasped it around my neck, opened the window, and began to sing into the storm.
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Mind control is fickle when the mind one controls is one’s own. See, we control each other.
///
Within a week of introducing myself, I had thrown myself into every conversation I could find a way to and every corner of the lighthouse I could find. Everything was magic. Everything was beauty. Everything was storied.

Everything was built on a foundation that no one could find.

So I kept reading.

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It had been a long day. The scent of half smoked cigars lingered in the stale air of the bedroom. A single poster adorned the pale walls; Van Gogh’s famous Starry Night did its best to clutter an otherwise empty wall space. Light from the moon trickled in through a crack in the blacked out window, but in the distance thunder and rain could be heard. This was the usual state of this city, or at least how he saw it, anyways.

Laying sprawled on the king sized matress was a rather scruffy, but fit, looking man still wearing black jeans over his greying and, albeit slightly ratty, boat shoes. His undershirt was only barely visible through the unbuttoned top of the green flannel that clung loosely to his chest. In the right pocket of his shirt was a clearly marked (and already opened) sleeve of Port Backwoods cigars and a bright red Zippo marked with the slogan, “Red Apple Cigarettes”. A marked sign of his taste in movies and pop culture.

Consciousness was just beginning to slip away, with Starry Night hanging in the corner of his sight. His eyelids dropped closed, too tired to prepare himself for bed properly.

A silent flash racked his eyes back open.

Torrential downpour forced his eyes shut as soon as he had opened them, soaking every bit of him in an instant. He was laying on cold and wet black rock, rain filling the cracks all around him, his room and bed long gone. Sitting up quickly, he wiped his face and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. He was outside alright, but not anywhere he recognized. All around him were sheer cliffs of black rock which shone like obsidian in the flashes of lightning that illuminated the otherwise pitch blackness that permeated the rain.

Standing to his feet, he could see directly in front of him was a steep staircase that had been crudely cut from the rock face. At the bottom was a very sturdy looking jetty accompanied by a large sailing ship, which curiously still had its sails unfurled. Furthermore, the ship and sails themselves did not seem horribly affected by the howling storm surrounding it. Turning to look around, he immediately stumbled backwards and almost down the stairs; for before him stood an impossibly massive lighthouse, if it could be called that. For it looked more like a circular skyscraper made of stark white rock, contrasting itself against the backdrop of the surroundings. Far off towards its peak, a magnificently bright light bespoke the purpose of such a structure, although its size was a whole different matter. No lighthouse in recorded history was even close to a quarter of this cyclopean monument’s size. And the light at the peak was not rotating, but instead appeared to be shining the same luminosity in all directions at once. Directly in front of him cut into the face of the structure was a large and sturdy looking double-door, which neither looked intimidating nor feeble.

Gathering himself and shaking the rain from his clothes, he jogged briskly to the entrance of the lighthouse, not knowing where else to go in this strange place. He had ruled out the possibility of it all being a dream when he had realized his cigars were soaked. Now he just needed answers. Reaching the doors, he saw that they stood close to fifteen feet tall, were made of a dark, waxed wood, and had large golden handles in the shape of rolled up scrolls, each bearing a faux wax seal of a lantern resting atop books set inside of a chevron. These doors themselves were rimmed with gold, atypical to standardized ports of this make.

Gripping the handle of the left door, he pulled gently and surprisingly the large door easily gave way. Warmth, a welcoming glow and a pleasant dusty smell greeted him as he stepped into the entrance of the lighthouse, noticing a large fireplace at the far end of the hall he had just emerged into out of the rain. Above the mantle was the same lantern chevron that he had noticed outside on the door handles, with the word “Thornmouth” written in very proud lettering above that. In front of the fireplace was a welcoming arrangement of cushions on a splay of very large bohemian looking rugs, reminding him of his state of tiredness he was still in from his day. On both sides of the room were sweeping staircases that circled the hall, ascending into the ceiling. These staircases were lined with strange bioluminescent rocks placed in sconces that gave off a warm white glow that was both enough lighting, but not blinding even when staring directly at them. Lines of bookshelves filled the majority of the gaps under the stairs, each full of many different sizes and kinds of books. The very base of the stairs had a curtained nook that had stacks of books piled haphazardly next to it.

