Browsing Through History <Shai City, North Pole>

[kolja]

Bracing the icy winds and general frosty atmosphere of Shai City was no ordinary feat. One needed patience, one needed determination, and above all else, one needed a seriously warm parka. As far as Kolja was concerned, there was no reason to even leave the safety and comfort of home without a really, really good reason--especially if the trip's destination was the secluded archives building!--but if Master Alaqua, the homely elder woman who taught her healing class, wanted some kind of obscure scroll on an ancient healing technique, well, Kolja was just going to have to learn to deal. Besides, being trusted with such a task filled her with an honor that warmed her body better than her own parka could.

And so, climbing the ice-carved steps until she was standing in front of the archives building, huffing and puffing from the effort, she lowered her hood out of respect for the archives caretaker until all of her hair was exposed. Thick snowflakes gently fell on her hair, quickly blanketing the top of her head in white. Gathering the courage to bustle into such an important part of her city's history, especially with the warning of Master Alaqua still ringing in her ears ("the master archivist does not enjoy dawdlers and time-wasters, so do not anger him!"), she twisted her gloved hands over and under each other like wrestling sea-bears against the backdrop of her cobalt parka, and stepped inside.

Shelves hewn from a mixture of densely-compacted snow and thick ice lined the walls, and piled atop the shelves were hundreds of thousands of millions (at least in Kolja's mind) of scrolls, neatly stacked and lined up to give the appearance of someone who regarded clutter with disdain. Ignorant of any possible presence, Kolja began to browse the nearest shelf, unsure of where to look first or if to even ask for help.

[taartoq]

Far under the depths, safe from freezing winds, sheltered from harsh climates, he emerged. After a morning spent perusing, compiling, comparing, and ultimately transcribing every account of the siege obtained by archivists, Taartoq made his way up the spiral staircase leading to the structure above, steps lining along the cylindrical wall of ice where lamps of whale oil lit the way.

Only a mere fraction of the archival building was visible above ground, the rest comprised of a series of catacombs beneath the surface, where not only the most sacred artifacts lay, but where archivists were able to work in peace. From elderly Chaska to youthful Haukea, surely none of these enjoyed bothersome people who insisted their important work be interruped. When only two archivists roamed the main building, the rest were probably far below, diligent at work.

Taartoq, in this case, was returning to the surface building. The cerulean, mandarin-collared cheongsam he wore, embroidered with stylized images of snow cranes at the lower edges, swayed at its hem of mid-calf length with each upward step. Beneath it was a baby blue shirt with long bell sleeves, widening from the elbow to the wrist, and a pair of cornflower blue trousers could be seen through the cheongsam's side slits. His feet were kept warm on the icy floor by thick white socks and rosy brown moccasins. The stuffy, dust-laden catacombs below could only be tolerated for so long, even though the structure above often contained many of what brought him disdain. People.

Knowing he had to return sooner or later brought him from the basement, emerging from the curtain only to see a beauteous view of daylight shining through the cupola of glass atop the structure. Below amidst the rows of bookshelves, there wasn't a soul in view, other than the shadow of guards at either side of the actual building's entrance. Curious, but something of a relief. None of those pesky sorts to ask him stupidly obvious questions.

However, a brief walk along the outer perimeter of the shelves dashed his hopes of relative solitude. There stood a young girl, no more than eligible marriage age, fingers walking around many a scroll. Letting out a sigh, he approached the youth who had eluded his notice, but only out of a sense of obligation rather than a need to assist her. It was his job, sadly and regrettably. From behindt he girl, his voice broke the silence in a matter-of-fact way. "You're looking for something...?"

[kolja]

She had discovered a rather interesting scroll that, while not necessarily related to the reason why she was wandering around the archives building in the first place but still a good read, had demanded all of her attention--it was old and faded and turning up at the corners, flaking and notched along the edges, and went into great detail about the marriage ceremony of Avatar Kuruk: how a woman had charmed and quelled his boastful ways; how they had fallen madly in love and decided to be wed; how, upon walking through the Spirit Oasis, the spirits had snatched the Avatar's wife-to-be right out of his hands and dragged her down, down, down into the watery depths of the Spirit World, never to return; how, to this day, it is said the spirit of Avatar Kuruk roams the afterlife, unrelenting in his pursuit of his true love.

