So you've picked the aesthetic behind your theme or what story you want it to tell. You've decided if you want to have a light theme or dark theme. You've maybe even done some preliminary sketches of your design. Great! The next step is picking out specific colors to make a palette and your background and header images and stuff, right? Well, not quite.
There's more layers to why we pick out the color palette we do - color theory to pick out a palette that looks good, and accessibility to pick out colors and images that are accessible to all viewers to read. But what does it actually mean for colors to look good or for a page to be accessible? Let's take a deep dive into each.
"Good" Colors:
Colors have associations listed with them. These can compliment or hinder the message you're trying to tell with your theme. You would probably use green with a theme about nature, and grey with a color about technology or industry, right? Well, what if your nature theme was about mountains or your technology theme meant to look like the motherboard of a computer? Creative use of colors can "break" these common associations, but what colors are primarily associated with when you first think of them can be a good place to start when drafting up a theme palette from scratch. Here's a simple table with some more abstract ideas to get you started:
(table here)
Again, you don't have to abide by this list to a T, if you want to use a specific color, go for it! These are just to help you get started with some common vibes.
Okay, so you've picked some colors that match the associations that you want your theme to convey. Great! How do you make sure they go together?
Color theory comes into play here. Color schemes are common groupings of colors that tend to work well together.
(image here)
If you're struggling to pick a second color or an accent color, see what color scheme your palette is already falling under, and pick one that is apart of that scheme.
Some tools to help you out with this are the following websites (list here). Play around with them! Get used to looking at colors and note which groupings you like and why! Save them for future reference!
Accessibility:
So you have some palettes or colors in mind. The next step is how we put them together with the rest of our images and textures to make our theme. This is where accessibility comes into play.
Accessibility refers to how accessible your design is to the average viewer. What does that mean? Well, can your viewer read what's on the page? Is it an enjoyable experience, or a strained one? Are all navigational features present and viewable?
This might sound sort of silly, but remember, your theme is a compliment to things going on the site. While a work of art on it's own, aesthetics can not get in the way of having your page be readable. This means both the writing posted to the page, and the navigational site elements that make the site function.
The biggest thing to focus on here is contrast. Your text needs to be readable, and having colors with low contrast to their background (the colors are too similar to one another, either in hue or tone), creates accessibility issues and is not permitted on the site. Additional, too much contrast using neon or garish colors, can also create eye strain and be another accessibility issue.
Some tools to help you check the contrast of your colors are these websites. (List here.)
Other accessibility things, as pointed out on our sister site's guide, to consider are the following.
• Is this theme readable for colorblind people? (e.g. it employs bad color combinations like red + green which make it difficult for colorblind users to navigate the site)
• Does this theme hamper the ability to use screen readers? (e.g. it adds 'invisible' content which gets read by screen readers but not sighted users)
• Are the fonts it uses legible for all users? (e.g. the body font size is too small, the font itself is difficult to read)
• Could the theme induce a photosensitive epileptic seizure? (e.g. it has rapidly flashing colors or alternating patterns) If so, these elements must be removed.
In terms of site navigation, the page still needs to look like its apart of Library. Any navigational elements, the rating module, and translation module cannot be removed, hidden, or "broken". Do not break the structure or look of the site beyond realistic expectations - the site needs to be recognizable and readable.
Don't be afraid to change your colors or background textures or images or whatever to meet these accessibility requirements! In fact, you'll need to - usability needs to come before aesthetics. If you're really connected to an idea but don't know how to make it work functionally - feel free to ask! Workshop! Get feedback on your themes!
The Technical Side of Things:
Okay, you've learned the theory behind what makes a great theme. Here are the more technical considerations behind making your theme that you'll need to think about and include. A lot of this, again, comes from our sister site's css guide, which you should definitely give a read if you ever want to consider posting themes there as well!
Licensing:
All assets used in your theme have to be compatible with our site license. Additionally, the theme must be released under the same license as the rest of the site.
Basic functionality:
Your CSS theme must work well in the major browsers (Chromium, Firefox, Safari) and be at least functional in minor ones (IE 11 etc).
Your CSS theme must work well on mobile as well as desktop.
