2020-06-23 - Quick, to the Library!

The Guide to Astropahy and Astronavigation mentions a few things, some readable, much in math, and definite mention of a map, in 'Thorn and Burbidge's Guide to Interstellar Constructs'.

Well there's only one library to have such a book and another to call about mechanical questions. Ever since Alexander pointed out to Grant that 'if only there was an interdimensional star chart to find those people a new home' and he happened to have one on hand... well the rest is as one might expect.

He called Itzhak on the phone to meet him and his dude downtown at Vyv's place. Easy landmark, plus food. He'll fill him in on how a couple repair guys and a bespoke chef are going to figure out how to save a race of people from being wiped out while freeing the city.
No he's really not let this go. It's beyond principle; this is a spiritual mission for him.

Good food! Though Vyv is not eating any, himself, at present. A bigger benefit just at the moment is the air conditioning, which is very pleasant in contrast to the hot summer afternoon. The chef is not currently working, and thus not in his whites, but instead a tan-and-white seersucker suit with a brown gingham shirt, brown knit tie, paisley pocket square, and brown-and-white spectator shoes. He's made himself comfortable on the couch near the back of the shop's general eating and chatting area, legs casually crossed as he twists a long roll of paper to keep most of it rolled as he searches through for the part of it he wants to read right now. "You do have your card on you, yes?" he murmurs absently to Grant as he skims.

The other repair guy shows up in his sleek purple-glitter Stingray, slipping into a parking spot like a lizard wiggling under a rock. Itzhak climbs out, scowling at the clear sunny day. Stupid DAY, why does it have to be so nice? His mood is a lot more well-suited to the stormy spring and gloomy winter. He takes the curb and sidewalk in a couple long swinging strides, shoves the door to the patisserie open, comes on in like someone's problems stacked over six feet high.

He's wearing mirrored aviators, pulls them off and clips them into the neck of his clingy black tank top when he gets inside. Snug, soft jeans washed to the texture of suede and steel-toe workboots make up the rest of his 'signature look', as occasionally he claims if anybody gives him shit for dressing like a rough-trade rent boy.

"'Ey, yo, Chef, boychik." He jerks upnods to each of them.

Grant is absolutely too school for cool. There's a short sleeve collar shirt, white on white linen plaid (ruined) by being over a t-shirt taht at least has his own branding on it: Vandal. He's not hiding it. Why bother? His hand looks substantially better wrapped in a brace to keep teh stitches clean, and him out of trouble, but it doesn't look like a giant Q-tip anymore. Score!

Looking all too proud of himself and like he's having a rather low-key day he assures, "You know, I knew you were going to ask so I checked and I did." The smile warms easy to his pal coming in. He was there, he knows, maaaaan!

"Z, V. V, Itzil. Pretty sure ya met. Dunno how formally. Soooo Vyv has this idea that we can return one of the books we got and call it up. We jsut need... a mailbox. Or something. We know where the street address is and thought we'd try that first. The new promise land, however, turns out to be a construct whiiich is where I kinda thought we could use a shop second opinion who was up to speed on this city situation."

"Also hi. Nu?" Sure, now he asks what's up.

Vyv glances up at the soft announcing 'ding' of the door, as do the current counterstaff, who are looking faintly uneasy about their top-level-boss hanging out in their general portion of the shop as they work. Not for the first time, to be fair; sometimes he just shows up for some tea and to ostensibly read something and throw them off-balance. It works every time. It works even when he isn't intentionally doing it to entertain himself (er, that is, to make sure the service is acceptable...), as evidenced by now, when almost none of his attention is spared for them. What doesn't belong to Grant and the paper belongs to the new arrival, currently, with a quick flick of an assessing glance top to toe and back, and a faint half-smile. "Good afternoon," he replies to the greeting, and makes a vague 'join us' gesture to the rest of the small constellation of velvet seating that surrounds this particular table, lower than the others.

"I don't think we technically need to return a book, though it probably couldn't hurt as reasons go. What we need..." a distracted pause as his eyes drop to skim further along the paper -- and that is a very thick roll of paper, might even reach across the whole shop and out the door if he let it unroll -- "is to find the current summoning method, and summon it. It changes. Every time one checks." Or he'd already have it memorized. One never knows when an interplanar library might be of use, right? "I wonder if it would still update itself properly if I cut the summoning intructions section out of the rest of the form," he murmurs mainly to himself, though a faint shake of the head suggests he's already deeming it unlikely.

Itzhak does indeed join them, slinging himself into one of the velvet chairs with hipshot grace. "Okay, well, I know the City. You know, kinda. As much as anybody can on this side. Never seen this Library, but I gotta say I'm kinda dying to." He eyes the scroll, leaning forward, and nudges Grant with a shoulder. "We gotta summon it? Okay, how do we summon a library? Do we like, offer up a sacrifice of books?"

Grant looks at Itzhak and says dryly, "You wanna make the Librarian plotz? Cause you're on the right track, bubbeleh. Don't. Hurt....the books." It's simple. He sips his coffee and looks to Vyv and can't help but to crack a smile that has all fondness in it, confusing as the concept of reading the damn EULA is. "You read the manual?" Both eyebrow go up and if he should be, by general society standards know better than to crowd the chef he was not informed. Injured hand getting use points to where the print gets smaller and might be wiggling, "What's that bit about then?" He grins knowing a terrible look might be his in return for saying, "We need to call your tailor and get the book a new jacket?" That joke IS NOT DYING!

Isn't it, though? Vyv tilts his head down a bit farther as he reads entirely in order to allow a better up-and-sideways flat look at the shorter man leaning in. "Library books can maintain their own wardrobes, thank you," he replies in a tone that matches the expression, but he doesn't seem to be about to strike the skater dead for the crowding, at any rate, and there's a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips as he goes on. "Of course I read the manual. It tends to be far more efficient than, for example, tossing something into a mailbox and looking hopeful." Though that's totally going to be what the current summoning is now, just to mess with him, isn't it. "Also helps avoid accidentally selling my soul in exchange for up to twelve fiction and ten non-fiction volumes out at a time. And judging by the 'penalties' sections we'd have better odds sacrificing people who dog-ear interesting pages."

Glancing where Bax is pointing, where the (hand-inked, apparently) letters may indeed be wiggling slightly, he adds, "That's the restrictions on use of the private meeting rooms... ah!" Jogs his memory, apparently, since he twists the ends of the roll to move it on a couple feet further, then pauses to scan, and nods. "Access requests," he reads, glancing up from the paper to the pair of them, and back down, "Right to request... route and timing permitting... all attempts made within blahblahblah... Summoning. There we are." Now, what is the current method?

"I don't mean like a burnt offering," Itzhak says in a strenuously aggravated way to Grant. "I mean like, here's some books for the collection. Jeezum crow, Bax." That's how he shows his love. Thinking, he adds, "Maybe with some pastries. Librarians love pastries, right?" He quiets, glancing between Vyv and Bax with a little quirk of a smile in one corner of his mouth, that might be best described as satisfied.

Vyv starts talking and he starts listening, eyes dropping to the scroll. He's not reading it, at least not closely, he's just using it to occupy his vision while he listens to Vyv with all the intensity of a musician.

Grant sits slightly agog. The slight smile catches warming the confused expression up to one of some admiration of note there. NO HE IS NOT SUBTLE. With a dopey grin he tells Itzhak, "This guy..." Considering this he flips open his backpack and murmurs, "Anything about chalk? I got that. OH SNAP! we haaaaave graphite pencil too. Those mutually explosive? I mean if we want to illustrate things I can just... I need... a surface." He looks around INSIDE THE SHOP. Blinks and tells Vyv and Itzhak hesitantly, "I ...don't have one." That...is the correct summation if he wants to live today. "Sooo we wanna try that?"

The fact that Vyv has probably never said 'Jeezum crow' to Bax does not in any way mean he doesn't appreciate the urge to do so, and if aggravated affection does draw a glance, it's one that likely qualifies as appraising and perhaps faintly amused. The only bit that gets a direct comment from him, however, is, "Everyone loves pastries. Good ones, anyway."

'Mutually explosive' pushes the faint amusement into a quick, just-audible exhalation through the nose, like the amount of laugh someone left in the carton just to be able to claim they technically hadn't finished it off and didn't need to be the one to replace it. He doesn't even appear to be watching as Bax looks around the shop, but nonetheless there's a murmured, "If you draw on my walls, I will erase it with your spleen." Which would. Almost certainly be less than effective. Even if the chef were actually capable of extracting it. It would also be more threatening if the hints of amusement had actually been banished.