Ohh, how romantic...Kolja could feel her heart swell with love and adoration for the poor man and his lost love...

So immersed in her browsing, Kolja did not hear the light footsteps of a young man, and when he spoke, his voice sounding like dry ice in the silent halls of the archives, she couldn't help but jump and utter a tiny scream. "Oh my!" she squeaked, clapping her hands over her mouth and subsequently dropping the aged scroll. Blushing furiously at her own foolishness, she dropped to her knees before the young man could say anything and swiped the parchment off the floor, brushing off loose snowflakes and returning it to its home on the shelves.

Smiling to ease her own embarrassment, she linked her gloved hands in front of the swollen stomach of her stuffed parka and said, "I apologize for being so jumpy--you scared me!" Laughing, she continued. "I'm looking for a scroll." Well, duh. "I mean, well, I'm looking for a scroll about Waterbending, specifically healing. Master Alaqua--do you know her? She's the head healing teacher and she's so clever!--sent me, her star pupil,"--at this, she flashed an arrogant little grin that said of course I'm her star pupil--"to get a very specific and important scroll on the dynamics of a very advanced healing technique." She vaguely swept her arm over the shelves, careful to avoid knocking any more parchments to the floor. "Would you happen to know where I could find something like that, sir?"

[taartoq]

As the girl fumbled and stumbled awkwardly, prior to a rather bold statement that had ever right to raise a skeptical eyebrow or two, Taartoq stayed as composed as ever. His hands were grasped behind his back, touching the very edges of the long, luxuriant sable hair that rippled from his head to his waist. His face was like an ice sculpture, motionless except for the cyan eyes that followed her diligently. One had to be sure she didn't wreak more havoc.

As with her actions, her question showed no signs of being shrewd. A simple jaunt around the place would easily lead her where she wanted to go, but Taartoq quickly supposed he was the person to ask if she needed assistance, and to grin and bear it until it was over. Well, the grinning part was in question. Needless to say, his straightforward response still reflected a cold air of formal civility. "I can. Please follow me."

Turning his back to her, posture without flaw, he walked toward the stairs leading to the second level. There they would have no trouble finding what she needed. As he wondered why he attracted teenage girls to the archives, he also hoped it would be smooth sailing from then on.

[kolja]

Perplexed but undeterred by the archivist's crisp, to-the-point way of speaking, Kolja followed Taartoq down the halls and up the stairs to the second level of the building, mostly in silence save for their soft, muted footsteps on the tightly-packed snow. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two, one that made Kolja tug nervously on her pierced earlobes (polished mother of pearl with bleached elephant koi bone thrown in for decoration) and twine a thick lock of hair around her fingers. Now seemed like a good idea to strike up a conversation with the master archivist, despite the fact he seemed wholly uninterested in, well, just about everything. Clearing her throat, she asked in a steady, confident voice, "Does it get lonely here sometimes?"

However, there wasn't much time to answer as they soon reached their intended destination. Kolja pulled off her gloves, stuffed them into her parka's pockets, flexed her fingers (which had gained a thin sheen of sweat from being cooped up in the hot, stuffy gloves all morning) and wiped them down the front of her clothing before gently placing them on the shelf in front of her. It was impolite to touch things that didn't belong to you, especially if those things were important artifacts of her tribe's culture. In any case, she let her hands drop back to her side and glanced at Taartoq's bright, bright eyes. "Would you mind picking out a proper scroll for me? I feel I might drop it again, and this time it wouldn't recover!"

[taartoq]

Taartoq felt certain toward the girl's question, as he would readily praise the solitude, peace, and quiet the archive building brought to his life. A definite change from the life that would soon dominate, where the new life - and probably even more to come afterward - would run him into the ground in no time. He honestly felt like examing old scrolls of herbal tinctures for awareness and alertness, just so he didn't venture beyond the mortal realm trying to care for his job and his family at the same time.

Almost obsessively, he kept checking over his shoulder to make sure the teenager didn't lay a hand on anything she should not. From what he had observed, her tendencies leaned toward the destructive. As for the quip she tacked onto the end of her sentence, Taartoq returned little more than a raised eyebrow. If this girl were making fun of herself, it certainly showed a new side to her. Perhaps too she was showing humility, a trait Taartoq happened to value more often than not. Making and ceasing eye contact in a mere moment, he hummed in reply, "Yes..."