Bloat Code:
Every line of code should have a reason as to why it was included. You cannot have huge portions of code that do not do anything. So do not copy paste huge portions of our site's main Dustjacket theme and then just leave it there/don't do anything with it. Your code should contain very little except for what the theme is actually changing.
Hotlinking:
If uploading images to use on your theme page, they must be uploaded to the theme page itself. You cannot use discord links, imgur links, or even links to a sandbox to load the images. Localize everything to the theme page itself.
The exception to this is fonts - you can use Google Fonts for example. Ask a staff member when in doubt.
HTTPS
Your CSS theme must be completely functional on the HTTPS version of the site (https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/). This means any internal @imports or url(…) references must refer to HTTPS URLs. For Wikidot, this means that the link takes the form https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/SLUG-OF-PAGE/FILENAME.
Approval, Posting, and Deletion of Theme Pages:
Once you've gotten everything built, everything reviewed, and everything polished up, the next step is to present your theme sandbox to staff. Do your best to format it like other theme pages - show off the custom assets you've made, what tables and tabs look like, anything that commonly comes up or is used often. And tell us a little bit about your theme too! What inspired it, what it is for, anything like that.
Staff will then work with you to give you any final pieces of feedback, and will then walk you through the actual posting process. You will need to contact staff for the full instructions past that point - see how to contact staff in the orientation's meet the staff section, or through our discord chat's #help-desk channel. Staff will also let you know if it is best to create a theme component page (if the theme is going to be used more than once), or if it's best to host it locally on a page (if it's only going to be used on that page).
Similarly, for deleting themes already on the site, please contact staff for assistance on that process.
Other things to add later:
credit css policy page from wiki in author notes
create image examples
link websites
fix formatting
fonts?
patterns?
The early morning fog hung low in the sky, covering the bay in a thick grey blanket. It was still dark, as the sun had not yet peaked its head up over the distant coastal mountains. The local fauna had awakened; however, as the killdeer trilled and a lone leopard shark lazily swam under the dock. They were not bothered by the cold or by the thick smell of salty mud as they started their day, oblivious to the tall figure standing on the dock above them.
Basar gazed out across the water, watching the birds swirl through the fog and carry the vapor trails on their wings. Standing there in a wrinkled suit with many sleepless nights clinging to him, he knew he was out of place, but at least he was alone. He was about an hour's drive South of his facility, standing at a sad excuse of a "beach" that was really just an offshoot of a local shipping channel. The barges would still be docked here, as the factory they brought stone for processing at hadn't opened its doors for business yet.
Perhaps one of the few benefits of running the site the rest of the Foundation turned a blind eye to was the fact it gave Basar, and by extension, his staff and employees, a lot more flexibility. At least, at one point it had been like that. The Foundation's views on anomalous personnel - those with abilities different than the norm - were changing, and now that they were actually considering hiring them rather than shunting them all off to Basar's facility, his site was growing smaller and smaller and more obsolete. Basar wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the year, they'd ask him to "retire", as even though he was a site director, his niche specialties would make it hard for him to transfer.
The questions that always itched in the back of Basar's mind rose up again - why hadn't the Foundation done any studies on him, like they did other anomalous personnel? And to be made a site director so quickly? He was qualified - having worked his way up through the Ethics Committee - but he had seen the other hoops anomalous personnel had to jump through just to get hired for low ranking positions. His future sight - the thing that made him anomalous - was limited, and hardly ever granted anything useful beyond how someone might react to what he had to say. But still - to not test that? Investigate it? What kept him hidden from sight from the most omnipotent organization the world had to offer? The stoic expression that was always plastered onto Basar's face shifted, as the bottom of his lips turned just slightly into a frown. The moment passed though and the neutral expression returned as Basar turned his attention to the boat docked next to him.
It was a single scull with a wider hull - meant for recreation rather than racing. Out of all the boats here, it had the best chance of supporting his weight. The shell bobbed idly in the water, the oarlock on the end of the closest rigger gently tapping against the dock's surface. With a small huff, Basar knelt down, undoing the oarlocks and adjusting the spacers to be at his height, before with another loud huff, standing and going to get his pair of oars. Again, now with the oars in hand, he knelt down, placing one through each oarlock, before locking them in place and rattling them slightly to make sure they were secure. The movements, while out of practice, were familiar to him, but whatever memories from his youth that aided him in these actions were as clear to him as the opposite shore was in the fog.
