Chapter Text
> Somewhere far off…
“What’s botherin’ you, amigo?”
“Nothing that is ordinary, I’m afraid. Something had shifted the scales of fate, and however it was here holds no importance - it’s what it had brought here, who they are, and the fate of all of Gaia.”
“Visions gettin’ iffy again?”
“Even worse: they changed. It rarely changes and strays away from the three choices I was always presented with, unless an outside force interferes with these events. An outside force which…shouldn’t exist.”
“Like that one time?”
“Yes…like that time my mother had to shelter Paul away from orphanhood.”
“So…it ain't that bad, Walter. At least, for me it doesn’t seem to be one. What’s wrong about it?”
“A lot of things, and not simply the nature of this societal and authorial corruption. For one, I cannot recognize the figures by mere appearances.”
“Aren’t all of your figures like that?”
“Yes…but I always have to find out who or what are those things I see - by their colors, by their prowess, by the way they are as people. But, I do not recognize the type of people I have seen…if they are even people, or anyone humanity has ever encountered at all.”
“...what.”
“They have these colorful wings of birds and winged entities, and all of them have halos. The ending of my latest vision has me meeting one of a similar endeavor as I am - even if his nature is esoteric and his passion broader than my own.”
“Huh…seems like an interestin’ guy. Any assumptions ‘bout ‘im?”
“...I hope he can be trusted, and so are the other entities with him...”
“...and I hope he can go back home, before they seize his species entirely.”
> ???
Drowning. All he could feel was drowning.
His eyes blurred as it couldn't adjust itself into the faded waters around him. His wings felt heavy as it soaked upon liquids that muddled this clear fall. Most of all...he can't breathe. Something was stuck within his own throat, and yet it didn't feel like something was rushing to his lungs.
Red light shone above, obscured by the translucent, smoke-like displays that he can see. Yet, he can see the eyes of indiscernible colors which stared back at his so—
"Archive!"
A certain librarian with a pair of his wings resting on his back yelped in pure surprise as it felt its body falling down, crashing to the ground with the feeling of a wooden chair behind him. As it attempted to regain clarity, it realized he couldn't think straight at this moment, and yet he could feel his energy return to his own limbs and body.
He opened his eyes, barely adjusting to the lights above the ceiling, its head-wings obscuring its vision's edges...and a blurry silhouette white-furred woman with her wide eyes was seen staring right back at him.
...oh.
The woman chuckled, handing out her thick hands in white and bts of red and yellow to his own, thinner and more delicate ones. "Lemme 'elp ya there, pal!" She smiled gleefully, as if the recent incident was no serious discussion for her. The librarian in question simply smiled back upon instinct, grabbing onto her hand until he was pulled back up. As someone who was taller than her, he temporarily relied on her shoulders to regain his balance, before he was able to properly move. Finally, he took the chair he fell with, standing it up right beside his desk, and then dusting his own pants.
"Geez, Archive, ah thought yer more organized 'ere than dear sweet Ivory!" Chicken Leg whistled as she glanced at the messy desk: books are stacked on top of each other in a disorderly fashion, a few pens are off the pen holder and spread out of the desk instead, and papers with various handwritings on it are scattered across the surface area...
...and also the floor. The floor is always a victim to disorganization.
Archive chuckled awkwardly at the mess, admitting, "Apologies for my disorderly manners, Chicken Leg. I almost forgot to clean it up, and—OH NO!" He suddenly yelled out before Chicken Leg could tell him to calm down. His wings raised itself in panic as he started to move erratically. He rummaged around the public but secluded study area, placing back the books on its appropriate sections. He cleaned up the papers by putting it together, shoving a paper clip on its corner, and set it aside the now-cleaned up pen holder. He opened the drawer underneath the desk, and removed a pair of red glasses from it for usage.
Putting it on, he huffed. "I...have been tardy! Have the book club already ended?!"
His companion, however, simply chuckled at his minor demise. "Calm down, pardner!" Chicken Leg exclaimed, grabbing onto Archive's shoulders. "Sir, the kids are alright, my child's alright, but we can't start this place without ya. Plus, the time's still straight before the initial period, anyway. Goldie—yer Sentry—had your previous command runnin' or something, since it's the one greetin' the other arrivals at the front door, and Orbital's doin' great with yer nieces."
Archive's wings lowered, and he turned his head aside. His face-wings covered his gaze, and he was clearly distraught and...flustered? "...apologies for that. That was unlike me."
"Eh, got to the best of us, I'd admit," Chicken Leg declared. "Yet, you alright there, pardner? You looked like ya saw a ghost when I woke ya up."
