Goth Librarian の小説・ストーリー

the librarian leads the way to the source of information, “What are you looking for specifically? Domboguru has many mythological stories associated with many creatures!” “Specifically, the witches, the mythological ones, those said to have possess immense power!” she pin point clarifying what she is looking for. The librarian looks at her in terror over what she said. “What?” she asks. “Why the dark dimension?” She sighs, “It’s just school research. And I want to bring them something that is ahhh………... unique and not baby tales.” Relieved upon hearing of the project he starts looking for the books, “You want to be the outstanding student? I cannot deny that it is not commendable.”

I tell her. She nods mutely to me and I lead her away towards the section on wildlife. The library is really quite extensive. There are books on everything. When I came here with Dante I was only looking for a book to draw me in and help me pick back up reading. Now, I have a specific section that I am looking for. As we pass groups of werewolves they all smile and wave while giving Morden an evil look. I was sincerely hoping that nobody here would recognize her but I guess that is not going to happen any time soon. I cannot blame them when I think of everything that she did to the pack.

I couldn’t wait to finish the novel and then upload it to Zoodago, the sight where I published my works and had so many loyal readers. As I typed, a sharp voice cut through my concentration. "Humans aren't welcome in this section of the library." I looked up to see a stern-faced librarian glaring down at me. She had on round black glasses and a plastic-looking hairdo pulled back so tightly, I could see the strain around the edges of her face. Her eyes were cold and completely filled with disdain. "Excuse me?" I stammered, taken aback by her hostility. "You heard me," she snapped. "This area is reserved for special students. Not humans."

Just a handful of desperate students down below, their heads buried in books and notes, the soft hum of fluorescent lights the only sound breaking the silence. But I wasn't here for the quiet or the musty smell of old pages anymore. No, I had been coming to these late shifts for years now, feeding off the sight of them. And it was the young guys hunched over tables, their bodies tense and unaware of my eyes on them. At forty-two, I looked the part of the proper librarian: slim build, neatly trimmed beard, wire-rimmed glasses perched on my nose. But underneath it all, I was a mess of pent-up lust.

Vera followed us, carrying the books she had already read to return to the library. Janus didn’t need a tour. He made himself at home instantly. Vera and I exchanged glances, looking at Janus strolling around as if he owned that place. I rarely came to the library in my previous life. “Do you want another tragic romance?” Izumi, our royal librarian, asked. She stood on the other side of the circular library desk, intricately carved and styled out from the rosewood. I looked at Vera, who blinked at me blankly and innocently.

This doesn’t sound like the book I needed so I put it back on the shelves and wander the rows of clams looking for something that catches my eye. It turns out it’s not easy looking for something when you don’t know what that something is. The librarian walks in my direction once she is done reading to the children. “I don’t expect you to remember me, but I am Gilda, I would recognize your soul anywhere.” “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.” Why didn’t my soul sense hers if we had met before? “You used to come here often, especially before the war when witches were welcome to come and go as they pleased” her voice cracked.

Dim overhead lights cast long shadows between the rows, and the air carried that comforting, dusty scent of old paper and leather bindings. Lila Harper had worked the late shift at the circulation desk for three semesters. At 29, she was the youngest full-time librarian on staff, with sharp hazel eyes, shoulder-length chestnut hair often twisted into a loose bun, and a body that her modest cardigans and knee-length skirts couldn’t quite hide. She knew every quiet corner of the building, including which sections offered the most privacy after 9 p.m.

He positions himself near the door – close enough to hear trouble, far enough to give privacy. "The girl," Ms. Winters says without preamble. "The one you brought from Blackthorn. She was in the library this morning." "I know." The image of Sage with that ancient book, violet eyes wide with wonder, flashes through my mind. "Her eyes." The librarian's voice drops lower. "Touched by the moon herself. Just like the old stories of the blessed ones." Phantom surges forward, suddenly alert, protective. "What do you mean?"

I walked around the library, looking for something to solve this problem. I couldn't believe why, in a state this bad, Noah wouldn't ask his dad for help. Was their relationship really that messed up? Even if Noah hung with a biker gang, I was sure his dad would still want to help his son. I was stumped because there were still a ton of students in the lobby. I couldn't just carry Noah past all of them. What was I supposed to do? Suddenly, I happened to see a librarian go through a small door that students didn't normally use. It looked like a special alternative door for the staff. I went up to the door and went inside. I saw a bunch of books scattered around. There was a small path that co

"You shouldn't be in this section," the librarian said from the doorway. He was old even for a vampire — his face the texture of ancient paper, his eyes the pale grey of overcast winter sky. He looked at Lena the way old men look at things they've spent a long time believing were gone. "This gallery is restricted." "The door was unlocked," Lena said. She did not move from where she stood, in front of a shelf of texts so old their spines had lost their lettering entirely. "I didn't break anything."