an aid to laundry troubles

[unsheathedfromreality]

[At some handwave-y time shortly after the closing of the Story, a note in an workmanlike cursive hand goes up on the bulletin board:]

If you need a change of clothing, I can make simple tunics and trousers that won't disappear.

Find me:

[A simple doodle of Illarion's face follows: Pointy ears, long hair, blindfold (or veil), malar stripes. Enough to go on when most of the Library is human.

It is signed below the doodle with an eye-and-feather symbol. No name.]

IC UPDATE:

[A few hours after the initial post goes up, an additional sheet of paper is appended to it:]

Payment is not necessary but if you're one of those who can make or find permanent items, you can bring one of the following:

- Fabric
- Thread or gut
- Head/round knife
- Awl
- Leathering needle
- Raising hammer
- Pliers
- Portable anvil
- Hides or leather

NO glitter. We have plenty.

Comments

[unsheathedfromreality]

A pretty dilemma we find ourselves before -- how sharp its horns! All I have to give you has prior claim upon it, but I may bare it all to you here, where his Eyes have no sight. Yet to find him and pluck those Eyes, Sight-Blinder, you would need to leave this realm, and I could not lead you to my home lest I fall back in his clutches.

O, God-killer! You would duel the Thief and all Her thousand children for me? I am weak to fainting at the thought; never have I been offered such an enormity.

[curzed]

I cannot claim the title of "god-killer", for there are no gods. There is nothing in the heavens but the stars. You mistake the silence for listening, there has never been anyone on the other side.

After all. If such beings existed they would have stopped us by now.

But one thing at a time, if it pleases you. First your monarch. And then your Thief, and all others claiming to be of the same ilk. What better prize can I offer?

[unsheathedfromreality]

You are young, yet, and have not witnessed what I witnessed. The gods are not among the stars alone. Their work is not to interfere continually in our lives, like a new father with his first fledge.

Some day, o Dark-Eyed One, you might see.

Perhaps I will even be there when you do! For such a prize I would bind my banner to yours. I would hand you my unchained, unbeating heart in gratitude. How could I not?

[curzed]

Young perhaps as some species go, but long have my people surrendered the notion that power is the same as divinity. If your planet has raised up unknown creatures to such false but lofty positions, then your planet will simply have to mourn their passing!

Let the echoes of their coming silence be my gift unto you and your world. The next temple to rise will be built of their bones.

weird spacing deliberate, dead dove is Bad

[unsheathedfromreality]

I am the born of the eternal blood of dragons. My people knew a hundred thousand names for the gods and forgot a hundred thousand more before we helped humans out of the trees.

And still we are no more than specks in Divinity's eye, the same as you.

O Butcher! You presume they would not give of themselves gladly, and whisper to us from those ivory-bound cloisters to remind us of who they are. In raising your bone

monument, you may even be their fated agent of rebirth. What a trick!

dead doves are delicious, do eat.

[curzed]

You provide me a wealth of targets! If I must teach even their bones fear and silence, then perhaps this will be worth my time after all.

As reluctant as I am to divide such a delightful prize as your false divines and King of Eyes (and perhaps the Locusts in his wake!), if it proves beyond my ability alone to carve extinction into their fates, my brother and his wolves will gladly accept my invitation.

I can share if I must.