Archive thought back on the nightmare he could vividly remember. The scrambling chaos, the drowning, the shift in colors...
...
...
"It was just a nightmare," Archive lied. "Having it for a long time now. I am accustomed to it, miss."
Chicken Leg frowned, especially as she was sure it wasn't something good. After all, she caught him grasp at his own chest when he was unconscious at his desk...and she only got him awake because she was checking out books near his area. Still, she decided not to intrude, even as a mother who sees this type of nightmares before—and as a concerned citizen of Pharadiso who was sure none of these are normal for a healthy angel.
Not that she'll said that concern out loud with confidence—her gear is literally junk food.
"So, would ya go with our thing now?" She declared, shifting the topic to a more light-hearted tone. "The kids are all there, by the way."
Archive, finally showing his face, smiled a bit. "Sure. We cannot keep them all waiting, especially your child."
Chicken Leg let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, ahm sure Pumpkin's doin' greater than great over there!"
> At the Book Club area...
Pumpkin was getting bored. Sooooo bored!
At this day of the club, they get to illustrate some scenes the others are writing, and then try to compose short and cute poems to improve their handwriting in turn! It was fun, even if this isn't comparable to the shenanigans they experienced in their school—that's what Notepad called their place as, anyways...whatever 'shenanigans' meant. However, because they're quick with things, they got bored quick after finishing it off earlier than the rest.
They really, really, REALLY want to share a book they found to everyone, especially Mister Archive! Sure, they got confused upon its origins or who could have wrote it, but they're a spawnling—they don't care about authors, but they do care about the pretty pictures within it! Even if they don't recall borrowing it from his library, they still have to share it—maybe it got caught with their stuff and fell in!
"Notepad, Notepad!" They jumped up and down at the aformentioned, dark-toned Pharadiser. Notepad in question was indeed taller than them, and older to boot, writing something on her gear. Her halo spun slowly around her left rabbit ear, and she was gnawing on her right ear out of habit.
"Oh?" Writer's Notepad finally noticed Pumpkin, stopping her gnawing entirely as well. "Hey there, Pumps! What got you here?"
"Do you like the pictures I made?" Pumpkin declared.
Notepad chuckled, showing a notebook she have with her containing Pumpkin's drawings—it was tucked nicely between the pages, gentle as to prevent it from crumpling. "Yes!" She answered gleefully. "It's childish, sure, but you got the descriptions of the two people I'm shipping correctly!"
Pumpkin tilted their head. "What is 'shipping'?"
"Uhh..." Notepad looked like she was sweating, when she distracted herself by seeing her sibling walking by. "Quill!"
The aformentioned kid was almost as old as Notepad, and in faded shades of blue and white instead. For some reason, they always cover their lower face, although that makes them cuter instead. Besides their wolf-like ears descending upon learned instinct, their own, little head-wings also lowered itself. Notepad simply turned their head gently to a side, as if asking what does their sister want.
"Did Mister Archive arrived yet?" Notepad inquired.
Upon seeing Quill nod and point to a direction, Notepad's face beamed. Pumpkin, however, was left behind. "What's up?" They asked.
Notepad simply turned around and said, "Quill stated that Mister Archive is coming!"
Pumpkin now joined in Notepad's squealing, even if they're still confused by how the siblings seemed to be able to understand each other—Quill to Notepad, they can comprehend easily. Notepad to Quill? The fact she can understand and correctly interpret their gestures are a mystery for the kid...
...and they hate mysteries, so they'll ignore it instead!
A few minutes of child-like chattering and running around the tables with the other kids and teens themself, Pumpkin finally heard of footsteps—two footsteps, in fact. They grinned widely as they ran off to a random place, and then dragging the sling bag containing their borrowed books...
AND the mysterious but pretty story as well!
"Mister Archive! Mister Archive!" They started running, wings wide as they brushed past Notepad and Quill...and then almost tripping upon a flat mat.
Keyword: almost, as a pair of familiar arms settled itself on their body before their face and their mask could hit the ground. Pumpkin looked up to see their mom with worry in her eyes, and they, understandably, pouted. "Mama!" They exclaimed. "Sorry I tripped..."
"It's okay, kiddo!" Mama Chicken Leg patted her child on the head, settling her to be standing up—and wings folded. Chicken Leg noticed the sling bag near Pumpkin, and then Pumpkin in turn noticed Archive near their mom.
"Mister Archive!" They started again. "I have something to share for you!"
The kind librarian chuckled, saying, "do not fret, Pumpkin. I will get to your books—and everyone else's—once we are done with our activities."