Steps were taken ahead of the youth, where he perused the shelves' contents diligently in search of the proper scroll. Annals of knowledge lay before the two Water Tribe folk, pages and scrolls laying in wait to be unfurled and tell each their own tale. Each had their own use in one way or another.

By memory did he recall the location of the healing scrolls, often requested by women leading or attending such classes to ensure they were able to apply their waterbending for such helpful purposes. Oftentimes it was his very own mother dropping by, not only for a visit, but to retrieve or return a valuable tome of knowledge. Reaching his slender digits into an orifice carved in the ice, like latticework to hold each and every scroll in proper alignment, he drew out a large scroll that he recalled to be of good use and acclaimed by those who read and heeded its contents.

"I believe this," he said while holding it out to the girl, fingers perched on the ivory knob at either end of the roller to which it was attached while the flattened palm of his other hand held the opposite end with meticulous care. Meeting his hand with the other to hold the main body of the scroll, he brought it slowly to the girl. "This will fill your need. But please, do not hesitate if you need anything more."

[kolja]

Standing perfectly still, poised as if getting her portrait drawn with her arms linked behind her back and her head held high, Kolja waited in polite silence while the young man busied himself with shuffling through shelves and searching through scrolls. His one-worded answer to her question pretty much ended the conversation right there, and Kolja, not one to press things that already seemed delicate and awkward enough, had resigned to simply passing the time by counting off the number of hot young suitors she had passed while walking to the Archives building.

Eleven! Eleven bachelors! Ha ha ha!

"I believe this... This will fill your need. But please, do not hesitate if you need anything more."

Kolja blinked. Already? That wasn't too long! Gently taking the offered scroll in her hands, she inspected it for a few moments, smiling and nodding, until she carefully rolled it back up and gingerly placed it into the deep pocket of her parka. It was an old scroll, after all, and she certainly didn't want to be held responsible if it were to be ripped or damaged or, Spirits forbid, stolen! Patting her occupied pocket, she flashed another brilliant smile, turned, and began walking out of the Archives building.

"Thank you so much, sir! I don't know if I'm supposed to pay you or not, but since this is for a very important healing class"--she said this with a touch of pride, acknowledging her own accomplishments in not only being a bender, but a very skilled bender at that--"I'm sure Master Alaqua can work something out." Nearing the door, she stopped in her tracks and turned to face the Master Archivist and bowed deeply, her hands stuffed into the opposite sleeve while the beads and bones in her hair clicked against each other.

And with that, Kolja left. She didn't want to be here long, after all--there were classes to attend! Techniques to learn! Boys to oggle!

[Kolja Boy has SUPERMAN'D DAT HO, YOOOOOOU! has left the thread.]

[taartoq]

Taartoq felt strongly about the slipshod way - in his opinion - she was handling the scroll, but decided it was best to avert his gaze lest he see the parchment be wrinkled and smudged by the natural oils of her fingertips, even if they were covered by thick gloves. The matter weigh upon his mind frequently as to the whereabouts of most scrolls, their final destinations wrought with creases, folds, and stains. In response, he spoke softly to the girl before she walked off. "In due time. I will speak to Master Alaqua personally..."

It was a blessing that people like him kept the originals of these scrolls under the utmost of care, locked away, as their numerous copies were given away to those who visited. Penned via 'inkbending' or traditional means - by nonbenders, of course - they served their purpose quite well. In fact, the scroll that the young woman took away was one of the very first copies of the scroll in question. As he walked alongside these 'precious' documents, he reflected over the eventuality each document would face, and decided to let go. They were inanimate objects, and soon he would have to face something in life that required much more attention and care. An infant child. Oh, rapturous joy...

Footfalls on the ice echoed in the place, empty of all but Taartoq and very few fellow archivists, guards standing outside at the door. Each tap, tap, tap brought him around the perimeter of the place, pacing in boredom. He didn't expect things to change, as the archival building rarely found more than a handful of visitors at any point...but he never once felt the need to complain. Solitude was his friend.

~Taartoq has emo'd out of this thread~