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The Library


a part of Chaotic-Systematic, by AiteCipher.

Books and documents of all sorts can be found inside the Complex's surprisingly massive library.

AiteCipher holds sovereignty over The Library, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

289 readers have been here.


The library is a massive, thirteen-story building housing too many books to count. It's arranged in alphabetical order by the name of the author throughout the seemingly arbitrarily-placed sections within the building, so certain books can be, at times, a pain to find. The library is a quiet place filled with dust, as the majority of the Complex's rather large population doesn't care for its existence. While it isn't the tallest building in the Cipher Complex, it lies at its heart, and it can actually be tough to access because of the limited number of paths leading to it.

There's no librarian, but books that aren't returned in time will often be found missing within a few days after their due dates.
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The Library

Books and documents of all sorts can be found inside the Complex's surprisingly massive library.


The Library is a part of The Cipher Complex.

4 Characters Here

Brandon Thanes [1] Let your mind roam free. Keep it bottled up, and you'll surely burst.
Felicia (Fibi) Marie Thompson. [1] "Fantasy and Reality almost always collide in our world."
Marcus Walker [1] You're looking for restitution for your own lack of insight; for failing to see the devil beside you.
Rowen "Sparrow" Butler [1] Dance with a passion; live with a fury; and never stop asking why.

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4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowen "Sparrow" Butler Character Portrait: Felicia (Fibi) Marie Thompson. Character Portrait: Brandon Thanes Character Portrait: Marcus Walker
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The library was filled with anything but silence in the after-breakfast-between-lunch rush, but then, Rowen hardly come expecting a soundless sanctuary. After years in the Cipher spent forming her cycle of habit, Rowen had come to realize that the places she'd once come to expect privacy from rarely offered anything of the sort. Strangely, however, she could find peace under the gaping dome of windows above, and that was enough. Making her way across the room, she pushed aside the stacks of books she'd accumulated the previous week and added the hardly-diminutive stack to the growing fortress surrounding the only ladder leading up to her haven atop the library. The books awaiting return were stacked like bricks, and like most shoddy, mortarless constructions, the teetering wall of books threatened to topple at her unsuspecting touch. Fortunately for Rowen, she was well aware of the precarious predicament she'd built herself into, and she told herself somewhere in the back of her mind that she'd return the books sometime that week.

Of course, that was what she'd said last week, and she'd told herself the same in the weeks and months before. She could hardly remember the titles of the books on the bottom. Unlike the books she had kept hostage in her room in the name of scientific inquiry, this wall of books had never moved on its own. Books outside the library were all too often found missing from where she had left them to die upside down and alone, but the mess she made here hardly did anything but gather dust over the course of the last few months. From the fact that the tower was still standing she could surmise that no one had bothered to climb the ladder in just as long— Rowen had a habit of either taking the domed ceiling's entrance or just staying in when the chance presented itself. Anyone else motivated and able to join her in her peace had done the former when she hadn't been doing the ladder; not once had she seen another soul in the atrium above the library.

It was, in a way, her own small secret, this sunlit place. When the sun hit the windows in all the right ways, it almost seemed as though the undergrowth slipping onto the tiled floor was forming the carpet of the lush meadows she'd so often read of. Lush meadows, too, had their own special places in the heart of secrets kept, so the atrium itself was more than just her surrogate home above the library— in a way, it was the very world itself, as well.

The atrium, despite its spacious composure, was in a perpetual state of clutter. One thing or another was always in bloom while something else had just died, so Rowan often left all the windows open to circulate the air and alleviate some of the humidity. The windows opened in a single circle within the shape of the dome, so when each was opened at once, end to end, the top of the building in itself resembled the flowers it housed within. This small perfection gave the entire level a character and a mystique of its own, and Rowen would swear it was half the reason she spent so much time up there, in the first place.

Today, however, the windows were closed. The humidity was hardly noticeable, for once, and she couldn't be bothered to tend to the greenery. Nestled between against a rather stunted willow and the dirt-holding terrace's brick wall, she was content to skim through the first book she had grabbed. She couldn't have read them all, with the stack she'd brought up last week. But skimming through it, she realized it wasn't anything new. Without something to read, sitting there was going to be a long, trying affair, so she stood up and searched the books scattered around the room for something to occupy herself with. One book after another, think and thin and too heavy to lift without a struggle, found its way into her hands, but not a single one stayed.