"You're in luck," he says at more proper volume, "It does call for chalk. Do you have that charcoal with you today as well?" He scans the words on the page, and rises to his feet. "All right. We'll need to head for the boardwalk. And we'll need chalk and/or charcoal, a book, and three people." He flicks a glance to each of the others. "I think somehow it knows; I've never seen it insist on three before." He scans the instructions as he starts toward the door, just assuming the others will follow.

It is indeed the boardwalk where they end up, though behind the storefronts rather than before. Vyv walks along that alley, giving things a calculating look as he glances from paper to brick and back, then points to one. "The youngest should draw the library arriving in time and space. Chalk, charcoal, or ideally both. Start there," he points to one spot on the wall, "and have it arrive here, make that," he points to the current shop's rear door, "the entrance. The next," a gesture to himself, "should open the book to page 153, and read from sentence two of paragraph three to the end of the page or until the artist is finished, whichever comes first. At which point the eldest," a look to Itzhak, and a slight inclination of the head, "should open his mind to space and the door to the library." A small pause, rereading that line. "I didn't write it."

When asked if he has chalk he says with a refined seriousness, "Do crocodiles sing in the bathtub?" Uhhh.... He waggles his Go-Box (no not the one with drugs in it, this one. He blinks at Itzil's explosive...agreement which wins a smile and a slap on the shoulder with his good hand. Along, however, he doth follow to Sweet Retreat, Vyv's idea. Really in a group with an ex-con, and a graffiti artist, who would have pinned Vyv as the menace? Following along he murmurs to Itzhak, "I'm so proud of him. See? Told you bringing you was a good idea. So when we get there the whole like...city isn't on the back of an organic being they'd have to subdue. it's on a construct and we have to figure out how to get them there so they know and how it operates to make it work..." Thoughtfully he adds, "Before that Thorn shill gets his panties in a twist." Still angry for being called less than favorable things and told to abandon people to die. Little bitter. Little bit. It'll work out.

"Like Passover," Itzhak says to Vyv, dryly amused. Yep, Vyv is a menace, and Itzhak is happy to go along with whatever mischief he wants to make. The boardwalk it is, and...the back of a row of stores, it is. Okay! Isn't this that ice cream shop? Whatever, Itzhak's in a mood to make trouble and not be too interested in consequences.

He smirks at Grant when he gets shoulder thwapped. "Yeah yeah. You got the best ideas. Draw that door, meyn boychik."

When that's done, and Vyv has read from the book (Itzhak had one in his car that he offered should they need it. The Last Unicorn. Of course), Itzhak raises his voice and sings to the drawing. Snapping out the beat, he sings:

He's really into it, although he has to drop the octave, or two. Them hips are moving. Irresistibly as a glacier, his Song rises in him and blooms outwards.

"Not mine," the chef replies, probably meaning his bathtub as there's been no sign as yet of him owning a crocodile, but the waggling of the box is taken as confirmation of both chalk and charcoal. Good, ideal!

What, Vyv's a menace now? The precise location could have been specified in the summoning instructions, you know! ...It wasn't, mind, but it could've been. And if there's any untoward effect and he can't simply stroll away from it, maybe he'll just claim it was! ...all right, fine, he might be a little bit of a menace. Now and then.

He's just far enough separated and focused enough on the process that he misses out on the murmuring, but he does catch Itzhak's remark to him, and is apparently at least familiar enough with the reference that after half a beat of processing the likeness he looks a bit amused as well. "At least we needn't source any lamb's blood today."

The offered book was accepted, and since the pages aren't particularly long in that, he lets Grant get started before he begins to read, unhurried. "The sky was piled up over the valley of Hagsgate, the colour of dirty soap, but it was not raining. Far below, the sea slid out toward the smoky horizon in hard bands of silver and green and kelpy brown..." It has an odd synchronicity with the location so close to the shore. He goes on as the skater draws, and the page ends with the lyrics of a song sung by a character, sung now by Vyv to some improvised tune (and alas not a terribly good one; they may all be artists, but he is not the musician here) and where it breaks off a weirdly apposite cue for Itzhak to begin his own:
"And I would run away,
And beg from door to door—"

Grant doesn't care what wall he draws on. Difference between he and his peers is medium often. He loves his rattlecans, but being as his father's a lawyer he was turned on to things that wash off at age 14 when his father had to pick him up for Vandalism and decided instead of kicking his ass, maybe get the kid on a less destructive medium.

He gets an eyes for things and draws arm length at an angle to get a nice 3-D effect that shows a sort of mural that leads from someone being bored, daydreaming, and that daydream leading to taking their book to return, a shop with rockets coming out of it like a spaceship with a point tower roof for a nose come and the figure running up to it. To avoid profiling the people in question are a cat, a unicorn, and a fox.

Hey, anyone can identify with animals. It's important to include all your viewers and readers, and lo he tries. A helpful little alien with eye stalks seems to be waving back.

Vyv finished reading his passage and Bax can't not ask, "Well then what happened?" And then singing. Ooooh yeah they're summoning something. Right. Heeeee may've gotten so wrapped up in what he was doing he forgot why. "Itzil, you should totally start singing all our services. Withthe swivly hips. Just sayin."

Itzhak's voice is carried off by some force and made brilliant and blazing as Freddie Mercury's. He is very surprised by this, eyes widening. Okay, he can sing, but he can't sing like this!

The door opens, obeying his will--yes, he's the gantzeh makher thank you--and then his song cuts off with a surprised yelp. Oh, he's a unicorn now. The unicorn snorts in alarm, long tasseled tail whisking. He's black, with glossy bronze-green highlights, his sides dappled with white like a fawn's. Somehow he is perfectly himself, in this shape, no less so than the tall curly-haired man. Turning his head, he eyes the welcome sign.

"Good job, guys." His voice, not shaped by an equine mouth but rather just....happening, is like a violin.

Vyv looks distinctly pleased with Grant's work as the mural develops; he can't help it, or at the least, doesn't bother to. And then there's his own voice ringing oddly, like the opposite sensation to hearing one's voice recorded -- instead of losing all the resonance it has in one's own head, there's more, a swelling of the sound, and they way it twines with Itzhak's singing is...

...well, is enough to make it take a moment or two before that and the pop of the mural from strangely realistic into just plain real release enough of the chef's attention to anything else that he notices that he is, apparently, now a cat. It's almost as though there's some conservation of colouring going on today, because his tan suit and near-black hair are sort of preserved in the beige fur with near-black points that he sports now instead, as a long, tall, sleek Siamese cat in the classic style. Not so exaggerated as the modern show style tends to be, elegant and well-balanced. He sits suddenly, tail thrashing to one side and then the other before it settles to just a twitch at the tip as he lifts and examines a forepaw. "...well. This is unexpected. And somewhat inconvenient." A glance around, for the form; has it simply disappeared along with his clothing? And, at slightly less concern, the book? He sounds very like himself, voice 'just happening' in the same way as the unicorn's, though in his case no more melodically than it always does.

"...yes, though," he adds, gaze flickering over the others -- a slight extra pause at Itzhak's horn -- and then over the library itself, "good work." Rising to his feet again, he gives a long, full-body stretch, and strides toward the door. There's something of a slink in it, in a way that seems as though there's likely to be one in nearly anything he attempts at present. And surely they'll revert to normal after this is done. ...surely. He'll just keep telling himself that for now.

Grant is looking up up up at the door. He can't help but to think Wow that knob is so far away...heh...I said knob. Why is it far away Sitting he scratches behind one on of those large fennec ears and considers the reason. Ah well maybe it'll come to him. That the door swings open is enough for all four tiny legs to blur under him carrying him inside and around in a circle to check out the floor pattern in high speed. Coming back he ski-i-i-ids to a stop in front of the Unicorn. He stops moving long enough to bot be a blonde blur to look at the Unicorn, the cat...the equine...the feline. One paw comes up and hesitates by his own ear and flick flick flicks in Vyv's direction until it comes in just enough contact to land on his nose. boop!

"That might not have gone as intended. Itzilcorn... please just... don't stamp on my tail again. That would be so super." There's history here. Tongue licks the side of his teeth and short muzzle and he trottrottrots inward. Up one aisle and back and down another and back he's actually trying to build up speed to jump, leap, and look at the titles as they pass. This is terrible methodology. Really. Turning in a circle he tries to sniff out the librarian sized librarian. "Allooo? We are looking for a particular book and would love some assistance."

