"You asked me once what I thought you were. I called you a bookshelf because of the hundreds of worlds you hold despite your monotonous appearance.
I think I need to amend that.
You're not a bookshelf. At least.. you're not just one book shelf sitting alone in a corner.
You're an entire library after a fire.
Not destroyed. Not even empty.
The stories are still there.
Some shelves survived untouched. Some books have smoke stains etched on their covers. Some pages have fused together. Some chapters can still be read perfectly.
Others simply require patience because the edges are fragile.
When you walk through that library, you instinctively avoid the burned aisle. Not because there's nothing valuable there.
But because it still carries the scent of smoke.
And yet...
Here you are. Wilingly walking into that aisle with me. Picking up those damaged books and opening them even when your hands shake a little.
That isn't what a ruined person does.
It's what a healing one does."
