Miranda leaves the sickening smells and terrible feelings of the hospice hall, the sights and visions still churning inside her soul, like poisoned food.
The red carpeted hallway offers two choices, but the open doorway in front of her, just a bit to the left, was too attractive. It was a smell she knew well and had loved all her life. After all that sickness, any smell would do, but, the smell of old books was sweeter than summer honeysuckle to her nose. She suddenly feels a bit invigorated and hopeful - maybe not all in this bizarre place she mysteriously finds herself is horrific.
<aside> 🎲 The good feeling increases her guts die one rank to d8.
</aside>
This beautiful two-story library has a slanted glass roof that acts as a skylight. Books line the walls over ten feet high. A sliding ladder on the north and south walls help readers find what they want. Shelves and tables in the room sport even more books. A scribe’s desk shows where the librarian may have sat, collating the thousands of articles in the room. Two spiral staircases of wrought iron twist upwards to doorways on the second story above. A small doorway to the south has a sign on it that says “Records”.
Miranda walks through the sliding door, that is slid open, and begins looking around, taking in as much as she can at once, before investigating anything close up. Well, taking in as much as she can with only lantern light. She gets a good idea of the layout of the room and the shelves and tables and such by walking along the southern wall toward the wall of books on the west wall.
This room is deep quiet. Not a single echo. Sounds fall flat to the floor or sink into the books and wooden shelves.
And so the sound of the ladder on the west wall moving is perfectly clear.
When Miranda looks, she sees something she didn't notice before.
A small stack of books is floating in the air.
Just hanging there, but moving, ever so slightly, as though being held by a hand, rather than a surface.
And that's when one book rises up and places itself, upright, in an vacant space on the shelf. Again, as though an unseen hand was putting back in its rightful place.