Statement of Blumiere Leitner

1

"Are, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. I... I might get off track a little, but I'll try to keep it to the point."

"Right, no, take your time. Um, just- say what you need to. Alright.

Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, taking the statement of Blume Leitner, regarding his father's library. Statement recorded direct from subject, 19th, January. Statement begins.

Um, go ahead."

[A throat clears.]

So, first off, I'm blue. And I'm not just talking about my skin; that's my name, too, Blume Leitner. Everyone just calls me Blu, though. It's preferable to Blume.

I saw the receptionist staring when I came in though, and I just wanted to set some things straight: no, it's not some unheard of, deadly, terrifying disease. I'm from the Tribe of Darkness.

Yes, there's some of us still around. You could say I'm one of be lucky ones. I was already living with Timpani when... the deaths happened. Or suicides, as some call them, although, who really knows what happened? Oh, Timpani's my wife- human, by the way- but I mean- she's really not what I'm here to talk about.

I'm here to talk about my father.

He's become rather famous, really. I'm sure you people have heard of him. Jurgen Blume Leitner, the famous librarian. Grambi only knows what possessed him to inscribed the damn family name in them. It's gotten to the point where I've thought about taking Timpani's last name- maybe I could finally stop getting hounded by those humans, angry about how father ruined their lives, or killed one of their loved ones.It's not that I don't feel anything for them, really, I do. But why come to me about it? He wasn't exactly around much during my childhood. He was always in that library of his, him and the dozens- perhaps it was only dozens. It could have been hundreds, for all I know. I do not remember the faces, nor the names of any of the many, many assistants my father hired to keep up his library. I only really remember that they very rarely left.

It started, when, at my birth, my mother passed. I am told this was the 'beginning' of his obsession with the books, at least, that is by my former butlers opinion, but I like to think it started much later- or at least, up to a certain point, it wasn't yet an obsession, just a high interest. He was there during my early years, as I grew. I can remember a smattering of small, isolated incidents from my childhood- all good. It wasn't that he was a bad father. I can't even say that now. Those books, they just...

I remember one time when I was five or six, and we were sitting in my private library together. You would not be surprised to find out, that I had my own library at that age, but you might be surprised to find out I rarely read anything in that room. Reading was never my interest, something I'm sure disappointed my father at the time, but he made his peace, and often took up my attention with, of all things, puzzle boxes.

Any sort would do- will do, really. I've long since turned my attention to Sudoku and the like, but if you look closely, I've still got the shelves at home lined with the things. Timpani always teases me about them...

I think this must have been one my first ones, however. Father had given it to me that morning, and I hadn't come any closer to solving it. After seeing me struggle with it for several more minutes, he began guiding me, leading me through each step one by one. Near the end, I suddenly went ahead of him, making the final few presses without his assistance. The box popped open with a click, and I immediately looked to him for his reaction, not even caring what prize was waiting inside. The look of pride and happiness on his face, to this day, remains as one of my most treasured memories. And then he laughed, and stole my prize- a piece of candy. I tried to wrestle him to get it back.