The unicorn regards the, ah, cat, and the fennec. He seems pleased. To Grant, he says, "Yeah, well, don't bite any crotches. The power was within you all along."

Stepping into the library, he moves light and elegant. He is not exactly a horse, more deerlike, but also not a deer. Something of his own. His beautiful head is long-nosed and carried high. Softly he steps, through a forest of books. His nostrils flare in the velvety muzzle, just before the librarian--assistant librarian--calls to them. He snorts, shaking his head, made nervous, but paces over to the man. If man that is. "We, uh," he says-sings, and looks around and down at his companions. Then he looks back at the Assistant Librarian, and stretches his neck towards him to snuffle him.

What? It's perfectly natural.

Vyv watches that lifted paw of Grant's warily, and then... his nose is booped. The ears turn slightly back, sapphire eyes narrowing faintly and tail swishing once, and his own paw lifts, dropping on top of the fox's and pushing it slowly but inexorably down to pin it briefly against the ground. A blink, and then that stretch before he heads inside.

Once there, he walks along the nearest aisle, eyeing what titles are there and glancing around to figure out how the rest seems to be arranged, but-- yes, asking is more efficient, certainly when he's lost multiple feet of height and gained a couple extra to walk on. When the fennec's call is answered, the cat gathers his haunches and leaps up onto the shelf nearest the librarian, the better to look him in the face when he speaks. That's the plan, anyway. And it more or less works, too, if one ignores the wobbliness of the landing right on the shelf's edge and the way it widens his eyes and has him thunking a bit heavily into a lean against the books he's now sharing the space with.

Which is something one should definitely ignore.

He's going to.

It shades into a much more elegant settling into a seated position, tail dangling off the edge and one paw coming up for a delicate grooming lick before he focuses on the man. "We're looking for a book," he confirms Bax's claim. "Thorn and Burbidge's Guide to Interstellar Constructs, I believe. Do you have it?"

Grant blinks when his hand is pinned to the floor. One eye slowly twitches. Yeah that was the injured hand. He really should have thought of tha before hand, though it seems at lest Vyv is keeping track and being more careful that the owner. Conidering this the other hand comes back. God he's going to try it again like he does not possess the simple ability to learn from an error until he's commited to its failure twice. Luckily Vyv is off and moving with all the grace of a cat...well more like a Maine Coon thunking into things instead of an elegant Siamese, but likely they're supposed to ignore that.

Padding over he instead focuses on the still-humanish libraryian having lost all altitude (not that there was much to work with in the first place). "Unnn Itzil? can you....?" Pick him up higher maybe? See! Usefulcorn! He is quick to add, "We have some friends moving to one soon and we are trying to figure out logistics and things they need to know...ooh and a, uh... can you also point us towards cookbooks too?" He pauses and looks to Vyv-Cat with a shrug. Hey they talked about it. He's been practicing his own art off-world, the chef should be able to too. "Itzil, I figure we can maybe review it and see if we need a companion guide to go with? Meybbe?"

The unicorn whuffles and lips at the librarian's hand. What? He might have a treat! Finally he huffs a last warm breath into the man's palm, pats the top of the man's shoulder with his horn. "You're different. Not a man, like us."

None of them are actually men at the moment, but never mind that. "You okay there Chef?" the unicorn adds, one dark eye on the Vyv cat, tone torn between amusement and concern.

He drops his head--carefully, because of the horn--and takes the fox's scruff in his teeth, very gently. Grant gets lifted and deposited on the unicorn's back. Don't mind the ridiculous amount of glossy black mane.

Vyv absolutely is an elegant Siamese, thank you very much! ...an elegant Siamese thunking into things. Yes. Continue to ignore that bit. As yet, he's at least not knocking anything down, accidentally or on purpose. Neither is out of the question, honestly, though thus far he's neither bored nor annoyed enough for the latter.

"Fine, thank you," he replies to the Itzhakorn, watching the Bax-to-back depositing, and there's a small twitch at the tip of his tail and slight shift of his ears that telegraphs to anyone well-acquainted with cats I am definitely considering doing something with what I'm looking at, quite possibly involving leaping onto it, which may be disconcerting to anyone also familiar with both the way that last landing looked and claws. The consideration is, perhaps thankfully, at least temporarily halted by the librarian's reply, and a glance toward the indicated west wall. Yes, he's intrigued by the cookbook potential. Even if he does recall the ingredient list for Bird Noodle Soup.

"Not certain on the edition," he answers, pulling his gaze back to the librarian, "but if it helps at all, it was referenced in Astropathy: A Guide to Astronavigation," and he adds who it's by as well as the volume and page number cited to the best of his recollection. "We're hoping the map might give us a better idea of where people could best be relocated, so if there are newer editions than the one referenced, it might be worthwhile to find the updated maps." That last bit's as much to his companions as their guide. "You don't happen to have something along the lines of 'City Evacuation and Relocation for Beginners' in here, by chance?" Never know.

Grant gives the unicorn a look reminding, "Man like us? Itzil you're a fershtuken Unicorn right now. I don't think we're the strongest basis for norm- " words cut off as he's picked up. It could be instinct or something else but all four of him limbs tuck up like a bunny in what is definable as 'travel mode'. All four paws hit and try to steady himself on that broad back. At least he has the decency not to yell-

"Woo, heya! I mean, thanks, bruh."

We may have spoken too soon. Moving on, ears flick forward for the answer and he parks his butt for now listening to the answer with those big batlike ears. "Yeah cause there's lie this city, and she's kidna pissed, and she's on the edge of this world well, but it's dryin up and she gotta get out and is tired and the people livin there don't wanna move but they have to cause she's like I'm done with you, ya know? Like we're not choosing sides here,. We want to see if we can help everyone involved by finding them options for a new place and the book talked about these construct thingies. Trying to find out what we need to know to achieve-" Looking to Vyv who sums it up. the fennec fox smiles jutting his paw that-a-way, "That, man."

The unicorn puts his ears forward at the Assistant Librarian. His long tasseled tail switches back and forth. "You can tell, huh?" ...is a unicorn flirting with a metahuman librarian? Maybe. He follows along, his gait easy, loose and smooth, long legs working in perfect concert to a tap-tap-tap-TAP beat.

"What about..." he pauses, not sure of the actual words he needs. "Them who come from the ocean, the big ones with the shells. I need some reference on them. I don't even know what they're called. They're big. Real, real big. Like, at least as big as New York. Anything on husbandry for 'em?"

Vyv's tail twitches like the light flickering on an accessing hard drive, eyes narrowing again. "...Sixth," he says after a moment, "I'm fairly sure it was the sixth edition. I recall thinking seventh would be more appropriate." Apparently why he might think that is to be left as an exercise for the student... should any care.

The Civil Planning section seems like a perfectly logical place to check, though given how large the world is right now and the difficulties of his current configuration vis a vis card catalogs and computers and the like, 'ask the Librarian' seems even more logical as general plans go. He gives a slight nod, one that shades into a tilt at the admission of pegging them for humans despite their current forms. "How?" he inquires, "...aside, I suppose, from the fact I've not seen any non-humans that seem likely to be able to accomplish a summoning in our particular neck of the woods, at least on the side we were working from. And I still sound like myself, and even the brightest cats I've met thus far weren't much for reading, let alone astronavigation..." But there's probably a better tell than that, right?

As they're clearly about to move, he eyes the general distance, makes a brief calculation regarding the current length of his legs and those of the unicorn and their guide, and looks like that I'm gonna leap on it urge is back. It takes a touch of effort to suppress it and merely lift a paw to pat at Itzhak's side first, a sort of silent may I? Polite, for a cat. Maybe that's a tell as well.

The Itzhakorn's question has his ears shifting to a confused sort of slant, then shifting again as some sort of bell is rung in his mind. "Callios," he says, "If you mean the city, at any rate, that's what the..." ugh, "little girl-thing from the reef said it was, a Callios. Whatever that is. A very large and old one, she thought. And... that the others there are all asleep while the tide's out, if I remember correctly."

Grant is riding along. Weirdly he is quiet. The excitement of having people help take care and not being the only Maestro that cares about trying to optimize saving this situation? It feels pretty good. 4/5 of his favourite people might be grumpy as hell but they get things done. He- he also has an itch behind one ear and a foot to fix it.

"She was cool. Naoith?" He tries to remember and nods, "Naoith. I hope she's okay and didn't get squished in the stampede." This eyebrows though take a very humanish concern and his ears lay flat for a moment in derision, "You can't keep a living thing hostage for youre convenience. Yeah that was the Callios. Itzil, great call."

