Calloused fingertips brush over smooth steel doors, leaving trails in the layer of dust that had settled on top of it over the years. A large serpent's head watches him with dusty metallic eyes and an open mouth. Intimidating fangs curve downwards towards a forked tongue that curls around a thick brass loop. The entire door stands between Tate Grael and the largest source of universal knowledge ever discovered. The cross-species man warily reaches up and knocks the loop against the door, the sound of metal meeting ringing in a crisp note through the still air. A monstrous groan follows, and the thick steel splits in two, opening in towards the massive structure. The tall man stands dwarfed in comparison to this place, standing as an ant in its presence before taking long strides and entering.
The view that is uncovered before him is nothing less than other-worldly. Light filters through a domed glass sky, soaking the skyscraper bookshelves with sunlight. A thousand books fill one row per shelf, if not more. Each spine whispers to him, promising new knowledge within each page, and as he walks, they follow him like the eyes of a city building, looking down on him in curiosity. His strides carry him down the bookshelf streets to a four-way intersection, where a thousand more rows of bookshelves run down as far as the eye can see. The loud groan announces the closing of the doors and he looks over his shoulder to watch the outside world disappear behind them. He resumes his course quickly afterwards, not daring to turn and lose his way in this labyrinth. Every two hundred strides, another intersection appears, showing the same as the one before. His only sign of progress is the slow shrinking of those same steel doors in the distance.
A sudden black shadow flicks across the edge of his vision, startling him into reaching for the small electric blade tucked tight against his hip. His pace slows to a cautious crawl, eyes dancing across every book and the spaces around each, searching for movement. All that he sees are cobwebs and dust, frail detached moth wings and small spider exoskeletons. As he approaches another crossroad, his heart nearly leaps out from his chest as a slim grey mouse skitters out in front of him and off into the maze. He places a hand over his chest in an attempt to tame his racing heartbeat as he stares off in the direction of the disappeared rodent.
"Is our heart truly that frail?" His own voice echoes through the air, shattering the silence and striking fear into his blood. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, staring into his own dark eyes and light skinned face.
"I didn't think it would be. It seems so strong." His hand raises to his sternum, mimicking him in his posture. A sly grin spreads across familiar lips at the confused expression.
"What type of sorcery is this?" His voice wavers and cracks as his copy cat takes a step towards him, their grin somehow growing with every second. A thousand thoughts pass through Tate's mind as he staggers backwards and draws his weapon.
"No sorcery here." He raises his hands to motion to the space around them. "Science, mostly." He watches himself shrug and shove his hands into worn jacket pockets, a finger sticking out of the worn hole in the bottom of his left pocket. He takes another large step forward.
"Stay back!" Tate snaps, bringing his small weapon to life with crackling electricity. His hand quivers in the air as he holds it between himself and his doppelganger, adrenaline blurring most of his thoughts aside from his urgent need to flee.
"Zmaya, that's quite enough." A thunderous voice bellows around them, startling the skittish Tate all the more. He begins to divert his attention to the space around him, only looking back every few seconds to check on his doppleganger.
"You're no fun." His clone huffs and turns, disappearing into a bookshelf. Tate blinks rapidly, staring at the solid shelf that the other him had just strolled into.
"I apologize." His heart escapes his body with a yelp as he jumps nearly out of his skin and staggers a good ten feet away from the man that had just materialized behind him. Standing at a heavy five foot ten slouch and an easy two hundred pounds, the silver haired man stares at him through bronze framed lenses that stick out from his face like odd crab eyes. A thick, groomed beard covers the bottom half of his face, falling down to just above his collarbone in slight curls and crawling up the sides of his face to silver hair that's pulled back in a messy short ponytail. A few freckles and moles decorate his ageing skin, some half hidden from small creases around his eyes and mouth.
Tate's mouth hangs slightly agape as he tries to control his racing heart and thoughts. When he realizes he's been staring for far too long to be polite in any culture, a blush colors his cheeks and he looks away, abashedly sheathing his small weapon and rising to his feet.
"Locust. Nice to finally meet you." The man holds out a calloused hand in greeting and smiles warmly. Tate gathers himself and shakes Locust's hand, eyes searching his surroundings for signs of his vanishing doppelganger. He shakes the man's hand for many extra moments, distracted, before Locust clears his throat and Tate lets go, flushing and plunging both hands into his deep jacket pockets.
"Tate." He shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot as the man looks him over with magnified eyes. "Who was that?" He motions towards the bookshelf that he'd watched himself disappear into. Locust lets out a small, gravelly sigh, the corner of his lip turning up fondly.