Feeling drawn to the fireplace due to the state of his clothes (and more importantly cigars), he strode over. His care for who set this fire or made this place could be catered to later, but for now he had to avoid hypothermia. Upon drawing to the edge of the mantle, he could see a book with a scrap of paper on top of it sitting in the middle of the cushions. Feeling curious, he grabbed the scrap of paper and turned it over. He re-read it twice,
"Joe,
Welcome to Thornmouth!
Below is a copy of The Monarch Papers, which you should read while you dry off.

Stay warm, enjoy the book, and go introduce yourself to your guildmates when you’re ready!"

The note addressed him by name. This was either a very elaborate dream or a strange reality, but none of this felt threatening. Not even the storm outside. Feeling still quite wet, he sat down among the cushions by the fire, set his cigars closer to the heat to dry off, and grabbed the book that was under the note. Flipping to the first page he began to read, feeling quite safe despite the change of scenery.

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Beautifully written. Also, you’ll need to show me those stairs leading up the cliff at some point. I must have missed them when I first got here, and climbing the rock face itself wasn’t fun.

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Sel, there is always the possibility that they only became stairs after you made your climb.

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That’s true. Just my luck. :bashfacepalm: Well, at least the journey has become a little easier since then.

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Must have gotten there by…magiq :smirk::ok_hand:

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I nestled down to sleep, for another journey through dreams, when the dream went different than usual. Instead of being in control of the environment, I was thrown in into darkness… what seemed to be another nightmare… when suddenly… a small glowing butterfly, fluttered by… becoming me to follow, like a moth to a flame. Leading me to what seemingly looked like a blinking candle in the distance. This was not further from the truth. Amidst the tempest shores and torrential waters stood a beaming tower of a lighthouse unlike any other I have ever seen. The luminescent butterfly lead me through its walls, to it’s even more awe-inspiring interior, quite in contrast to the exterior. Inside there were many halls, dorms, and decorated endless libraries… but it wasn’t the endless literature that amazed me the most. But the infinite chasm beneath the behemoth of a tower, the dark labyrinth. I knew I could spend hours safely searching and learning of the relics and treasures it was built to protect in that dream… until I woke.

Dissatisfied… and unknowing of how to return to that mystical place without a guide, I awoke to get ready for the rest of my day. Standing up from my bed, I noticed something peculiar… a small envelope placed on my nightstand by my dream journals that wasn’t there when I went to sleep.

Marked with a wax seal shaped like :thornmouth: I was immediately intrigued, and further perplexed upon opening, to find an invitation to a guild known as Thornmouth…

The rest is history~♧

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‘L-space is infinitely large and connects all libraries, everywhere and everywhen. It’s never further than the other side of the bookshelf, yet only the most senior and respected librarians know the way in.’

‘You stray into L-space at your peril.’

And that in the stolen words of Terry Pratchett is how I went from the fantasy section in the basement of Waterstones Birmingham, to the top floor of the Lighthouse library.
When I miss the agreed rendezvous at the Waterstones entrance, my friends will launch the usual search party, I hope they find the same turn I did they would love this place and the beautiful thunderstorm beating at the windows.

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I don’t mind a cliff face room with a cut out bay window letting in the light. Ivy all around it.

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A few days ago, I was sitting in my private library… reading.

Computers and digital books have their place, but there is nothing quite like the feel and smell of paper tomes. Have you ever noticed you can judge the age of a book by it’s smell? When it’s new, there is the smell of ink (and these days, cleaning solvent) and just opening a new book can give you a little rush. As it ages, it picks up the smells around it… sometimes a little smoke from candles, sometimes the scents of the foods made (and consumed) around it (but not too close… horrors). But eventually, the smell tells the story of how it spends its days. Dank and musty if it aged in a humid environment, or dry and dusty if the air was less humid and more arid. Or sometimes, almost a floral scent when it was cared for in just the best ways.

But I digress. I was sitting in my private library. Thumbing through the latest RPG book that I had added to my collection. As was normal (at least for me), the possibilities unfolded as I read… stories to be told, worlds to visit, narratives to create.

Then something changed. I didn’t notice at first, engrossed as I was with the worlds dancing and evolving in my head. But then I became aware of the sounds of water slapping against rock and stone somewhere in the not too far distance. The almost overwhelming bouquet of the books of a library much larger and older than my own. The murmuring voices of others.

Looking up from my book (and my reveries), I realized my little library was but a small reading nook in great round library reaching for a dozen of stories both up and down. I made a mental note to explore my new surrounding later, but first I had some notes to make…

You can call me Blue. I’m thrilled to be here.

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