The unicorn blinks his long-lashed dark eyes at the Assistant. "Wonder what else you can tell." Like, really, Itzil? "Thanks, Chef," he says to Vyv, and dips his head to nuzzle the cat so politely asking to jump. A gentle nosing indicates Vyv can climb aboard. "Callios. She's all white scales and a gold eye. ...Or is that black scales? She talked to me in a Dream."

He casts Grant-foxie an amused glance over his withers, winks at him, then swings his head around to watch the diagram form in calligraphic living ...something. Neat. Something else the Assistant says catches his attention. "...hang on, astropathy? Like, a disorder? Or is this like in Warhammer 40k, the psychics?"

"Well, what else are you?' Some other time, that could've come off as flirting too, but today it seems more just relatively-friendly curiosity. The Vyv-cat rubs his cheek against the nuzzling unicorn head in that movement that conflates acceptance of some sort of comradeship with asserting a kind of ownership claim via scent, because all things belong to cats, except the ones they've decided they don't want. "Thank you," he says, and leaps.

Luckily for all involved, he's perhaps got the hang of this jumping thing now, because the leap onto the unicorn's back is genuinely graceful this time, and does not end up requiring claws to keep him careening off the other side. Instead, he settles into the spot behind the tiny fox, sitting low for best balance and as long as he's there, giving in to the urge to groom one of those massive ears when it gets too near his muzzle.

"Naoith," he echoes, "...yes, I think that was it. She said she was from the...Western reef? I remember her also saying their... well, I assumed planet, but now I suppose construct, orbited a 'Well' that was often incorrectly called a star. Made me think of a black hole, but that surely wouldn't serve very well as a sun. ...unless one was on the other side of it, perhaps..." A small shake of the feline head. "Presumably if we find the correct maps they'll answer all these things." And meanwhile he's very interested to watch how the book-locating seems to work.

Grant wrinkles a flat sort of look that wants to exclaim in bewilderment You're licking me?! but doesn't argue so much as let his ears lay flat like airplane wings. This is his life. He lives here now. Yet? No argument. This is one resigned coin-operated-....well fox.

"Naoith." he confirms. Though the details circle and the size 6 shoe-sized fox curiously wonders, "Maybe there was a star that pushed out like... exothermic heat or something like a nuclear engine and that kinda propelled things and... died causing stuff to fall inward to the black hole?" The fennec blinks with injured paw waving in a vague circle, "Saw that in a movie once." Which might sound a lot more insightful had he not cited his source as such. In the Veil, however, such things aren't impossible.

Itzhak might never know how lucky he is that Vyv made that jump. He merely twitches the skin on his withers under all those little paws, and carries the whole party along, unlikely as it is. A beast of fable with a New York accent, carrying a fox and a cat on his back through an interdimensional library. It's something he should write a song about.

"Feeling stars," he echoes, pleased over the idea. "I bet I could feel a star. Or a black hole. Or an accretion disk. Those are all matter." His ears turn this way and that, and he swings his slender muzzle around to investigate the book. And maybe lip at it. What? You never know, it might be delicious. "Okay, so you're saying the City harnessed somethin' like that and uses it for energy. Uh...does that mean the 'tide' coming back in is gonna be a supernova?"

A fennec fox who talks like a west-coast skater and a Siamese cat who sounds not inconsiderably like an evil animated lion sometimes, if we're getting into that. And yes, the former is absolutely getting an ear groomed by the latter and if he doesn't like it maybe he should've made sure that fur was lying down properly before the cat got there, hmm? At least they aren't actually dirty. Things might have ended up delayed by minutes.

'A few other things,' huh? A cat can look at a king, and also apparently at an assistant librarian. Eyebrow arching isn't so much a thing in this form, but that ear quirk just might suffice. "...hypernova," he echoes, and while it doesn't go up like a question, it still gives the distinct impression that he may not have heard that term before, and is trying to extrapolate from the known 'supernova' for a mental image. "I suppose light wouldn't be an issue either way. Orbiting a black hole sounds a bit risky, though." His eyes narrow again when the book's produced, because yes, that does look remarkably the same as the copy he perused. Literally so, since in fact he does remark, "That looks startlingly like the copy he has out."

Vyv settles a bit more down into the bits of mane that reach back to where he's sitting, and volunteers his own answer to the unicorn: "As I understand it, the City is one of several Callios creatures living on this construct, which I suppose is a sort of intentionally-created planet. Intentionally created by whom, nothing's yet said. There's literal water on the construct, which is subject to tides, but the tides are over a length of centuries or millennia rather than hours, and... perhaps not caused by a moon. But I would suspect whatever causes them is only near enough to do so at those times, every... she said ten thousand years, as I recall? and when it's farther away the water rushes back instead of being drawn away. When this 'Conjunction' ends and the tide returns in a couple hundred years, it will cover the place this Callios has been captured, and she'll be able to leave on her own, if she hasn't been freed beforehand."

The Fennec sits and endures. Even as a critter he somehow has that lazy windblown look to him doesn't he? When Vyv looks at the clarification of supernova Bax squints an eye offering, "It's not like a regular nova with a cape. Like when things collapse like that it's like taking a deep breath, but then things get too close together and push out really damn fast. Implosion creates conditions for an explosion or... maybe the pieces get pulled into the middle real fast and they're coming out the other side. I dunno. I forget." There's a pause and the eyebrows go down. "I started drawing in class and fucked off after that."

The fennec-Bax looks down partially regretting that for the moment s Itzhak and Vyv form the team's needed questions into coherent direction. Sharp, button eyes though catch the end of the cat's tail languidly flickering there. Yup. Focus now there. Ears go flat but easier to clean so not so bad. Looking up he tilts his head, "That looks like the copy I borrowed. That's the one." A little proud of himself he tells Itzhak, "I can teach you what I've been leaning if you want. Astropathy is important if you are going to work in space and want to be on time for your shift and stuff."

The unicorn can't exactly gag in this form, but he flings his head back, making a hilariously awful face: velvety lips peeled back from his teeth, jaws wide open, tongue flopping out. He shakes his head rapidly, ears flopping, skin shuddering all along his back. Well, that'll cure him of nibbling things in here! No doubt why the books taste like that in the first place. Too many herbivorous customers who like to taste-test the product.

It takes him a minute to get over that, rubbing his nose along one foreleg and lashing his tail in annoyance. Stupid stinky books! See if he'll honor them with chewing on them anymore!

"UGH," he remarks, when he's finally able to talk again. "...I'm a mover." Then, realizing the assistant librarian might not know what Gray Harbor's private slang is, "A mahker." In Yiddish it means 'someone who makes things happen'. With the way people on this side of the Veil interpret various languages, it should get the idea across, at least that's his theory. "I can't mess with the molecules directly, only kinetically." He looks over his shoulder at Grant and Vyv. "'course I want you to teach me," he says to Grant, and swivels an ear at Vyv's explanation, looking back to the librarian. "Yeah. That's what I mean. Is it water, or is it 'water'?"

Leftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleft the shoe-sized fennec's eyes dart following the pages in a blur, paw raised to stuff between the pages when he spots it.... nopenopenopenopenopenope not yet... is his tail wiggling to counterbalance his head moving back and forth rapidly? Of course. Here's to hoping he doesn't fall off the unicorn. There's a euphemism for the gentry.

"Startlingly, actually," Vyv replies, "but suspiciously more and more, yes." He watches the page turning, adding absently, "I know more or less what a supernova is. I've not heard of a hyper-nova before. And yes, I presume it neither has a cape nor too many cups of sugared coffee." The tail makes a long, slow swish. "I wasn't actually assuming a spheroid. I don't have a word aside from 'planet' for... something in space massive enough to sustain ecosystems of life, with an atmosphere, and not appearing to be some sort of ship or space station as Earth science fiction would have one define them. Spherical, flat, icosidodecahedronal, non-Euclidian, whatever. And as long as I'm not drinking or swimming in it, anything that covers portions of a planet-like thing, has predictable tides, and apparently sustains life within it and in the land surrounding is close enough to water to qualify. I suppose it could be liquid anything, but my point was more that what information we have suggests it acts more or less like water as we know it, so it probably isn't a supernova itself." A strange, feline shrug, "Unless languages are translating in a manner that doesn't fully correlate. It seem unlikely everyone we run in to out here would be actually speaking English. ...with occasional touches of Italian and the like."

