"All that glitters is not gold, but all that is pure most certainly is."
The Dark Ages are over. Camelot has been lost. Killahead is scattered. Those that remember recall bright days filled with the laughter of young boys, one with a crown on his he...
"Books are the universe's keys to the locks that hide forbidden secrets."
"If yer lookin' for the mythological section, it's over 'ere," Tyler calls to the wandering stranger from his usual spot, nose buried in his textbook. "Geographical locations are on the other side of the shelf."
The strange man sighs in slight relief, plodding over with eager interest to roam the shelves.
"Thank you, dear boy," he says, and the student raises a brow. That's rather formal language for this era.
"Me name's Tyler Reynolds, sir," he introduces offhandedly. He does have a pre-calculus test to study for.
"Ah!" the man exclaims, "My name is Mr. Blinky."
He stares up at him for a few moments, a cold and calculating glint in his eyes. His posture shifts to a more dominating position and the air around him practically vibrates with superiority. It's almost as though he's become a predator that's cornering its prey.
"If ye don't mind me askin', sir, what're ye doin' 'ere?" Tyler folds the corner of his page to mark his place. "Visitors need a pass an' ye don't look like yer from 'round town."
The man shifts under the intense gaze of the youth, mumbling quiet nonsense while wringing his hands. Surely, he should be able to stand his ground in front of this mere teenager. But something about him just speaks power.
"Here."
He blinks in confusion as he finds a book being handed to him. Was he not being subtly threatened a few moments ago?
"If yer looking for somethin', ye gotta start somewhere," the boy offers what might be a small smile. "If yer just need information, I see no reason in depriving ye of it."
"Why," he starts, taking the book into his own hands, "thank you, Tyler."
The amber-eyed boy snorts with apparent amusement, returning his attention to the textbook in his hands. But not without flashing a sharp half-smile at the stranger.
"The pleasure's all mine."
《《》》
"Which do ye reckon is more accurate," Tyler lifts his eyes over the pages of his textbook to look at the man surrounded by books, "Norse mythology or Celtic mythology?"
Mr. Blinky appears quite taken aback, as his book falls from his hands. "Whatever do you mean?"
He shrugs halfheartedly, his gaze drifting downwards to the pages. "Someone's gotta be right. 'Sides, where'd it all come from?"
His companion pauses for a moment, deep in thought. "It is quite possible that neither are right, Tyler. Myths and legends come from people interpreting things differently. Say, a strange looking wave may have brought about the idea that dragons exist."
The boy frowns slightly as he chuckles, a bit disappointed by his answer. He'd been hoping for something much grander. That being said, he knew it was bound to happen at some point.
"Thank ye, for shootin' down me hopes an' dreams," he snorts with sarcasm, ruffling his book pages before returning to them. "I do still believe in some of 'em, though."
"And why would that be?"
Tyler sighs, placing his textbook on the table. "Sometimes ye can just feel it. Like static or mist in the air but ye just can't quite see it. I don't know 'ow else to describe it. I just feel it in me gut."
Mr. Blinky stares at him for a second or two, almost studying him. But not subtle at all, despite how hard he tries.
"It's somethin' in the way the wind blows on a dull day, an' 'ow the woods come alive at night," the young boy exhales, leaning against the back of his chair as he relaxes, mind travelling further than he has in his whole life. "Or perhaps it's to do with the wildflowers that grow in a graveyard, the sound of music across the water. It just sits there as if waitin' for us to remember."
In his mind's eye, it's clear. The sunset alights the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange, painting with hues that he can only dream of. A broad grin is across his lips, and he knows that the lads next to him share a similar expression, caught up in the beauty of the evening. He can feel stone beneath him and his legs hang off the wall. Familiar senses of sparks warms his core, running through every inch of his body as he admires the gorgeous view.
"Are you quite all right?"
He blinks, the vision disappearing in front of him. He wants to cry out in loss, missing the piece of his past life.
The cold tear trail down his cheek goes unnoticed.
"Yeah," he says at last, waving off the elder man's concern. "Yeah, I'm good."
After that, he ignores the stranger, placing headphones over his ears to drown out his misery. The music helps a little, but the emotion cannot be hidden. He wants to hit himself. He wants to disappear back into his dreams.
Better falsity than reality, right?
Only sometimes.
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