Sliding the farthest oar out until the collar clicked against the oarlock, Basar slowly stepped into the boat, between the seat's tracks and careful not to shift his weight too suddenly. The boat creaked under his weight, but remained buoyant as he stepped in with his other foot. Lowering himself down, he took a seat on the sliding seat, and stretched out his legs so that his feet were against the footplate. Whoever had used this boat before him had been much, much shorter, so there was yet another pause as he took a moment to adjust the boat to his preferences. Finally was he able to slip his dress shoes into the pair of shoes mounted to the footplate - technically something that was frowned upon, as you were supposed to remove your shoes before strapping your feet in, and again how Basar knew this he wasn't entirely sure - but they went in with little complaint.
Slowly he pushed his way down the dock before reaching the end, and with a large shove, the boat went gliding out across the water. Both oars were pushed against their locks for stability as Basar watched the little wake in front of him. Checking over his shoulder, he could barely see where he was headed, and without bow and stern lights he'd be invisible in the fog, but that's what he was hoping for. He had about two hours to get to his destination - a collapsed trestle of a nearby railway bridge - undetected, after which time the sun would rise and begin burning away the blanket of fog keeping him obscured.
The row out to the bridge was slow, but largely uneventful. It took a few minutes of shakily working his way up to a full stroke, hesitant to move too quickly or too far in fear of tipping the boat, before Basar could comfortably get the boat moving in an efficient matter. His muscles groaned, as while Basar was, for the most part, in pretty good shape for his age, fatigue and exhaustion wore him down. On he went though, past the harbor, past the parked barges, and out into the bay. The fog obscured the channel markers until they loomed much too close to the boat for comfort, but they provided enough of a guide that Basar could find his way.
The rail bridge was quite a sorry sight. The very first bridge to span across the bay, aiming to bring prosperity to the rail lines, it now sat abandoned for forty or so odd years. As Basar approached the collapsed trestle, he could hear the metal groan and whine under the strain of its own weight, as well as the quiet lapping of the waves against the support beams. He slowed the boat to a stop before reaching out and grabbing a hold of one of the fallen pieces of metal, docking himself against it.
Sunlight had begun to pierce through the fog, warming an already exhausted Basar as he sat under the bridge and caught his breath. As he watched the bay start to appear around him, questions swirled in his mind again - why was he here? A hunch, no, specifically a dream had brought him here, out onto the middle of the bay, to go to a place that was not only well above his pay grade, but also a place the Foundation was supposedly banned from. Supposedly - he had read reports of others, rarely getting through, but said reports were rare and few between, and often did not end kindly in the Foundation's favor. Yet here he was, on the cusp of a Way, about to step into the largest library in the multiverse - the Wanderer's Library.
Or at least, that was what he was supposed to do. Basar considered himself a man of logic, of reason, of no nonsense protocol. That, even despite working in a world of the anomalous, everything could be explained and rationed down into a single course of action. A poster child for the Foundation, he was, but that didn't bother him. But sitting out here, following a dream of all things, did, and with that Basar was perplexed.
The dream hadn't even been that much - it had shown him the halls of a grand library, full of human sized bug-like creatures. A strange kinship had been felt as he looked up at one, watched it scramble down a bookcase and hand him a book - a leather-bound sketchbook with an eye on the cover - his eye. The one burned onto his forehead. The one that no one seemed to notice except him. Everyone could see his centipede tattoo, but the eye remained hidden from sight, much like his discolored skin.
Then, flashes. Of an aquatic center an hour South of his facility. Of which boat wouldn't be noticed if it was taken. Directions to the rail bridge utilizing the channel markers. A fond oceanic memory being required to open the door to the Library - the short term memory of you going here for the first time will work - the dream seemed to suggest, aware of the lapses that occurred often in Basar's thoughts, that he was more gifted in seeing ahead than in behind.