He might or might not have more to say about any of these things if Grant's... tail... weren't wiggling and wiggling and wiggling like that. It's distracting. The blue eyes get drawn there like it's some kind of magnet (okay, rather less subtly than they usually are), and track the movement here... there... here... there... before a paw comes up lightning-fast and down again, trying to catch and pin it like prey.

Grant is watching watching watching and then there's such a face that is startled. Brain overloaded with all teh things at once converge on the dude from elation of finding the page, shoving his hand in the book, and getting his tail smooshed all at the same time. One eye gets very large and the other very small not unlike unexpectedly sitting on a very cold toilet seat. There's the smallest yip that is so high pitched it earns a throat clear to regain some dignity. "I-!" Deep breath, "I found it." Now the sloooow pan back to cat-Vyv like really dude?

"Guys!" the unicorn says, pinning his ears at the small animals about to tussle on his back. "Do I have to separate you two? Stay focused, we're trying to learn something heah."

This from the animal that just tried to eat a book. He rolls a dark eye at the assistant librarian. Kids, amirite? "Right, I don't alter 'em, not like some people can. I just make them move." Then, the assistant says he'll fetch the librarian, THE Librarian, and the unicorn says, "Uh, okay, yeah, we'll wait here." WON'T WE, tiny fox and cat that shall not be named?

"I'm perfectly focused," Vyv blatantly lies, though in the sort of crisp, definite tones that might make a less self-confident listener start to question his own judgement and memory. Granted, the paw still pinning the end of Fennec Bax's tail to the Itzhakorn's back doesn't wholly support his claim, but to be fair, he doesn't seem to be paying that much attention to it now that it's still.

So apparently, yes. Really, dude.

"Going into storage won't store us or be the sort of situation where we'd be best served going in with fourteen sherpas, myriad crampons, and about three miles of rope, yes?" Sure, it's probably just where books are kept. But something about this place makes him faintly paranoid about turns of phrase. "But yes. Here should do. Thank you."

Grant is the one wincing with his paw in the pages, "I'm the one who is focused here! Lookit." He smooths it out. Volume five? "Sounds about right." He sticks a tiny pink tongue out at Vyvcat. The real answer is yes, Itzil. Very possibly. Looking to the assistant librarian he doesn't add anything else until after he leaves.

Looking back to Vyv his head tilts, ear flicks, with a look of really?. "I'm so hoping they don't try to make clones of us again. I really don't want to be stuffed into the book deposit" There's a rueful pause, "Especially since I'm pretty sure I'll fit in the slot." Looking to Itzhak he complains, "Why is it every time I'm a damn fox someone's standing on my tail? Feh, not that I mind. Why would I? It's just an appendage."

"Pull the other one, it's got bells on," the unicorn says to Vyv-cat. He totally learned that from Dante. But hey, Vyv has what is quite a sensible question, about them not being stored, and then Bax is kvetching and the unicorn, who can't laugh in this form, shakes his mane. "You want me to apologize? 'cause you're gonna be disappointed."

He's got his head turned, watching the two little fuzzballs sitting on his back with cranky amusement, when he catches the scent of the Librarian. His eyes roll white, he snorts in alarm. Predator. Not just any predator, either. He swings his horn around to point at the great beast, his ears back, his tail clamped to his butt. "....y-yeah," he gets out, faced with conflicting sensory input. A monstrous creature, smelling like several different kinds of meat-eater, politely enough offering to help them find their book. "Uh, if--if you could, that'd...be, yeah, that'd be super helpful?"

He's TRYING.

"What, just on the one? That's unbalanced even by Morris dancer standards," the Vyv-cat retorts. Feline eyes narrow at the fox-tongue sticking out, ears tilting back a bare fraction. Maybe the answer is yes. On the other paw, the whole thing is otherwise ignored with slightly exaggerated dignity as he turns his attention pointedly to the (assistant) librarian. Not that he releases the tail in the meantime.

That answer is, in fact, not wholly reassuring in any particular, except maybe the 'unless you'd like to' specification. He would not like to, thank you. "I am not standing on your tail," he informs Bax a touch absently, looking the way the Assistant disappeared, "I'm merely holding it still so it stops thrashing around." Not that his own is still, but it's just the tip twitching, where it hangs down along Itzhak's side. "...and I have no intention of any of us being either cloned or deposited either."

He may have had more to say. He almost certainly did, actually, but the arrival of the Librarian takes precedence. "Yes," he seconds, "Thorne and Burbidge's Guide to Interstellar Constructs. Fifth edition, it would seem."

Grant flattens his ears squinting a beady look back to Itzhak. Feh, fine. But not it's the stand off with Vyv, and it doesn't help that Vyv has some sort of catlike aloof dignity and Bax is as threatening as a viscous squeaky toy. As if to illustrate the point just the tip of the tail swishes now. Spite swish.

Ears flick forward as the sound comes around as the LIbrarian comes up and boy do those brown eyes dilate. It's really hard to tell impressed from Omgomgomg can I ride you? Just around the periodicals and back?. "Hooooo-leeee shiiiit... You are impressive!" Yup it's the later. Where this willpower comes from who knows. It may or may not be his tails is still pinned down keeping him from moving. His ears fold back again when Vyv mentions they're not getting deposited. Not again.

Once is three times too many.

"That. Yes. Please. Love your library. Big fan. Thank you for helping us. Are you doing fall internships by chance?"

The unicorn, for reasons he doesn't understand, hates that the Librarian disapproves. For more reasons he doesn't understand, he can read her body language just fine, coming across like she'd spoken to him, except...different. More primal. Deeper. A human can say words they don't feel at their core, but the Librarian, just moving in a few particular ways, communicates to him very, very clearly that she thinks he's an idiot.

Sure not something he's used to. He's bad at reading body language usually!

Sidling, huffing, he tosses his head, then makes an effort to settle the hell down. This form makes him flighty, turns all his reflexes up to 11, turns all his reactions to fight or flight. The Librarian is on his side--he is wild and free, she is his protector. (Something else he doesn't know why he understands. Who knew that being a unicorn came with all this weird nuance?)

One ear comes up, then the other, then his tail relaxes into a swish. Docile as if the Librarian was a barefoot maiden in some primeval forest, he follows her, step after step.

"You're very beautiful," he hazards, apologetically. "I just, I'm not so used to uh, the whole, unicorn gig."

Tail-tip twitches beget tail-tip twitches, or rather, swishes get swishes, small and low. Vyv does not give in to any temptation he might have to catch that bit with another paw -- or his teeth -- but he certainly doesn't move the one that's in place. And whether it's necessary or even useful or not, the pressure IS a little firmer when then Librarian proper arrives. Might be a hint of the reaction behind the composure. May simply be sufficient experience with Bax to suspect restraint beyond self- might be required. The exclamation doesn't seem to come as a shock, at any rate, though it does get a sidelong glance and a mild flattening of the ears. The latter increases a good couple degrees at the internship question, but he keeps his sharp-toothed little mouth shut on the matter for the immediate moment. Not that their speech right now owes particularly much to mouths as it is.

A small, too-human nod to the mention of storage, and he settles his weight slightly more, preparing to ride the unicorn(!) after the Librarian as Itzhak settles himself and begins to follow her. She will consider, though? "The membership forms seem to define their time periods based on those of the member's planet," a flicker of a glance the way the Assistant disappeared, "or equivalent structure. Would an internship be delineated similarly, then?"

Grant kneads with front paws, one then the other and back again, aback the unicorn. When she says she'll consider his ears perk up. Someone's pleased. "Oh, using Yggdrasil would make things faster to get to. This makes sense." As for the tail it's usually always a good call. Not looking before he leaps would suggest Bax ever bothers to look at all. The fox-Bax sits. Ahhhh the wonders of the world(s). Of all the people from the Harbor that have gotten forever lost in the veil it's a wonder Grant's never been on a milk carton. Looking back to the cat he says "We might be able to volunteer." Ears go up and then there's a pause. "Itzil, please stop hitting on my maybe future boss before I yell Heeya man, you know, if that's not too much."

He may ot know what's happening but his ears droop to the side and back. Wait declined what/ Shit! He was not paying attention. His chin dips down for a moment and picks back up, "We're trying to trans-locate some people off a faulty construct and found a new one that is serviceable in- yes thanks, Vyv- in that volume. Ummm Now we're looking for the book on the construct in how to do it and, I dunno if there's paperwork or something or if they can like just go or...?"

"I'm not hitting on her," Itzhak hisses, one ear lying back. "I can call a lady beautiful without hitting on her! ...okay maybe a LITTLE I am." What can he say, he's got a thing for the predatory wild ones, even the ones he's worried will eat him. Especially those.