It occurred to Rowen that now might be a good time to get some new books. Internally, she groaned. Either she braved the people downstairs or she could sit here, bored, for hours while they all left.

Well, there was always dance. She could practice her dancing. Granted, she would have to clean the place up a bit and find a spot not covered with creeping vines— but she could do it. Right? Well, if she gathered the effort. Which wasn't going to happen. Rowen sat herself down again to think for a bit. It had hardly quieted in the minutes she'd spent bumbling around the place, and she doubted silence was going to come any faster. She didn't have a choice.

Also, she really needed to take those books down.

Rowen gathered a stack and extended her wings. She held a good number of books in a pile laid against her chin and chest. The stack was tall enough to cover three or four weeks: hard-backs, paperbacks, it consisted of whatever she could find in the vicinity. It would take her more than a couple trips to get them all down, but it would probably be worth it. Probably. Rowen was afraid to admit to herself that she couldn’t remember what the atrium actually looked like in its barest state, free of books and the mess she’d made.

When she pushed down to take off, however, her muscles screamed with the effort. They were already taxed enough carrying the hundred-pound, hollow-boned girl, and another handful of pounds thrown in by the books wasn’t about to help. The stack was too high and too heavy to fly with even carrying moderately sized loads. In the matter of transporting books, Rowen’s wings were clipped; she was bound to the ground. There was no point in climbing down the ladder, as she had no means of carrying them down, and risking the collapse of her book fort was hardly an inviting option. That left what was potentially hundreds of small trips taken to cover the hundreds of weeks of book rations Rowen had left for herself scattered about the room.

Ah, wonderful. She began to wonder why no one had ever bothered building stairs in the place.

It was then that her desperate eyes found it: there, in a tucked-away alcove long since smothered by the vines, was an odd black door she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps she had always been so engrossed in reading, or perhaps she had never had need to notice such a thing, but now, on seeing it for the first time, a small flicker of joy was set alight in her heart. She slipped through the vines and let the door swing open to reveal a daunting metal cage. Made of nothing more than wrought-iron bars attached to a wood-and-metal floor, it exuded anything but an air of safety. The device looked like nothing more than a storage closet until she noticed the pulley lever attached to the inside and the sign reading “Elevator” just above the doorway. The function of the strange closet became obvious. She stacked up piles of books inside, first, before stepping in— it was best to lose the rickety cage and the pile of paper than her life, she concluded. When it held fast, she stepped inside.

Rowen had read about elevators, but she had never seen one before. The majority of the vertical transport in the Cipher was achieved via stairs or ladders, as there was no need for large-scale, automated transport. Rowen, however, would gladly take the opportunity to use one now. Though she was sure she hardly needed the extra ‘protection,’ she slid the doors shut just for the thrill of it and wrenched the lever down hard.

Almost inevitably, it wouldn’t move.

Rowen levered herself against it, and it creaked a bit, but it still moved hardly more than an inch. She had to hoist herself up onto it and sit on the thing before a deafening crack sounded and the elevator hummed to life. There was the most beautiful sinking feeling in her stomach as she dropped to the floor. It was like flying with her feet still stuck to the ground, and she was disappointed when the adventure was finally over. She opened the sliding grate and opened the outermost door, nearly falling into a heavy coughing fit when what must have been years of dust tumbled onto her head from the doorframe. It seemed as though the elevator had never been used.

The door opened out behind a bookshelf. The small space, through which Rowen could hardly fit her wings, was the perfect breeding grounds for spiders and any number of unpleasant things that liked to crop up in the moments she wasn’t watching where she tread. The elevator, loaded with books, would take more than a couple trips to rid it of its contents. Rowen picked up a new stack and shuffled out from behind the bookshelf, careful to take note of where this hidden treasure laid in wait— it was the wall farthest from the entrance, tucked behind a shelf of books on nothing more than strange modern art and drawing. Of the few glimpses she managed to catch of the books, the paint splotches on the spine were the first to come to her attention. She supposed even the strange art section had its clientele.

With that, Rowen set to work, slipping through the library to seek out the drop-bin while trying to avoid the gaze of the passers-by. Underneath the stack of books, her face was invisible, and she walked the library like she ran the place. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

If she didn’t, she swore to the sky above that someone would ask her to help find a book.

[[ OOC: Tagging you all, since you're all in here. Do what you will. Sorry it took so long— I had no idea who was supposed to be posting. Guilt. Guilt. ]]