And that had been it. Basar had woken up at his desk earlier this morning - 3:35 AM it had been, that only being remembered because Basar had taken the time to note the whole encounter down. Yet he did not report it in, file it away for later, instead he took it with him, found the directions to the aquatic center, and had immediately made his way down here. A poster child of the Foundation he had just called himself, but here he was breaking one of the very basic rules - acting on impulse, following a gut reaction, logic nowhere to be seen. But he was still doing it. He was here. And for the first time in forever, Basar felt alive. He was making his own choices, of his own volition - he was a person for once! He held that thought with him - the smell of the sea, the taste of fresh air away from the city, the burn in his chest that told him for once, he was more than just a walking symbol of authority - stood up in the boat, his hand gently gliding against the wet metal, before stepping off of the boat and into the dark water below.
"Ayman listen - listen! If I chew on the crayon to just a sharp enough point, I can use it to sign documents!"
A huge, lumbering beast, taller than the average bookshelf and resembling a fuzzy caterpillar with an owl's beak for a face, swung its massive neck across the kiosk to look down at a swarm of hands busy filing papers. The hands - humanoid, for the most part, and around six of them - buzzed around the office space, grabbing, sorting, folding, inking, and carrying files to and fro.
"Just focus on handing out cards right now, Owlpede." The hands signed in front of Owlpede's face, before a small group of them returned to float above a headless humanoid's body, adorned in a beige vest and button down. This creature was much smaller than its companion, sitting at around six feet tall at the shirt collar, and was presumably the one named Ayman.
"But that's boring! No one ever stops by our desk anymore!"
"Maybe that's because you got us moved out of the Main Hall and now we're towards the West end of Hall One, Third Port Off Left - or practically, the middle of nowhere." Upon second thought, one of the pairs of Ayman's hands returned to Owlpede's face to sign. Seems they were stuck in conversation.
"It's not nowhere! There's spaceships! But they never seem to want a Library card."
"Because we already gave them cards at the Station some time ago. They don't need another."
Owlpede let out a small harumpf of frustration and swung his massive head back to look out across the Library. Perhaps Ayman was right - there was no one out here. Most entities only passed through the area as it was a flight path for many flying species or modes of transportation. In turn, the shelves were short and grey, more of steel banks than wooden ledges, and hidden between gnarled masses of tubing. They were filled with heavy solid state drives, so nothing would get blown away. The Archivists' desk was less of a desk and more of a lone call station box, sitting off to the edge where the Library opened up to more of an endless expanse of cosmically inspiring liminal space.
A set of small footsteps pulled Owlpede's attention back over towards the shelves. Followed closely behind them was the smell of salt and seawater - a smell Owlpede hadn't experienced in awhile, not since being stationed over in Wing Two for the Depth's flooding event. The source of the sound made itself apparent as a human emerged from between the shelves, looking lost and confused. Odd that the human was alone - typically a Docent would sniff this kind of nervousness out and guide them where they needed to be.
"There are Docents. Don't you feel them?" Ayman had stopped sorting and a silence fell over the two as he pointed off in the distance. Docent lantern light, glowing in the darkness, slowly pulsating a dark eerie red. To the Archivists, it felt like a dull thudding pain growing closer.
"They're upset." Owlpede kept his focus on the human, puzzled. He tensed slightly as he continued to examine the figure. "Crumpled… suit. And tie. Jailor?"
"They're upset enough to warn us but not enough to issue a formal warning to the Library herself. I think they're just as confused by the patron as the patron is to be here."
"Patron? So the human is a Wanderer? Not a Jailor?" Owlpede breathed a sigh of relief.
“I… don’t know.” Ayman hesitated, one of his shoulders dropping slightly as if he was tilting his nonexistent head. “I just used the title that was suggested. But – well – if they are a patron of the Library, they should have a card. Go – look for one once they get closer and we can gleam a name.”
“But I want to say hi! To the mystery-“ Owlpede was shoved further back into the desk area as the patron approached. The Archivists watched as the human came to a stop before them, and despite being fairly large for a human, had to crane his head to look up at them. Normally, the Library would shift its appearance, making the desk smaller and more welcoming to the newcomer, but it did not. The Library herself seemed to be holding her breath, watching, and waiting, for the patron to make a move first.