Then both ears come up as he looks at the stunning door, picks his way past it, through the Employees Only door. Oooh back of house. His favorite place! "Don't touch anything," he repeats, which for him is easy, actually, because all the books taste like skunkweed and he doesn't have clever little paws to use.

"I'm really not sure we need to move them entirely off that construct. My impression is there's nothing wrong with it per se, they just didn't know how to handle things when the tide went out. Bar setting up a city on the back of a kidnapped creature." Does it count as kidnapping? Involuntary confinement of a sort, at the least. "We should first see if the maps can show us anywhere suitable on that one; surely that should be simpler to arrange than finding and getting everyone to an entire other construct or planet or whatever it might be." He'd gesture vaguely if he had hands instead of paws right now; as it is, there's a slow sweep of the tail.

As far as hitting on librarians, he has no particular care whether Itzhak does or doesn't, as long as it doesn't interfere -- and it doesn't seem to be, so far. By contrast, the remark on the forms has his ears shifting in a way that suggests lifted brows. "Do they? Which bits are inaccurate? Do members receive updates? Surely one isn't assumed to have already agreed to any changes made after one's signed." He's fairly sure the form didn't say that. And while, usually, any temptation to touch things would likely be both mild and passing, something about being instructed not to -- twice -- in this form rather gives him the urge to find something on the edge of a shelf or counter and push it the rest of the way off. Still, he resists, just a couple quicker twitches of his tailtip hinting it was there at all.

Grant is being good! The hilarity is that his sunning in a circle on Itzhak's back and laying his ears back and low to lay on his 'hands' is not at all because of any sort of fox inclinations. He'd really be doing the same and sitting on his hands or jamming them in his pockets. The small whines of interest of the OOoOohhhh variety are all pure Baxter.

His eyes flit to Vyv asking about consequences and the ends of his ears get low withthe reality that something something consequences, and also speaking enough Vyvlish to know what's really not being said between the Chef and the Librarian. He lays down aback the equine, chin on hands, and tail on Vyv's and some gesture there of maybe staying put or also trying to remind him he's not really a cat don't knock things off shelves, but likely the silent third thing.

Large brown eyes watch the horned sorter-of-knowledge. "Thank you. For helping us. We'll respect your things."

"I can make light. I can do that too." The unicorn is now trying to impress the Librarian? Maybe. He steps over the threshold--and snorts, surprised and delighted. His long loooong tasseled tail flips back and forth. "Oh wow look at that," he breathes, following along. "It's like that part in Interstellar!" Sort of? He twists his head to address Vyv and Grant. "Don't fall off, guys. Hang on my mane if ya gotta, it don't hurt."

Vyv is not about to admit how cute Grant's 'behaving' attempts are, but that doesn't mean they aren't, and it's still slightly unsettling, though perhaps a bit less than huge horned wolf-lady librarians. Which he is also still going to pretend aren't. Being (probably) right, though, is not in the least. Still, the faint satisfaction in that would probably not be edging into a sort of feline smugness if it weren't for him in fact being feline right now.

That space they enter, though, is a capital-D Distraction. The blue eyes widen, ears tilting and turning to take in the murmurs and creaks that float through the air, and he resettles himself carefully on Itzhak's back, against Grant and curling his tail around the fox this time. He can't help having his gaze caught by the movement of dangling bookshelves and ropes, or the glint of the eyes below. He doesn't try to actively hold on to the mane just yet, but there's another small shift of weight that suggests being more careful than before. "...this space is magnificent. About how many books are in here?" If he noticed the lack of reply as to the form, it can apparently wait a bit.

Grant takes a deep breath aaaaaand sighs. Behaving sucks, but learning how to safely operate a space library is cool and he doesn't want to blow his internship. Potentially. There a slight yawn that word as a yes, to Itzhak as he stays laying flat in a shoe sized fox-ball on Itzilorn trying not to prance around the confined space. "10-4, bubbeleh." He trusts the dude to walk. Eyebrow arches as he's exceedingly warmer one side with a cat there, but he settles down. There's a faint grin as he can feel the attention in Vyv shift as they enter the space while he, himself, tries to take it in. "Vee, you can read it all, but one at a time." Still there's so much to look at and in the quietest of voices he whispers, "We can just move here and no one ever has to knooooow. Yo, my dudes, look up"

The unicorn, eager to impress, bows his head to clack his horn against one front hoof. His horn and his cloven hooves all begin to glow, leaving ribbons of glittery light behind them as he moves. It's a decent amount of light. "That ain't exactly what I meant to happen," he says pensively, "but it's super fuckin' cool. I can't look up yet, Bax, you enjoy it for me, yeah?" He's busy focusing on picking his way down the stairs, tasseled tailtip flipping back and forth. Then his ears flatten. "Several million?" Now even he's thinking about the possibilities of moving in here along with the rest of the squatters. "Well we'd never be bored!"

Twitch. Twitch. It's only the very tail-tip, but the fox it's wrapped around and the unicorn it lies against can almost certainly feel that little motion. All the suppressed excitement and temptations to go explore this further, to hunt through the millions -- several millions -- of unearthly volumes stored away here leaking quietly out through an appendage he's never had enough time and experience of owning to tame to full behaviour. None at all, in fact, and dealing with the instincts that seem to come with the form is odd, even if they're surely far weaker than if he weren't still himself in there.

Himself does quite want to read it all, though.

"I doubt they've much of a kitchen," he murmurs, ostensibly back to Bax, though partly to himself as well. There are reasons not to get lost in the stacks.

He does look up again, this time focusing on it longer, the way things move up there, both alive and presumably not. Is it safe to assume, when they're Veil books? "Several million," he echoes, half under his breath, just about in time with the Itzakorn, and agrees a bit louder, "No, I somehow doubt we would." And he's probably even thinking more about the books than those sets of eyes and the admonition to be on their guard, still.

Given the remark on the budget, he closes his own eyes for a moment, focusing his will, and when he reopens them they glow like-- well, like a cat's in the dark, only more so. The 'more so' of the glow rises from them and forms together into an orb of light, floating upward to hover above them, adding to the librarian's lantern and the glory of the unicorn's horn and hooves. It darts short distances in place, like a firefly in a jar, as though it wants to follow Vyv's attention each place it lands but is somehow restrained.

Grant has been given a task! He starts citing what he can see in the up up upness. It's hard though with the unicorn's giant head in the way. As he clears the tiny painter goes eyed eyed, "You ever see Willy Wonka? If that and Magorium had a baby it would never be so bad ass looking." There's small details with keen eyes picked out about titles he might be the only one immediately caring about them the titles noting, what foods they smell like and then? They are all walking downstairs again. Joy. He strains his neck almost slipping off the back of the unicorn. Instead his turning bring s him face to face withthe rather curious cat who gets licked from nose all the way up to between the ears.

Retribution, yo.

Turning back around he asks, "How'd you become a librarian? Is it possible when one is ready to retire off planet can one become one? Do you live longer in the library because the tree's not tied to any singular sol cycle?" He pauses and blinks to Vyv at answering the distant anxiety, "We need a retirement plan. This sounds more fun than Palm Beach."

"Wow," the unicorn mutters. "Sure wish I could look at it." Funny, sometimes Itzhak seems to yell at Grant a lot, and right now he isn't. Right now the unicorn is proud of him. Look at Grant, carpe-ing the diem! "Kitchen, no less? I dunno, guys, this is sounding like a solid retirement plan for youse." He's teasing, but only because it's inherently hilarious that smol cat and tiny fox want to live in an interdimensional library in their old age. It's just so them.

Light bobs and flashes from his horn and hooves as he steps off the last stair and on to the wide cracked dias. Somehow he fits in perfectly, the moss and hanging vines and overgrown signs framing him in lush ruin. It seems appropriate that a glowing unicorn (with two tiny friends, one of whom is also glowy) would come here. He picks up speed, crossing the dias at a trot, eager to see what they've come so far for.

"You should paint it," Vyv murmurs to Grant, and though he can see just fine from his vantage point, he listens to the rest of the descriptions as well, perhaps especially the bits about what foods various books smell like. "Might it help if we sat a bit farther b--" he starts to ask the unicorn, when he finds himself cruelly and ignominiously licked all up the face. Blue eyes narrow, ears folding back, and he places a paw firmly across the fox's neck, which both helps pin him in place so he doesn't fall off, and allows a few seconds of rather aggressive grooming of head and massive ears. Retribution in*deed*.

