sunnydalealum | (no subject)

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The thin slanting light of a winter midafternoon is sifting in through the high windows as two figures step into the main room of the Library of the New Watchers' Council: a vast round vaulted space lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

Andrew's seen it before; he's looking at Nita, grinning in anticipation of her reaction.

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"Enacted. Well, sometimes, anyway." She grins ruefully. "There are words for it in the Speech, but they don't always translate well."

"Trouble with a language that precise, yeah, is other languages are ... not so precise. We don't have the words. Which is sometimes a problem with Sulcaric, too." He scowls at the syllabary. "Wanna see if we can finish the page?"

"Absolutely."

Time passes.

Eventually, Nita tosses down her pen and leans back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "Okay, my brain is officially on strike."

"Nng," agrees Andrew, and follows suit on both counts.

"Think we can probably stop here and call the experiment a success."

"Agreed." She stretches and grins. "I might have to come back some time and keep reading. I'm getting kind of involved in the saga of Ioxekai. --I mean, if I may."

He grins back. "I'd have to arrange it with Harry again, but I can do that. And who knows, maybe next time you could talk shop with Rachel or the rest of the coven. Compare kung fu styles?"

Snort.

"Is that a good idea? I mean" -- she lowers her voice a little -- "do they know about Milliways and all that?"

He shakes his head. "Not so far as I know, but ..."

A pause, and he chews his lip.

"I mean, there are different styles of magic in this world too ... but you know what, yeah, you might be right."

(It has occurred to him, a bit belatedly, that they're already lucky that Rachel didn't recognize the name Nita Callahan.)

She looks rueful.

"I did think I was treading on thin ice earlier. And I mean, unless there's something written in the Speech around here somewhere" -- she gestures expansively -- "I'd probably start sounding pretty alien pretty fast. Ah, well."

"...I wonder if there is. That'd be interesting."

Stories do cross over, after all.

"Doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility."

"Something to look into next time, maybe? 'Cause I should probably be getting you back home soon."

"Yeah."

She looks around at the stacks, her grin softening, and then down at him.

"Andrew -- this is fantastic. Really. Thank you."

He beams back. "Anytime. And hey, I owe you for that other trip, so ... yeah."

"What, the Moon? Nah, you didn't owe me anything for that. But I'll accept this as not-a-repayment-because-you-don't-owe-me-anything."

That gets a laugh, as Andrew pushes back his chair and stands up.

(A low laugh. They are still in the library.)

"That'll work," he says, turning to lead her towards the door.

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