“Afternoon.” The man stood there, his formal wear covered in dried sea salt, and seemed to know he was very much out of place. Revealed below his rolled up sleeve was a centipede… tattoo, perhaps, but it appeared burned on rather than inked. The same texture of injury was on his forehead too, but much fainter, of an eye sigil. They contrasted darkly against his pale, discolored skin – the color of a bruised, decaying body, awash in shades of purple and blue. As the Archivists stared, he stared back, and seemed to realize they could see him, truly see him, for what he actually was. This seemed to discomfort him, but that was only revealed by the Archivists being able to see true nature, as the stoic figure’s face did not betray a single ounce of emotion.
"Afternoon!" Ayman signed with a pair of his many floating hands, sending a telepathic message straight into the man's head. Another wave of discomfort emanated from the man. "What brings you to the Library?"
"I suppose I am looking for a book." A lie, sensed the Archivist. Or rather, only a partial truth - a fragment of the actual reasoning the patron was here. Well, that wasn’t too unusual, given the many reasons folks came to the Library.
"Okay!" Ayman sent a ping out for a nearby Page. The bug-like creatures, adorned with multiple sets of arms, were the Library's main way of sorting and retrieving books, though admittedly they worked a little slower in this section as the creatures were built for climbing, not dodging spaceships. "Do you know the title of said book?"
"It did not have one." A pause, as the man slowly tapped his forehead, seeming to remember that the Archivists could truly see him. "Had this sigil on it, rather."
"You want the Rafter Ghost's book?" Owlpede had managed to break free of the hands keeping him towards the back of the desk area and suddenly swung forward. Ayman watched as curiously, instead of flinching back, a small pulse of magic emanated from the man, and he remained standing calmly still.
" The Gatekeeper's Sketchbook." Ayman corrected. "Typically patrons come here to return said book when the artist ends up dropping it somewhere. We've never had anyone request to check it out directly."
"Is that so?" That seemed to make the man more nervous than having Owlpede in his face did. "Will there be a problem with my request, then?"
"No! Not at all! Just means we need to track down where the book currently is, and if the artist is currently working on said book. Then you might need to wait, or you could seek out the artist directly if you wanted to ask it about its art or something like that."
"What did you say your name was?" Owlpede had swung back around to rummage through some drawers. Ayman could tell he had already found something.
"You can call me Basar." Another small pulse of magic.
"Then I found your card! Here you go!" Owlpede handed Basar a library card. "Looks like someone dropped it off earlier this morning! You should really try not to lose a hold of it. Some people won't be as nice returning it! Or someone will eat it. Like what happens to my crayons."
"What do you mean you found my card?" Basar looked down at the card in his hands. "I - I have not been here before."
The two Archivists looked at each other, then back at Basar, then back at each other again. Telepathic bickering began.
Who dropped it off?
I don't know! It just appeared on the desk earlier!
And you didn't think to tell me?
You said I could handle all card related duties!
And it's not a fake card?
No! But he does look a little different.
Who issued it?
I did! That's how I know it's not fake!
And you didn't recognize him?
Take a look for yourself!
"May I?" Ayman extended one of his hands out. The card was placed in his palm. Both Archivists peered down to stare at it with their eyeless faces. What they were doing, exactly, was unclear to Basar, but Ayman could tell it seemed to be appreciated.
The card was Basar's card, issued by Owlpede some 30 or so years ago by the human's standard of time. Humans did change as they age, but not drastically enough that the Library shouldn't be able to recognize them for who they are after a decade or two. Peering closer at the card, Ayman began to dig through his memory, trying to recall who this person was, but nothing more than a vague nostalgia came to mind.
"What's your name?" Owlpede asked again. Ayman ran a finger over where the true name would be on the card - would be. The name slot wasn't blank, but it was distorted, only a part of the name was there. The identification callsign on the card had been scratched out, and replaced with a crude carving of a centipede.
"You can call me Basar." The human repeated. Human? No, something wasn't right here. He was an atypical and perhaps magical human, sure, but there was something else that made him lean non-human. The name Basar was on the card though and the etched in centipede matched his tattoo, so the card had to belong to him, but what the hell had happened to this card?
"Basar what? Doesn't your type typically have a last name of some sort?"
"Yes, but, Basar is my last name."
"So what's your first name?"
"Basar."
"Basar Basar?"
