Dust

Nineteen: Gwen Stevens

A/N: Gwen Stevens aesthetic. The next two chapters will have these for the other two flashback characters; they'll make sense soon.

The elevator dings to a stop as we reach the floor for the library, and as the doors slide open, all I can do is stare. If I've ever been in a massive room, this is it: the ceiling extends up so high that it probably takes up three stories; balconies and extended floors filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves are everywhere you look. Everything smells like coffee and books, (probably the best smell in the world) and I begin to wonder if I've died and gone to heaven. I turn to look at Kyros, an unstoppable smile frozen onto my face. The enjoyment in his eyes is obvious, and he watches in joy as I trot off happily into this wasteland of books.

"Nerd!" Callista calls after me, but she follows me anyway. On the far end of the library is a coffeeshop, of which I'm sure she will soon take advantage of. I could care less, there's books everywhere. Some are from authors that I've known about for years; others, I've never even heard of before. Either way, wherever I turn is a new series of books that I can't even stop to focus too long on.

"We have to be home in an hour," Mr. Riddick says, but Kyros quickly intercedes.

"I'll stay here with her. You can take Callie and we'll call a cab once she's done."

Mr. Riddick seems skeptical, but agrees as long as we're back in time for dinner. As as soon as Callie returns with four cups of coffee, we distribute the drinks and part ways. I plop myself down by on of the shelves and pick up a title.

"Ari, before you get too into this, you wanna start up at the top floor? The balcony up top has a pretty cool view," Kyros asks, helping me to my feet. I mean, I'm always game for cool stuff. He leads me through the endless shelves of books upon books, up a flight of stairs and around more of the maze. Focused only on my surroundings, I don't see the middle aged woman in front of me until I've crashed straight into her, sending books and journals flying everywhere. I land on the carpeted flooring with a thud, the soft material suddenly feeling not-so-soft. My coffee launches itself across the room, and I can't see where it lands.

Well. That's bad. Um...

Kyros starts apologizing profusely to both of us, trying to assist with anything he can. With a grunt of effort, the woman stands to her feet. Graying hair that used to be blonde is tied up into a neat bun on the back of her head, a pair of glasses slipping down her nose. Eyes as blue as the ocean hide behind those glasses, and a friendly smile spreads across her face. I immediately start picking up the books I knocked out of her grasp, replacing them onto her stacks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a janitor attend to my latte mess, and I manage to breath a sigh of relief.

"Sorry," I mutter sheepishly, and she waves me off as if nothing happened.

"It's alright. I wasn't paying attention, either."

I scoop up a few more titles off the floor, returning them to the woman's arms in record time. My hand lingers over a leather journal, and I hesitate to return it. I wonder what this book is? It's obviously not a published title, but why would she have someone's journal. Unless it's her own...

"That's the journal of one of the survivors. I was actually on my way up to type it up so we can publish it," she explains, noting my curiosity.

"Survivors?" I question, confused. Survivors of what? Surely not the world's destruction; that was centuries ago.

"Depends. Some are survivors of personal tragedy, others of fights with the Burning, and two or three..." she starts, trailing off. Scanning the two books under my arm, she leans forward slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Kyros approach slightly.