The Library of Fandom

[Rowen McNeill]

Rowen glanced up from his book and frowned at the damage to the shelves, stepping out of the way as he needed to. Dispite the young man's apparently callous reaction to his suroundings, Rowen was infact concerned.

About the books, and what kind of damage blood would do to them.

As for Allen? He seemed to be doing well enough on his own... If he were Human, Rowen would be more insistant about help, but the 21 year old had encountered more and more imortals lately, and he was learning to let them do as they wished...

...He just wished it didn't mean putting so many books in danger.  

[silentdraconis]

Considering Allen had yet to show a single drop of anything that might be, possibly, considered blood, there was very little risk run in regards to that sort of damage, and he wasn't likely to cut Ansem II any time soon. (Had he been ore of a jester of words, he would have said something about this hardly being a fight for the taller man, but he was not, and so did not.)
But at least he was enjoying himself!

He extracted himself from the shelves without much care for the wood that scraped his pale arms through dark cloth and turned around, grinning wickedly in a good-natured, sporting kind of way, if one can imagine that. He gestured at the doors as though half-bowing the taller man out. "One hundred floors, open to searching. A thousand places outside that can't deny you entrance. Loiter, and I resume my defineably stupid behavior."
At least he knew he was being stupid, but perhaps one couldn't be a Librarian without reading through the Dictionary once or twice. (Allen had skimmed four of them in his long hours of boredom.)
But if Ansem II was counting on this Librarian's help, or entrance to the living quarters of the Staff, he was very much mistaken, and the phrase 'over my dead body' would be very accurate from Allen's lips, except.... He never had a dead body. A broken, pulpy body, maybe, a falling apart at the invisible seams body, but not a dead body.
An evaporated, disintigrated body, even. But never dead.  

[silentdraconis]

For a long moment, the Destroyer stared flatly at Ansem II, his lurid red eyes looking through soft spikes of black hair to gaze without emotion.
Then his lips twitched.
Then he laughed. Allen threw back his head... and laughed, his voice ringing in rich, hearty tones above the roar of fire, terribly amused by the taller, stronger man's furor and expression.
If he'd been cheeky before, he was infinitely worse now, doubling over, hugging his stomach with arms that should have bled from the assault but didn't.
"A lesson!" He gasped out, straightening to lean against the broken shelving. "Ahh.... You're killing me. Killing me!" He laughed again. "That's just Haahhh~ that's just too funny..."
And of course, he was far to entertained by the sudden fury and the thought that he really seemed to think that any lesson he could threaten with fire and burning hands would scare the Destroyer, but also that he expected him to tell him where Ansem was. Ansem whom he had been considering hitting upside his blindfolded head with a book for dumping all his work on the slim shoulders of the Harbringer. What made this other Ansem think that, if Allen knew where he was, he wouldn't be there now, using his boss to alleviate his extreme boredom.
But he was laughing too hard at Ansem II to say any of that, had he been inclined to. Honestly, he was too amused to even think of it until his fit began to fade, which did not seem to be inclined to happen any time soon.

EDITED
But maybe sooner than expected: his laughter subsided into chuckles and he sighed. "Good one... A lesson..." He shook his head, grinning, bone-spire-wings rattling as he shook out his shoulders. "That was more fun than I've had in a while. I've got a question, though... What the hell makes you think there's anything you could do that would make me listen to you? I hardly listen to my own Ansem, much less the ones that can't control me." His smile was curved to the side in great humor, his voice perched on the edge of uncontainable laughter still.
"I suppose, unfortunately, as the Librarian, my duty is to tell you A.N.Sem's fate... Very well, then. In answer to your question... A.N.Sem vanished five years ago or so. Quit singing (thanks to the gods, whoever the hell they are). His fate after that is, too my knowledge, unrecorded." That was all he was duty bound to say, all he would say, to this man who was-and-was-not his boss.
Still grinning in his naturally infuriating way, Allen stepped towards his desk to retrieve a frilly, delicately tinted, pink rose. He lifted it to his nose before tossing it to the tall Ansem2, his humorous, crooked smile laughing for him: it was a token that would likely have made Ansem1 roll his eyes or look fearfully towards his office, wondering just how much space was left.
The Destroyer expected this one to be crushed in the harder Ansem's fist.  

[supremeviva]

Viva laughs as he stands up the wound no longer there. "Fool, I told him not to underestimate me."  

[supremeviva]

((right well just hold off on the auto-hitting))  

[supremeviva]

Viva struggles to maintain his feet. He contuines to stand due to his injuries. ((hey no need to get upset .....i was just saying that its not fair...i mean its not like he can kill viva...))  

[supremeviva]

eviltwinears

((Sorry. It's not really your fault that I'm pissed off. It's more that I have to head home soon and I'm not looking forward to the 4 hour drive and then weeks/months without internet access. Also, the top one hundred floors of the library are stil hurtling down towards Viva, Allen, and whoever else may be in the lobby.))

((its okay i know the feeling...)) Viva looks up and suddenly explodes into his anceint form he braces himself and struggles to hold up the floors.  

[The Mage of Space]

(Here's where it comes in handy to pilot a giant robot. I love my job. =D) Brett, seeing one hundred floors being held up by only Viva, somehow dragged himself into his mech. "This had better work!" The mech somehow managed to reach into the library and grab hold of the hundred floors. "I've got one shot at this..." The mech slowly started trying to lift the floors higher. "This is where it's handy to have a giant robot! You here that? This is no piece of junk!" The mech's limbs sounded like they were under a lot of strain, which they were. (Quote of the post:
"Barbarossa: You're mad!
Jack Sparrow: If I wasn't, this'd probably never work.")  

[silentdraconis]

((This Post goes above Brett's, because there is no way I'm changing a quarter of an hours work for something so easily reordered.))

Allen didn't waste a breath on a sigh. He didn't pause to look up at the falling tons of the magnificent Library. He lunged, a shadowy blur, hooking his arm around the blue-haired one's waist, executing a forced removal from the falling place.
He had neither time nor interest in gentility, so his arm hit more like a length of wood or bar of steel than an arm, striking with unkind force in its ironic kindness (although truthfully only an act of duty). He shoved the youth (who was probably gasping for air) out the door, instructing him to "Run." in a clipped, hard voice, and turned to flick a too-perceptive gaze across the room. Viva's interference bought time, as supporting the first floor prevented the ultimate collapse of the others, but there was only so long until it gave way around the apparently-nigh-invincible creature/person/thing. Meant to be supported by several pillars, and not one lone giant, it would crumple.
Which meant, before it did, he would have to replace the old supports with some very hasty make-shift work. and before that Viva person collapsed from supporting the unhappy hundred stories.
Unfortunately, he was not, and never had been, a mason. In fact, Allen was not the sort of person who remedied such disasters: he caused them. So for a split second that seemed undefinably long, no more time than it had taken to cast the healer from the lobby for his own protection. There was less than a minute at hand, and very few materials to work with.

As the ceiling groaned it's complaint, Allen moved, darting to a floor-to-ceiling shelf that had little choice about moving. It would be relocated, and it would do as a temporary stand in for a pillar, acting a great deal more supportive than the collapsed stone would.
As he ran the man-made fruit of trees into place, one might hear him muttering derogatory comments...
Stupid Ansem(II), infringing on his territory!  

[supremeviva]

Viva strains under the weight as torrents of blood pour down his body from his many wounds. "I really need to stop playing around with my targets.."