When the feline arrangement of his mind decides the point as been made and the human part points out this is not the most dignified revenge he's ever taken, he settles back into his own spot, giving one paw a delicate wash. At this rate he's liable to end up with a hairball, and I don't mean the fennec. There's interest in the information about the library, clear in the lift and tilt of the ears, and for all that he's not a natural seeker of danger, the assertion that they will see is intriguing. As is the idea of Veil Library retirement, as long as it's not particularly soon. "Well, I'd have to see the kitchen for myself, of course," he replies to his quadruped companions, the entirely serious tone managing to leave it wholly unclear whether it actually is.

From the way he gazes up at the stacks, however, it's possible he just might really entertain this potential long-term plan of Grant's, or at least investigating the feasibility. In the short-term, they have a book to find. "How are the books organized?" he asks, "You mentioned something about consulting a system?"

Being so damn proud of himself only goes so far as the idea of painting this wonder is cut short as he is squash-pinned down and thoroughly groomed. All four feet flail and slide until he resigns himself to defeat, brows furrowed, and glowering a look that reads: fine, you win. Le sigh. "Maybe..." he says trying not to be catty about losing what he started there, "if all goes well we can build one that serves all purpose. Help keep food and cooking volumes there. Cabinets I can kinda do. There's time to practice there."

"Uhhhh... Itzil?" He tries and manages to project to Itzhak's head an image of what he's looking at up up and -okay view's gone a bit. Well most of the scenery was shared in Rosenkrantz' mind for a more 3D view. Least he can do. A smile from squashed-fox widens as the librarian talks of imminent risk. "This seriously sounds like the best job ever. Battle bookworms like it's literary Arakkis." There are laser and light saber sound effects even if it's the totally wrong damn movie. Never a bad day to go full Jedi.

Hey, a damp alley full of weird things that want to suck you off? This is familiar territory! The unicorn squeals a challenge and, suddenly moving very fast, slashes his very long horn at the diving bag of guts. The glowing tip scratches the sagging belly as the light-eater veers over him. "Fuck off!" He dances in place, snorting, lashing his tail. Not making things very easy for smol fox and cat!

Vyv is definitely not going to complain about the potential of actually getting a kitchen tour as well once they've achieved their original aim. How like what he's used to IS a Veil kitchen? He really can't deny that spending a few years or so in an interdimensional library would certainly fall under the 'travelling' portion of his broad retirement plans. And the number of volumes in here is... "There can't be too many organic minds that could keep this much information sorted and tracked," he agrees, "though I'm somewhat surprised there isn't a more, mm, broadly understandable taxonomy as well--"

He breaks off, startled, as that Something swoops down and devours the Librarian's lantern, and does a fabulous job of showing just how indignant a cat can look as a second one heads for the glow that he controls. That is Vyv's personal light! The darting around increases, but he misjudges: the creature is faster and more agile than it appeared, and the light zigs when it should have zagged and disappears within that massive mouth, plunging the trio into further dimness. Thankfully Itzhak's lighting is rather more than the third one bargained for, or even feline eyes might start having trouble down here! As it is, he has to shift in what feels like an embarrassingly ungainly manner to make sure he doesn't lose his perch.

Grant is one smiling fox, but it's the eyebrows that go up up up that look at the cat like Seee? This could work out! His mirth is short lived as there's a flash of darkness from the main light and some froggie thing descends on Itzhak trying to take his horn off and the second -

Well the only other thing that need be known to him is there's something diving at Vyv and that ain't gonna cut it. The cat moves and before Grant can process it's going after the light and not hi more logical half the fennec is all speed and reaction timing, pounces, and is on that frog hanging on like a champ. Is there' a growl? Yes. Did ...did he just lick the Frog? Uhhh yeah in fact he did. Mind he's not trying to destroy anything in his wee tiny terror jaws, but he can get it to cough up the now second-hand belongings? Bonus.

Also uhhh where're we going? "Guys, I feel like I am flying this is trippy!!! This frog works REAL well."

"UGH!" the unicorn snorts, tossing his head, sending blood flying. "YOUR BOYFRIEND is a loon!" he snaps at Vyv, like this is somehow his fault, as he launches into a sprint after the Librarian and after Grant.

Vyv barely has time to be annoyed about losing his light -- wouldn't at all if he didn't have so much practice at being annoyed in general -- before that's fully subsumed by catching the way the fox has leapt and the landing on the back of the flying thing. "Bax!" he exclaims, immediately wincing at the terrible noise, ears folding down as if to try to keep it out and head lowering below hunched shoulders.

He stretches upward again to try to follow the flight of the panicking frog-bird, and promptly nearly falls over from a combination of his 'steed' going into a sprint and the force of that smell. It's a good thing -- well, from his point of view, anyway -- that the way they talk in these forms doesn't actually depend on mouths and vocal cords that aren't made to create those sounds, because he takes a big bite of mane, jaws locking around the hair to keep himself in place. Cat-balance handles the rest, though the sense of tiny pinpricks against unicorn flesh is just enough to suggest an alternative solution just averted.

The cat's hackles rise a bit further at the snapping, though any declaration of lack of loon-ness is perhaps held off by the licking of the creature, and the remark about feeling like flying gets a near-silent sigh. So instead of any verbal response to that, there's a crisp and stern, "That is mine. Put him down," in the flying-thing's direction, boosted with Glimmer in an attempt to make the creature accede to his demand and bring the fox back -- or at least land at floor level and let him off. How complicated can that mind be? And it does, at least, appear to be deciding that the latter isn't such a bad idea.

Grant has his moments. Its it stupid/ Maybe. What registered is Thing flying at his dude with its mouth open. He is a blur of reaction before that thing can get closer and he has launched. There's a need to protect one's things and people that is instinct.

Feet launch, and paws and jaws hold on. It is a wild ride with a growl that promises he will think of something if the frog does not leave them...alone...or something. The creature, compelled, sort of squat slam lands and with the impact Grant-Fox flips off but lands, four on the floor, shoulders , rail and ears low as if staring down the loam flavoured frog. Eyes narrow and he half turns, still watching the frog in warning . There's a pause and finally he turns and runs on a blur of blonde legs to catch up. He headbutts the unicorn's foreleg and tries to run up the path a bit and stops. He's so going to get stepped on by an equine this way.

"I'm gonna say this once... the book is definitely better than the movie. This place has everything."

"You're gonna give ya pop a heart attack!" The unicorn is in full Jewish mother mode. "How am I supposed to explain that his only son rode a bat to his death, as a fox?!" So he gets to do two of his favorite things, kvetching and fighting, at once! He skids to a stop, rearing so he doesn't step on the fantastic Mr. Fox.

It's not quite the compliance Vyv might have hoped for, but it's good enough. Itzhak can likely feel the small body riding on his back relax slightly when Bax is relatively-safely on the ground, even if it tenses again when the Librarian leaps at and kills the flying thing. Not that he bears any notable sympathy for it just now, but-- it seems a good job she's on their side. May this remain so.

"You are all right, though," he doesn't-exactly-ask the fox, just to be sure, but the running about seems like a good enough answer. "Do not lick the denizens," he adds, "I don't fancy explaining that one, either." The mess that's been created makes him sigh as he looks it over, but the urge to put things back is stymied by the fact that he hasn't the foggiest idea where any specific item might actually belong.

"Perhaps you could use lights to lure them into traps," he muses, drawn from contemplating that by watching the Librarian's light divide and multiply and settle into the lamps. "What are they, aside from filth? How've they ended up in here to begin with?" He's not entirely thrilled with the dust and cobwebs, but at least his current perch minimizes the contact therewith. "...I take it they generally have the place to themselves. Lovely mosaic, though."

Grant is low on the ground, all four paws wide and shoulders down and ears back. He's like a fluffy football of fury and yips at the frog thing being thrown asunder by the Librarian. He hops, "You try to attack my man I will absolutely beat a motherfrogger with another motherfrogger!" Yup. He's fine. Threat gone he stands up again and rubs the size of his muzzle with the side of his arm and tests his limbs out.

Walking back he answers Vyv and Itzil, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Oy gevalt, don't plotz. Tell him I was a space fox and helping people out with a legal issue and he'll be fiiiiine... except for the me being dead part. I mean I am really good at being a ghost I...just don't wanna be?" He does wade back by the Unicorn tho. Padding over he looks up at the cat apologetically. The ears go down and he looks around and back. "Traps are good. UhhhI might not have read the whole contract," or any of it, "Anyhting other than not letting things touch other things we need to know that we can assist with in a capacity still covered by the Library's insurance?" Yup, his father's a lawyer.

