part 353 whalers on the moon

[aphanon_meme]

We've been here over a year now! I can hardly believe it! Dreamwidth's been pretty good, I'd say, with almost no downtime to speak of and all that! Anyway... how is your spring going? Or I guess it's almost summer, isn't it? Hopefully it's been well! I've been catching up on work and new movies, all very exciting stuff, I'm sure.

Enjoy part 353!

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"Put that thing back where it came from or so help me..."

[(Anonymous)]

Re: "Put that thing back where it came from or so help me..."

[(Anonymous)]

"Ain't that I mind you showin' up now," Norway said, glancing at America as they made their way down the hall to Norway's library. "'S only that I expected you later. Caught me in the middle of summat."

It was pretty clear that he was telling the truth. Normally, Norway looked pretty put-together, but today he had a haphazard look, like he'd gotten dressed in the dark. His hair was combed and clipped back as usual, but a few stray strands had escaped and fell across his face, bothering him enough that he kept brushing them away, but not enough for him to fix it. There was a pencil tucked behind his ear.

"Well, I don't mind! It's not like I'll only be here for a day." As they stepped into the library, America looked over the shelves and whistled. For a personal library, it was huge. "I bet I can find something to read while you finish whatever you're doing." And then the fun would start. It had been months since they'd been able to hang out together! They had a lot of catching up to do.

"Mayhaps." There was a note in Norway's voice that said he wasn't exactly convinced. "Can you read Norwegian? Or Danish."

"... Uh."

"French?"

"Sort of-"

"... Might be best if you just come in here with me." Norway led him to a small door off to the side, tucked neatly into a corner. "Could tell me what you've been doing."

That sounded a lot better. "Sounds great!" And even if Norway was too wrapped up in his magic whatsits to listen, that was all right. America could just stare at him. Well, watch him. He looked good, at least.

As America watched, Norway ran his fingers down the front of it, muttered something, and then opened the door. He glanced back, raised an eyebrow, then slipped inside - and beckoned him in. "Close the door behind you," Norway said flatly.

Slowly, America stepped inside and carefully drew the door shut. The light inside Norway's study was not as bright as it had been in the large library, but there was still more than enough of it, the sunlight streaming in from the window warm and gold and lending a welcoming note to everything. There were no comfortable armchairs and neatly organized shelves here; just a large polished wood desk, covered with books and candles and pens and paper and on the shelves that were there books were tucked together, stacked on top of each other, put in whichever way they could possibly fit. Some, America noticed, were chained shut and locked fast to bars across the front of the shelves, as if they might just get up and walk away on their own if they weren't held down.

"Shouldn't take long to get this sorted out," Norway muttered, not looking at him as he sank down right to where he'd been sitting before America showed up and drew a manuscript toward him. "Nearly got this one cracked, is all. Old spells, y'know, folk didn't always set 'em down in a way what made sense..." He trailed off as he started reading.

Fine, then. "Okay! Whatever you say." Not that magic was real, of course, but as far as America was concerned, Norway could keep his weird hobbies. It wasn't like it hurt anybody, anyway.

While Norway muttered things to himself and scribbled down notes, America found his attention drawn to that bookcase again. He stepped toward it, looking over the old books, some of them crumbling, others looking almost as good as new. While he wasn't exactly an expert, he could tell that some of them had been re-bound. The covers looked too new; too modern. He touched one of the new spines, sliding his fingertips over the title, tooled into the leather. It looked a bit like Norway's writing. Had he bound it himself?

He moved to the next one, but stopped without touching it, his fingertips hovering over the book. Unlike the one next to it, the binding on that one was old, worn-out. The whole book seemed to buckle slightly under its own weight. Its leather was lighter than the others, even with its age, and had a different look to it; a different texture, somehow, like it had been made from a different animal. Almost like -


... Gross. America swallowed harshly and looked away, edging along the shelf until he came to the end. There, a few large books were all chained together, dark and intimidating, even with their frayed bindings. Another chain, wrapped around the rest, kept them held fast to the railing. Next to them was a smaller book, half the size of the rest, with delicate symbols carved into the leather and gilt edges. It looked delicate, and refined, almost like a prayer book, like some of the ones he'd seen in England's library. But that one was wrapped in chains too.

His brows furrowed a little. It didn't make sense, a prayer book like that being chained shut. Maybe it had some pervy drawings in it or something. Humming with curiosity, America reached for it, sliding it carefully from its place on the shelf. Even though it was wrapped up, the chains weren't tight, and if he just wiggled them a little maybe he could -

"Put it back," came a sharp order from the other side of the room. America swore, nearly dropped the book, and looked over at Norway. He wasn't even looking at him! Hadn't even lifted his head. How the hell -

"D'you got cotton in yer ears? I said put it back." And still, Norway didn't look up. "Else don't come cryin' to me to fix things if it bites your fingers off."

Bites your fingers off? Seriously! "It's just a book," America muttered, rolling his eyes a bit. "It can't-"

Suddenly, the book twitched in his hands, then shuddered and whined and tried to open itself. "What the-?!" America gasped, almost dropping the thing again. The chains kept it shut, but the book strained against them, trying to open its covers like a mouth. Somewhere, between the gilt pages, he thought he saw tiny rows of sharp teeth.

"Jesus Christ!" He shoved it back on the shelf and took a huge step away from it, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked over at Norway - the guy still hadn't looked up, not this whole time. It was like this was completely normal for him! Then again, maybe it was. "You should warn me next time!"

"I did," Norway said flatly. "You didn't listen." He paused, then gently nudged one of the books on his desk toward the edge. "Here. This one has pictures in it. You can look at that one 'till I'm done."

America sighed with defeat and headed over. After a second, he sank down onto the bench beside Norway, and took up the bestiary he'd offered.

This was not - really not - the way he'd expected this visit to start.