"No… Just Basar." The figure paused for a minute, thinking. "I used to have another name, a nickname, but I never claimed ownership of it, and it would have been given to me after I would have… presumably ordered this card." Another long pause. "A first name. A first… name. What was I called before I was just Basar?"
"I dunno! That's why I'm asking you!"
The distorted card yielded no further answers. While the theft of true names was very common, it took powerful, rarer magic to vandalize a name to the point it would be erased from history - from even the Library's records. Ayman mulled it over - was it worth calling over one of the Senior Archivists or even the Chief Archivists for something like this? He handed the card back to Basar. The Docents were still lurking nearby, their warning signals only slightly fading now that they saw an Archivist was handling the situation. No - the two of them could handle this, and maybe then they'd get to move back to the Main Desk area after solving such a complex case!
"Well, Basar," Ayman started, gesturing towards the card now in Basar's hands. "It looks like someone didn't steal your name, but rather… corrupted a part of it. Are you familiar with anyone or any specific event that might have done that to you?"
"Take your damn pick." Despite the amused huff that came after that sentence, the emotion that came across the man's face was one of exhaustion and melancholy. Ayman's hands faulted for a moment, surprised by the sudden intense emotion radiating off of Basar. And while at one moment it looked like the man may cry, in nearly an instance his face shifted back to the same stony expression as the conversation continued.
"Just being here could get me terminated. But I would not be surprised if my retirement in a month meant the same outcome."
Terminated? What kind of work does this guy do?
Gleam him again!
Ayman tilted his torso forward ever so slightly, with Owlpede mimicking him from behind. Again, only a vague nostalgia came forward. A man who was only remembered when it was convenient, relevant, or when there was work needed to be done. Otherwise forgotten, cast aside, and just a bystander to his own life's work. Achievements he had made credited to other people. Those he had helped growing up and moving on. Things he was proud of were broken, or considered trash. And while humble on a good day, exhaustion took over the majority, and thus no change was ever made. A walking wall of authority who could not stand up for himself, only the corporation he was a face of.
But as Ayman peered closer, he could see the cracks forming. A light, while faint, glowed inside the man. One of talent, of adventure, of a love of helping others. That, while discredited, kept doing his work because it needed to get done regardless. A person who carried the weight on his shoulders and asked for nothing in return. Someone who-
Jailor! Jailor pin! On his shirt!
Ayman's attention snapped to Basar's shirt collar. A collar pin held the tie in place, and in each button hole was a decorative button - an eye on the left, and the Jailor's insignia on the right. Both Archivists tensed, bewildered at the possibility that a Jailor was standing right before them.
A pulse of magic. Basar turned his back to the Archivists, looking around the open port behind them. The faint red glow had multiplied, as a group of Docents were now waiting nearby, but still - they waited. None approached any closer as Basar turned back to face the Archivists.
"What are you doing here, Jailor?" Ayman asked cautiously. "How did you get here?"
"A dream led me here." He said, finally. Another long pause. "I understand the hatred towards the Foundation -"
"Understand? You understand?" Ayman looked over in surprise to see Owlpede, fur bristling, begin to raise to his full height. It wasn’t often Owlpede expressed any other emotions besides hunger or boredom. "You couldn't possibly begin to understand the amount of harm you've caused. The amount of lives you've ruined. Leave. Now. Before I call over the Chief to eat you. Or before I do it myself!"
Ayman, still gleaming information from the Jailor, watched as that spark of light - the desire to stand up for himself, quickly went out. As Owlpede hissed at Basar, he stood calmly, before giving a small nod and turning to leave.
"Not so fast." A voice echoed from the infinite space behind the bookshelves. Out of the darkness, a porcelain mask emerged, an emotionless smile carved into its surface. After looming for a moment in the atmospheric fog, a hand stepped forward, followed by another, and another, until a canine-like beast emerged from the shadows. It had a serpentine neck, much too long for its body, with a tail to match. Its limbs were stretched and distorted, and while it walked on all fours like a dog, when it approached the desk - which it towered over in comparison, even to the Archivists - it sat down like a human. Carried in one of its human-like hands (paws?) was a terrified Page, clinging to the book Basar had requested. This was the Gatekeeper's pet: Uncertainty - the oldest of the masked canines.
