Librarian of Alexandria

XVII: The Unsettling Yearly Dance Of The Platonic Solids, or, Weird Tides

Eberhardt "Papercat" Von Kvotzburg frowned, and his eyebrows knotted into perfect curls and settled underneath the rolling wrinkles that had arrayed themselves on his expansive forehead. His hand gripped the cold metal of the creaking, weather-beaten chair. His eyes darted—up, down, up, down, left, down, up, up, down...

"Aye, I'm afraid 'tis true," she said as she sipped the paper cup filled with overpriced coffee-like beverage. Her nose, shaped as it was like a ski ramp, twitched in anticipation of the impending caffeine.

"When did you start talking like a pirate?" he asked.

"There be a lot ye not know about me," she muttered. "Be that as it may, ye know not of the treasure that awaits ye—the treasure that awaits us all as we traverse the shores beyond—"

"—are you still talking about the grocery store?"

"Aye." She tested the temperature of the coffee with a tiny, noisy sip, and then shrugged and threw back the entire cup without so much as a flinch. "There be stranger things in the world than ye know, Papercat. Much stranger things that may set their sights upon ye."

"You're aware that 'ye' is a nominative—not an objective—pronoun, no?"

"Shut ye the fuck up," she said with a slow, lilting cadence and a haunting glare. "Let we get the fuck to the store of grocery."

And frankly, it would have been an okay grocery run if not for the kraken.