stepsideways | Fyrstr Villieldr

Oh, thought Luke, upon turning the corner towards David's flame and finding himself in Faery. This is interesting. He hadn't been aware he could do that. He wasn't sure even Wedding knew he could do this, although Wedding had always been one to keep his secrets to himself. He couldn't ask, of course, he knew Wedding would be insufferable about it, even if he'd never been wherever here was himself.

Luke cast about himself to see if he could make an exit of the entrance he'd taken, and after a long, looping walk that took him on a meandering walk alongside a volcano, he found himself back in the town again. Following the strongest flame he could sense clearly wasn't going to work, and David's match had entirely ceased to flicker in his mind. Oh well. He'd be worried if it came down to not getting back ever, but as it was at the moment, he was going to take this as something exciting and new, and possibly exploitable, if Wedding didn't know after all. He couldn't reach David, but maybe he could find his way through here to Helen, Jo or Finn. Weirder things had happened. He was meant to be starting that anyway, really.

First things first. He headed off to poke his head into every single unlocked location he could find.

He'd do the locked ones on the second circuit.

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One of the unlocked locations happened to be the bookstore. Merton had spent so much time there since arriving that Mr Chickering had simply started asking him to re-shelve his own books and next thing he knew he was going home with a paycheck.

All the same, it worked out fairly well. Now he had an excuse to give Tommy as to why he sometimes rarely left, even for meals.

When Luke wanders in, Merton is devouring a particularly juicy tale about flesh-eating begonias behind the counter. He stores it quickly out of sight when the shop door tinkles, a transparently guilty look of his face.

"Good morning! Can I help you with anything?"

He very clearly would rather he simple go away very quickly.

"I'm not sure," says Luke, truthfully. "You can go back to reading, if you like. I'd imagine it's a good selling point, for those intending to buy, anyway. I expect apprentices would have to be interested in reading, at least, although, do they do those here? It's a bit modern, in certain ways, and a bit old fashioned in others, and from what I've seen, shop boys needn't really care at all about what they're selling."

This said, he walks off into the shelves abruptly, and a moment later, comes back out.

"Is this a magic bookshop? It's so ambient here it's difficult to tell."

"Shop boy? What are you-"

Except the boy is gone, and Merton is left with his mouth flapping open and shut, trying to work on a witty comeback for when he returns. An idea doesn't come fast enough.

"Magic as is magic books? Because we do sell a fair number of those. As well as a fair number of everything else. If you've got a few weeks to spare you might be able to peruse through everything."

Not that he won't read the heck out of them either way but... "Books about magic, books which are literally magic, or both?" Eying Merton, he decides to cover his bases and does his best to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, what would you prefer your job be called?"

"Oh, both. Like I said, we pretty much carry every book ever made ever. And believe me, card cataloging it all has not be a picnic."

Oh. He's not really used to people actually caring about his feelings. Anyone other than Tommy, that is. As maybe his mom. "Er, shop boy works actually."

That was just about the easiest manipulation job he's ever done, outside of horses. He's not sure it even counts. "Whatever you prefer," he says graciously. "That does sound awfully tiresome."

Iroh is himself another lost soul, and takes the situation in a similarly calm manner. He's not dead, at least -- his wound hurts too much for that -- but it feels too real to be a fever dream.

He catches sight of a young man poking about.

"Are you lost?" he asks.

Luke turns about from his investigation into someone's window box and smiles, broadly and somewhat ingratiatingly.

"I might be," he says. "Although I wasn't really meaning to be anywhere in particular, so I mightn't be after all."

Iroh laughs softly. "I suppose that's one way to look at it," he says. "Me, I'm extremely lost. You wouldn't happen to know what this place is called, would you?"

"Not yet," says Luke. "I think we're connected to everywhere somehow here, though, so I'm sure wherever you're from has it's own name for the place. I shouldn't think knowing the wrong right name would be all that useful."

"It doesn't always matter what the name is, as long as you have one," Iroh says. "A jasmine by any other name would make as fragrant a tea."

"Well, in that case," says Luke, "we may as well call it whatever we want. How does Hugirgard sound to you?"

"Like a mouthful," Iroh admits with a small laugh. "But very distinctive! I don't think I will forget that any time soon. Have you been here long?"

"Hugirheim works just as well," Luke suggests. "That or Sjálfurgard." He smiles and shrugs. He's used to mouthfuls for names. "And no, I've not been here long at all. Not even long enough to have a name decided, apparently."

"This place's name or your own?" Iroh asks.

"Oh, no, I've decided mine." Luke laughs slightly. "I'm Luke. And I think I'll call the place Hughsborough. It's much easier, don't you think?"

"Luke and Hughsborough," Iroh rolls the words on his tongue. "Much easier. My name is Iroh."

"Hi," Luke offers. He pauses. "You needn't be lost, you know. This place seems to respond to purposeful seeking."

Iroh thinks about this. "So if I think about home, I could go home?"

"Maybe. It didn't work for me, but it might for you. I just ended up in themed locations related to my thoughts."

Iroh may be an old man on an important mission, but he is not impervious to temptation.

He closes his and thinks really, really hard, then takes a step, and finds himself in an endless shop full of tea.

"REMARKABLE!"

Fyrstr Villieldr

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