He then stood himself straight up, glancing at everyone within the area. The room in question was a section of the library within the center, but not far from the front area, either. It was well-blocked by low bookshelves with various objects on it, including prop items and partially open books. Instead of the usual red-gold-white-brown colors the rest of the library had, the area was more balanced in color (or 'colorful', simply) - a blue carpet, differently-sized chairs in various colors, a storage area for writing and coloring materials, and random things Pumpkin couldn't describe.
So to say, though, every chair was currently full off children—both young, old, and older. There were at least a dozen or so which are currently part of the club's activities, either narrating books to a small group or writing about a story themselves. Pumpkin recalled Archive just intending for this place to be a typical book club, where children and older ones exchanged books they either bought for themselves or borrowed from the library. However, it seemed like things shifted to include writing and even drawing as well - which was great for Pumpkin!
After all, they like reading stories! And other people's stories! And stories they can't understand for some reason!
"Pleaseeeeee?" Pumpkin pouted, eyes staring at Archive's glasses—or at his head wings, since those are distracting for her brain. "Just this one time?"
Archive chuckled a bit, glancing at everyone. "Alright, alright. Let me take a look at your book of the day."
Pumpkin squealed, before they kneeled down and opened the zipper within their bag. Upon doing so, they tried to pull at what seemed to be a side of a thick book, but struggled at even grasping it. "Lemme help you, kiddo!" Their mom declared, before kneeling down as well. She successfully took it out, holding it tight and letting light hit its edges.
And speaking of edges...it was indeed some sort of book.
...not one Archive knew well, though.
It appeared to be a thick book with a thick hardcover page, covered by a fancy, navy blue leather and golden trims. What was unusual isn't just the fact its title seemed obfuscated to Archive's eyes, or the oddly-cut gems decorating the book's edges and emitting a soft glow, but also the fact there are also things inserted into the pages of the book. In contrast to the colorful gems, though, all of it was at shades of monochromatic grey, black, and white.
...almost as if this book used to have someone investigating it.
Archive stared for a few seconds at the book, before asking questions. "I do not recognize that book from my catalog, or recall it being a book I had seen before at all. Where did you found that?"
"I dunno!" Pumpkin exclaimed. "I just saw something shiny in my bag, and there it was! I think someone dropped their diary or something on acci-ac-accident! That! But I tried opening it, and it's a story, apparently."
They were telling the truth! They have no idea how did that book got in there! That dropping part was a huge guess.
"My child's right, sir," Chicken Leg declared. She then stepped forward, forwarding the book to Archive's arms. "Ah thought they did somethin' wrong and took someone else's belongin's on accident, but then I started askin' around for people. Nobody claimed it's theirs, nor even recognize what was goin' on within the book."
"Ah made sure what you're seein' in mah hands was exactly how it was before," she continued. "We just hoped to return this to you, whether or not if it wasn't yours in in the first place."
...
"I'll take it," Archive spoke up. He gently took the book from Chicken Leg's hands, and placed it near a low bookshelf. "I will...tell you whether or not can I find any Pharadiser who owned this."
"Thank you!" Pumpkin yelled out, disrupting a few Pharadisers. "Sorry."
"Your service's appreciated, sir Archive," Chicken Leg complimented. "Yet, I still worry about its contents. It seemed to be odd for a diary, and even more for a story."
Archive raised a brow. "How odd are we talking here? Was the story something you have not seen and understood? Was it something that suspiciously matches with a real-life disaster? Or was it a prophecy?"
"I...don't know what ya mean, but it's definitely somethin' I had to remind to Pumpkin about," Chicken Leg replied. "Specifically, having to tell 'em that it ain't a real tale with real people and species within it."
"...ah." Pumpkin then noticed Notepad tug on Archive's pants, interrupting their group's conversations.
"Mister Archy, my pen ran out," Notepad spoke sadly.
Archive's eyes softened, saying, "Alright. I will find some for you." Notepad cheered as she returned to her desk, but Archive turned around to meet Chicken Leg's and Pumpkin's gaze. "Still, I promise to return it to its rightful owner, or at least wherever it was supposed to be," he declared. "I cannot be assured, but be sure that it can no longer haunt you."
Pumpkin tilted their head. "...'haunt'? What do you mean by—"
"Pumpkin!" They turned their head around to notice a random Pharadiser. "I can return your book about pumpkins!"
They immediately jumped in joy and ran towards them, somewhat forgetting about what they were confused about. Surely, their Mama and Mister Archive can be left with whatever adult things they need!
