Ichabod Crane (no_superstition) wrote in indarkness_logs, @ 2010-11-02 00:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, 2032 11, ichabod crane, simon tam |
RP: Books
Characters: Ichabod
Time/Date: Evening, Nov 1
Location: Outside the library door
Warnings/Rating: None
Summary: A new fear, as if he needed one.
Status: Open
Books had been a staple of Ichabod's life for so long that he simply took their presence for granted. His apartment in New York had been littered with them, shoved in every conceivable location that he could find. Overhead beams as well as the ones on the walls served as makeshift shelves; tables, even window sills- well, any that were not round held precious manuals and texts that drove his creative mind. There was also his ever-present journal, a place where he could write his thoughts and search for patterns among the scattered notes and drawings. It was an important part of his organization.
Not to mention that small blue book, so dear to him that he carried in his coat pocket; it was something he did not want to be without.
Today though, that same small blue book kept him from wearing his coat, and while he was not one for "casual" attire before others he could not bear the thought wearing the coat and having that book so near to him. Any book. In fact that morning he had brought a certain discomfort with the idea of even touching the book he had found to use as a journal, which he kept in a drawer near the bed. It was a feeling of dread that made his heart race and his hands tremble; it was foolish! He needed to get past it, he could not shun such a thing for long- Katrina would no doubt notice very quickly.
In a bid to overcome that discomfort he made his way to the library, determined to shove open the doors and prove to himself that his fear was irrational. It was no less than he had done in the past, and he rubbed his palms together as he considered what he was about to do. Ichabod lifted his chin and tugged on the hem of his vest as he straightened. It was now or never.
With an unsteady hand he pushed open a door to reveal shelves lined with books. Harmless pages sitting bound on the shelves; knowledge waiting to be learned and mysteries to understand. It was overwhelming, and strangely terrifying. Without another moment's hesitation he turned away and withdrew his kerchief from his pocket, covering his mouth as he took deep breaths. It was a terrible thing to be afraid of, but he knew that he could not enter that room. Not right now, and he knew this was the work of their captors- but how? Were others affected by such strangeness too?