"Zmaya. You'll get to meet them -officially- later. For now, let's get you settled in." He turns and strides forwards: straight into a bookshelf. His form is liquidly enveloped by the dark wood until he's gone. Tate's jaw hangs loosely open as he strides over to the bookshelf and slams his palm against the solid structure of the same bookshelf. He wraps his arms around it, roughly rubbing over every inch of the solid shelf with wide eyes.
"Oh, ah... I forgot about that part." Tate snaps his head so quickly to the side Locust worries he may have snapped his neck in his haste. The aged man steps completely out of the shelf and motions for Tate to follow him, this time walking between rather than through the rows of books.
"Um... how did you-"
"I'll teach you later, if you decide to stay." He turns and turns again, travelling through the maze at an uncanny pace. Tate struggles to keep up, breaking into a trot every few strides to keep speed. A few surprised mice squeak and skitter out of the way of their rapid footfalls until they finally come to the end of the shelves and to an elegant open garden sitting area. Two curved staircases rise up from the floor, encircling the sides of a beautiful sitting area, complete with lavish chairs and beautiful foliage, and a massive cerulean furred feline. He stops dead in his tracks as he sees the beast, his heart pounding into overdrive and his palms already curved around his weapon. Locust continues forward, straight for the beast known as a Cervis Marcolus, having a reputation for its poisonous bite and record breaking speeds. What it was doing lounging on a pale green cushioned couch thousands of Jumps away from its origin planet was beyond Tate. The beast cracks an eye open and looks directly at him, past Locust, before lifting its head and greeting the pale haired man.
"He doesn't typically bite." The questionably insane man takes a seat at the edge of the couch, moving the beast's paws a slight bit out of the way. It looks between the two men with an odd crease to it's brow, as if asking a question.
"You do know that's a Cervis Marcolus, right?" Tate's voice quakes slightly. Locust chuckles and looks at him with a warm smile.
"Yes, boy. His name is Russia." He runs a hand over the beast's shoulders, scratching the hollow spot between its shoulder blades with a fingernail. "Well don't just stand there. Come say hello." Tate pales as the beast turns its eyes on him, staring at him with its intimidating aquamarine gaze.
"I-ah... I'd rather not?" He lets out a nervous, airy chuckle and awkwardly rubs the base of his neck.
"Suit yourself." Locust gives 'Russia' one last stroke before leaving him sitting on the couch, walking towards the rounded staircase to the left. Tate eagerly follows, glancing back to make sure the creature doesn't pounce on him as he turns his back on it. He takes the steps two at a time until he's beside the old man and only a few steps from the top. He's led to a set of doors, their basic tan decorated with dark brown rings. Simple twist handles shimmer under the indirect sunlight, their surfaces worn smooth from use. Locust reaches out and turns a handle, tugging the door towards him and revealing a standing wall of water. It ripples like a calm pond might, churning serenely and shimmering like liquid crystal under the sunlight. Blurred shades of purples and greens stand under the surface. Locust takes one look back and motions for Tate to follow him before stepping directly into the liquid, letting it swallow him up and remove him from view. Tate stares on in wonder as the water splashes and ripples back into a calm state. He steps forwards, extending his arm towards it with a cautious curiosity. Lukewarm water wets his fingers as he touches it, small rings emanating off his fingers as they move. He retracts his hand and touches his fingers, finding them dry. This entire place seemed to have rules all its own, from being able to walk through bookshelves, pet a Cervis Marcolus, and now walk through water that doesn't dampen your skin.
He sucks a deep breath through his teeth before bracing himself and walking through the water wall with his eyes squeezed closed and his muscles tense. The feeling of water surrounding him only lasts a moment before air returns to his skin and the sounds of life surround him.
"Good job, boy!" He opens his eyes as Locust calls out from a good few feet away. He doesn't stand alone, a striking young woman now takes the place by his side, a sour expression creasing her face. Wavy platinum blonde hair falls a few inches past her shoulders and light green eyes catch the sun's light enticingly. Well-fitted clothes outline the shape of her slender body, showing off her physical near-perfection shamelessly. He catches Locust grinning at him from the corner of his eye and a blush colors his cheeks.
"Tate, meet Zmaya, officially." He motions to the girl and confusion replaces embarrassment as he looks the woman over.
"Um..." his jaw sits slightly agape as his mind quickly jumps to the only logical conclusion: she was a sorceress.
"Is your heart failing you again, frail boy?" Her voice is a dangerous velvet in the air as she meets his gaze head on. Her beauty is uncanny, beyond most of anything he'd seen before, and his standards were high after enough universal travel. There was just no way that was this sorceresses true form. Most sorceresses have to pay a price beyond gold for their power, and most choose their body as a sacrifice. An awkward few moments pass before Locust breaks it by clearing his throat and motioning for Tate to follow him.
"Let's get you settled in."
•A/N•
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