Autumn Party 11

Azra got distracted before she could come up with an answer. The man in black had been reaching for the book that had been lying on the ground, but changed the gesture and pointed instead, midly confused. "Are they supposed to do that?"

The book had risen on a myriad of insectiod legs and was running, extremities undulating millipede-style, for cover under the nearest chair.

There were a very few rustles and sqeaks around the room.

"Maybe not this lucid," the monk said thoughtfully.

"I got the impression that's a dictionary, actually," Azra commented. She finished her circle of the room while watching the book crawl into the shadow. Crouching so continue watching it, she said, to the world at large, "That is unusual," before turning to her old acquaintance with, "I think you scared it."

He shrugged. "Wasn't trying to."

Around the room maybe three or four round spine decorations turned out to be closed eyes, as they opened to watch the visitors with more or less mild interest. At the top shelf on the wall behind the trio a very small volume in addition to that coiled out three thin toes from the base f its spine. It grabbed the edge of the shelf with that foot, and pulled itself forward until it fell, turning the plunge into a rather erratic flight by way of flapping its covers.
It attempted to land on the monk's shoulder.

This was getting a bit too strange. Oh well. The monk blinked when his ears picked up the flapping sound, but the hood distorted the sounds enough to cause him to turn around.

He caught the book with his face.

The book bounced off and scrambled for purchase. It eventually managed, grabbing hold of some fabric where its humanoid perche's lapels would be. It clung there, spine up, single eye rolling. It was rather awkward.

The lapels' owner blinked, looked up at the others and shrugged.

"Kill him," the dragon repeated affirmatively. "Or rip up his shoes, anyway."

Ebani nodded at the dragon. "Badly trained pets are a pain."

---

Azra plucked the confused little book from the monk and set it on a nearby table, where it righted itself, flapping a cover, until it sat on the one foot at the base of the spine. It ruffled its pages, and the eye rolled curiously at the visitors.

The man in black looked at the handful of other watching books and said, "I wonder what they eat."

Azra's proximity startled the monk, although he wasn't certain why. Up until now he hadn't been thinking about it, but he gave Azra a very curious look even as he thanked her.

"I wonder, too. Perhaps they just eat air," he said placidly and reached a hand to pat the little book.

"Or bookworms. Or they might suck out the minds of unwary readers," Azra speculated cheerfully, while the little book snuggled up to the touch.

The man in black snorted and had another look at the folio that had crawled off. The book ducked further into the shadow, and he backed off again. "They seem harmless enough."

"I do feel a little strange," said the monk, lower lip pouting miserably. It didn't stop him from patting the book, which he thought was quite adorable.

"You might blame the alcohol," Azra remarked. "It's bad for you. I never drink wine."

"Everything is bad for you," said the monk, "everything aside from sitting on your knees in a cold stone room, followed by a suitably ascetic meal of soup and dark bread."

---

Serpentine nodded gravely at what Ebani said.

"That actually sounds to me like it's bad for your knees."

"Lady's grace in all it's forms," he said cheerfully.

"Wouldn't stiff knees get in the way of being graceful?" Azra seemed genuinely confused.

The man in black meanwhile took a closer look at one of the other eyed books, a bigger volume bound in green leather, shelved at eye-height.

---

Another servant entered the hall. She had a very quietly wispered conversation with the greeter, after which both of them went up the stairs.

"Oh, but no. Stiff knees are the mark of a pious man, and piety is grace full and well," said the monk, blinking innocent eyes. The smile on his face was mischievous.

---

And just what the hell are they doing? wondered Serpentine as he watched the servant and greeter leave. He was finally drunk enough to care.

"So breaking some kneecaps would make the world on average more godly?" Azra asked back.

The green book's golden eye looked from the conversing pair to the man in black, rolled, and winked at him, provoking a raised eyebrow and an amused curl of lips.

"I suppose technically, but it is implied that only the kind of stiff knees acquired through meditation and prayer count. Picky," responded the monk, clicking his tongue.

"And how do you tell? If you meet some random person with stiff knees on the street, I mean?"