Moonlight shined through the dimly-lit areas, the moon hanging on top of the night skies. Stars dot the outdoors atmosphere, forming a semblance of a fraction of the galaxy Pharadiso resided within. Birds fly in the air, trees sway ever so slightly, but none of it and the silent night can change Archive's every day habits.
Well, except for sudden events.
...perhaps he won't be stargazing for this day.
Archive walked around the library, looking at every bookshelf he passes by. As he continued on walking, he reminisced upon the environment he was in. He can hear the sounds of swaying trees, of flapping wings (from a Pharadiser or a mere bird), and other indiscernible sounds. Something nagged within his mind about the otherwise certain silence, but he simply ignored it.
As he continued on walking, he can hear the sounds of books being placed around some bookshelves. However, he could tell subtle sound changes, and as he got closer, he heard the silent hum coming from a certain entity working for him - or at least, he had commissioned to do so. It was currently flying on top of a bookshelf, putting the books together in one place, and by its respective and appropriate locations. It had placed one, final book neatly on top, and sending a quiet whirr of satisfaction.
The aforementioned Sentry—one Archive had playfully named 'Goldie' - flew down, and immediately recognized Archive as soon as its systems caught his presence. "Task: completed, friend," it started. "What else can I help you today?"
Archive took a deep breath, looking at the book he was holding under his arm. "Secure this book into my desk," he started, handing the book to the machine in question. "And take out my notes from my closet."
"Command: integrated." Goldie walked with the book on hand to a certain direction. Archive followed, now having nothing within his own. He followed it as they walked across more bookshelves, and soon arriving at a pair of a flight of stars, which led to the 2nd floor. The two rose from the ground, walking along the stairs, until they arrived safely upstairs. Archive hummed idly as he made way for the Sentry, until they arrived at a...bookshelf?
The place is not particular compared to the rest, that being a simple area with a red-and-white flag hanging near it, and golden accents lined its edges. A lantern sat over the flag, shining warmly. Archive took a deep breath, and then took flight. His main wings are too big to fly at this closed-off area, so he instead opted to use his smaller ones. He then grabbed onto the lantern in question with his hands, and pulled.
What resulted was the bookshelf to his right receding back, before it started moving into the left. Fluorescent lights lit within the newly-revealed hallway, showing a red carpet within it. Sentry idly walked towards the place, before Archive followed, folding his head-wings. He pressed a button right above the 'door', and the bookshelf shut itself tight.
Don't worry about Goldie - it already knows how to get out of this place.
The hallway slowly progressed into an upwards spiral area, going up where nobody else might be able to access. Mostly, the state of the hallway was something Archive would rather not think about - he's a writer and librarian, not a physicist, even if he knows these proportions are off. They then arrived at what appeared to be the inside of a spire, complete with spiraling stairs leading to somewhere. Sentry then turned on its engines and started flying upwards, followed by Archive raising all of his own wings and followed suit.
Their flight was short, actually, as they all arrived on top of some sort of room...or a series of rooms. If it was tracked from the outside, it would have been shaped like a plus sign, and around a few meters long and wide for each sector. Respectively, it all contains string lights and a miniature on its own, and a platform that connects it with the mysterious set of stairs. Most of all, it lacked windows and simply have a sector all of its own dedicated to watch the interior of the actual one through cams. As for sanitary? Downstairs, do not ask about it.
Goldie went to the sector on the other side of the mini-library, which was a desk and two closets. Archive retired into his resting quarters, which resided on the final space. His nest was queen-sized, filled with multiple blankets layering on top of it. He also have a U-shaped drawer around the nest, and all of his clothing apparel hang on top of it.
"I have prepared, Archive," Goldie declared, walking near his area. "What should I do next."
"Guard," Archive declared.
And so they went, floating down the gaps until Archive could no longer see them.
...
...
It should get going with It research now.
Especially with that unknown book Pumpkin gave to Archive. For one, it cannot remember ever having that book within its catalog, nor was it something someone have ever published. Did somebody's diary fell into their items? No, it wasn't that simple. It cannot recognize the crystals embedded on its surface, either, and it might have to look deeper into its magical structures...if any. And for another topic, it had to finish what it need to answer for its own questions before it prepares for the cookout tomorrow. It promised towards all of those people that it will make that day special in a way, even with the rough start the bi-annual program have ended up in at its first year.
...it needs to fulfill this promise. It needs to fulfill this purpose—ITS appointed purpose.
A purpose of making promises be real.
Archive sighed, walked towards his desk, and glanced at the book.
Time to shave off time for this.
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References! (ignore how Mystic Quills's name was different and the inconsistent formats)
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