"We're a little busy, Uncy." Owlpede hissed. Ayman watched as Uncy played with the Page like a doll, holding it by a pair of its arms, dangling it from many feet up in the air. It plucked the book out of the Page's hands before dropping the Page with a small flick of its fingers, sending it flying across the clearing. The Page landed with a soft crunch before quickly picking itself up and scuttling away as fast as its bowed legs would carry it. Harming the Library was punishable by things worse than death, but Uncy simply ignored Ayman's pained disapproval as it dusted its hands off and handed the book to Basar. It then stood, motioning for Basar to follow it, though the human seemed reluctant to do so.
“A little busy doing what? Being bad at your jobs? Remind me, how long ago was it that you were banished here to the Third Port of Left?”
“Uncertainty, please.” If Ayman could let out an audible sigh, he would have done so. Owlpede took his attention off of Basar to bristle at Uncy instead.
“Busy dealing with a JAILOR. In the LIBRARY.”
“That’s no Jailor. That’s a patron of the Library. He has a card, does he not?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And what Jailor has a Library card?”
“None do, but-”
“He could still inform the Jailors about the Library with whatever connections he does have.” Ayman cut in, trying to help Owlpede out. Uncy didn’t even bother to look at them, instead examining and picking at the dirt under its nails.
“Are you going to do that?” Uncy asked Basar, finally looking away from its nails to glance down at the human who had been standing there awkwardly.
“No, I would likely be killed for breaking protocol, regardless of whatever information I found.”
“Well there, problem solved, no?” Uncy turned to leave. It wrapped its tail around Basar, turning him around as well so that the human had no choice but to follow it. “Come with me, old man, off we go now.”
“Wait, no, that’s not how this works!” Owlpede strained to leave his desk, to go follow after them, but due to the laws of the Library, he was constrained in place. Ayman watched quietly, gleaming Basar once more, and could tell he was being truthful. Something about this situation was so odd - the card, a Jailor finding their way in, even Uncy making one of its rare appearances - but perhaps that was the will of the Library. It had to have approved of giving Basar a card, after all, so perhaps it wasn't worth questioning.
“Do you want me to call the Chief over to tell him you’ve fucked up again? Denying a patron entry to the Library? If the Docents have let him get this far, what do you care?” Uncy was already walking the pair away.
“Let them go.” Ayman said quietly to Owlpede, pulling him back once more with a pair of hands. Owlpede muttered what could only be a string of curses in his native language, but heeded Ayman’s suggestion, and thus the Archivists watched the figures disappear into the shelves, soon nothing more but another one of the shadows between the stars that decorated the cosmic expanse between the Library wings. Ayman had a feeling they weren’t getting back to the Main Desks any time soon.
The walk through the Library was overwhelming, to say the least. Used to the clean, clinical, and organized feel of Foundation hallways, the cluttered, thrown-together disorganized mess of endlessly tall shelves was giving Basar a headache. That, combined with his sensitivity to magic, quickly turned said headache into a migraine. His vision blurred slightly as spaces seemed to merge together - first they had been some sort of space related cosmic expanse, then something that resembled a city, next a more traditional library filled with wooden shelves, and now where they were currently in a place that felt most like home - a quiet, uneventful stretch of ocean with a scattering of bottled messages awashed on its shores.
Uncertainty finally slowed once they reached the beach, taking a moment to sort through the bottles delicately with its two front paws. Basar noticed that while the creature hunched down to more easily look at and read the contents in the bottles, it refused to sit in the sand, and kept shifting its weight in an uncomfortable matter as the sand clumped to its fur. Eventually, it picked up one of the bottles - a beautiful old blue one embossed with features that made it look like a mini cathedral - looked it over once, before proceeding to scan the distant waves for something Basar couldn't see. He watched as the dog's head snapped onto a distant shadow, and after a moment, chucked the bottle as hard as it could.
The bottle sailed through the air, and with surprise, Basar watched as it shattered right above the water's surface. Squinting, he watched as what he assumed was the silhouette of some other creature rub its head in surprise, rise out of the water more to look at them, before sinking back into the water. He looked over at Uncertainty, who was now approaching the water's edge.