Finally he asks Vyv, "You alright? it tried to bite you." Observation made and determined absolutely not okay.

UGH silverfish GROSS! The unicorn paws the ground, ears going flat. "Vyv! I'm goin' in!" is all the warning the cat gets before the unicorn charges, launching himself horn-first at the rather oversized silverfish. That, if successful, this will wind him up with a silverfish monster stuck to his face hasn't yet occurred to him.

It's hard not to be at least a little pleased by someone threatening motherfroggers with other motherfroggers on one's behalf, particularly as it's reasonably good evidence that yes, Bax is indeed just fine. "We'd also prefer you not be," he says, fairly confident he can speak for any reasonable definition of 'we' on that front. There's a hint of smile in the tone as he adds, "And yes, I'm fine, thank you."

The mentioned lack of cleanliness has him both contemplating plans to deal with it and eyeing the area around them in continued agreement and possibly search of any other pests -- which he doesn't end up having to search very hard for, when they reach that cul-de-sac. His hackles rise, ears folding back and a surprised hiss escaping at the sight of the massive... silverfish?! Itzhak's warning is just enough to let him leap off before the charge -- to an empty spot on the shelf if he spots one near enough, and to the floor if not -- and he tries to send an electric shock to the nearest of the bugs. "The books!" None of this is proper library etiquette!

Grant is on the ground. His head shakes with a flap of his ears that almost sounds like the shuffling of cards. he finds the cat and looks him over for 'okay' vs. 'cat okay'. There's some sort of pride in the scrappy fennec's posture that is relieved and taking credit for that. And then there's the warning. "Shitshitshit people need to know that stuff!" As if shuffling his feet on proverbial carpeting the fennec starts bolting towards the bugs with a halo of sparks forming around him. Is he yelling Jolteon? Yes. Yes he may just be. Is he trained to fight giant centipedey things? Nah, but that's not stopped him from trying with great gusto. Itzil said silver right? Silver's a metal and therefore lightening is about to get 'funner' (he really hasn't paid attention to what makes a good conductor and what doesn't... or that the bugs are organic and not metal at all.)

"GAAAAH! Oh my fucking God GROSS!" Itzhak has some regrets. Doing a prancy dance of disgust, he dips his head and tries to paw the thing off his horn. His horn is longer than the reach of his leg and this is not going to work. Tail lashing furiously, he bounces in place. "Vyv, Bax, sound off, you okay?!" Even with a silverfish monster stuck to his face he's ready to charge in and do some more damage if tiny fox and smol cat are in danger.

Vyv has some regrets too, but leaping off of the unicorn before that impact and the blood and thrashing is definitely not one of them. Not once that scent hits his currently feline and even more sensitive than usual nose. Neither is the fact that his lightning seems to be effective. He manages to get Itzhak an exceedingly distracted, "I'm unharmed," but 'regret' probably isn't the right word for his feelings about even that slight bit of electricity flowing back to spike Grant's fur, and it definitely isn't for the sight of that silverfish starting to march toward the little fox, let alone trying to bite him! He hisses again, this one far less surprised and more like he means it, and tries to head that creature off with another blast of mental electricity. "Do not!"

Fennec-Bax teas across the floor of the under library at the wicked cool, but very unauthorized in the restricted section, big big bug. "Jooool-Teee-ACK! " he almost shorts out crashing into the edge of the case, checks his trajectory, and tries that again with a slight break in his voice, "Jolteoooon!" And a cage of static and lightening starts to build around him. It's supposed to be a beam right? A ray of electricity? a bolt of lightening? Eeeh it should but that's not what happens. Barely a hold of the glimmer around him trying to keep up the electricity explodes away from him pulling his fur in every direction like a short-haired punk rock Pomeranian. There's a yelp but enough of that faraday cage smacks into the silverfish in front of him causing it to pull all of its feet back.

The unicorn, snorting in fury, promptly tramples the living daylights out of the silverfish trying to claw at his legs. Crunch. Splat. He's well-bathed in its weird funky ichor now. "So you say you got PEST PROBLEMS?" he says to the Librarian in the most Yiddishly offended tones he can manage.

Vyv's fur stands up a fair bit too, though more with anger than static; even so, his next bolt flickers along his sides like lightning within a thundercloud before it shoots free. Maybe that actually charges it up somehow -- or maybe it's a matter of that silverfisher's apparent goal -- but that zot that it ends with is even more powerful than the one before, a decidedly vehement thing. He only has a moment to be satisfied (okay, a bit triumphant) about that defense before he sees the first one heading his way once more; lightning's worked well enough that he gives it another try. Well, that and the fact that hand to hand (paw to limb?) is highly unlikely to go his way, and trying to smash it with books or bookcases seems counterproductive.

Grant jabs a paw at the bug that falls dead in front of him that Vyv finished off. "That's right! Don't you look at his man like that." The fox posture's up as if trying to start something with the carcass. Overtop the sparking back he looks up and with a run up the dead thing he jumps at the new threat (to him). "Remember, don't stab the books, goo on the books, bleed on the books cause it might summon a thing I saw it in a movie once, and doooo not let the buggos eat them." These reminders are likely all for himself to keep in mind as he barrels into the thing sparking and planless.

The unicorn wants nothing so much right now as to find a hot bath. He's covered in gross icky silverfish goop and his mood is thoroughly spoiled. Shaking his mane, sending driplets flying, he snorts in aggravation. "This place is a mess! Youse guys need way better funding. I know a lady who could throw you the fundraiser of ya dreams." Whether or not said fundraiser would produce the corrent kind of currency... Itzhak doesn't sweat the details. "Thanks for your help." He turns enormous dark eyes on the Librarian. "Listen, if you ever need a fiddler Maestro, you know who to call, yeah? They call me the Laughing One. Owe ya a solid. And that includes that hot Assistant of yours."

Then the mirrored surface tension of reality bloops closed over him and tosses him back out the other side and he's a man again, though a man who looks and smells like he lost a fight with a jar of menthol gel.

That's right indeed! Vyv's not a big fan of them looking at him like that, either, to tell the truth, but try to attack his man and he will absolutely zot a motherfisher with another-- okay, lightning bolt. Close enough. "I've no plans to bleed on anything," he mutters as he looses that last bolt, and his fur begins to settle back down into proper sleekness as the thing curls up into a nice, final-looking ball.

"Do not," he repeats toward the sparking corpses, crisp and faintly satisfied, and looks to first make sure that Bax is unhurt, then Itzhak, before looking back to the Librarian and picking his way delicately after her, careful not to step in any ichor or similar goo as he tries to follow the arrangement of the books on the shelves. From the empty space, he follows her look toward the wreckage as well, and sighs when she identifies it as indeed the one they wanted. "Oh, well, of course. How long--" He breaks off at that sensation, his own eyes widening a bit. Are they going to have to summon the place again now?

Which makes it an odd sort of relief when she boxes them up clearly to-go, even if they're flying through the air and-- continuing to do so as the world resolves to normality. Well, mostly normality. "Thank you for the assistance!" is all that he gets out before he's back in human form and the usual world, blinking at what's happened to the Sweet Retreat's wall. It draws a breath of a laugh, despite or maybe because of the rest of the situation, as he checks the state of his companions. "I think," he decides, "we ought to see what we can do about that book. And perhaps shower. Elsewhere. And right around now."

Bax is totally going to pounce the thing, though when it falls he takes a hop back before it lands and squashed fox-Bax. Riiight. Yeah, you heard the man. Do not. There's some pride there in Vyv that slowly fades at the Librarian's disappointment. He looks, wide-eyed in horror as she pulls up scraps. There goes the eyebrows. Running over he skids to a halt looking fantastically dismayed. Is that a lip wibble? Don't judge! This is the fate and future of a lot of people! Crushed. He's crushed like someone hit his cat with a car in front of him.

He watches the Librarian collect the 'things' back together that were once whole. And then there's a box a bit bigger than he as the room starts to go white. Grant backs up and leaps up to chest and the weight carries the fennec back, and back, until it's Grant landing on his ass on the pavement out back of the Sweet Retreat. There's a deep breath and his hair is still windblown to hell and back standing mostly on end. Hugging the box, having caught it he takes a deep breath and says "Well..I guess... we better get good at puzzles." he murmurs thoughtfully. "Sparrow's good at em. I'm gonna need to..to ask her. You guys alright?" Looking to both of them he checks and nods approving, "You're alright. And amazing. Fuckin... both of you. Thanks."