(The Emperor)
Your footsteps click on the shiny wood floor. It’s so quiet. You stop walking, and let the silence envelop your. And then start walking again – another sound slides in underneath your footfalls. Was that fabric? Another few yards, and the hall branches off into another, enormous shelves on either side – but can they really be shelves if they can’t actually hold anything? A little further in, sits a figure in a black suit. Their long, severely narrow legs are crossed, and you can’t make out their face.
Upright
You’re in their domain, whatever that may mean. Not entirely sure of yourself, you take a few more steps to approach. The angle of the shelf edges change with you in an eerie optical illusion, and you still can’t see their face. You can, however, now see directly down the aisle immediately to your side, which fractals off in yet more nauseating shelves and halls, so you look away. The Librarian’s hand is now out – in it, sits a little wooden compass. You may not have much idea what’s going on, but at least there’s someone encouraging you to explore a little more safely.
Reversed
Still as slowly, you pick an aisle and make your way down, toward the branching paths. A glance over your shoulder turns into a full spin – the shelves no longer cover the rest of the Librarian, but there’s no rest of the Librarian to see. Back in the light of the hall sits half a cardboard cutout of someone in a black suit with their legs crossed, cut off at around the line of where the shelving had covered. You glance down to the compass in your hand, the needle wobbling wildly, and then jump back as the shelves begin to creak. Slowly, they close around you, forcing you into the dark, before you can make sense of what’s going on and make a decision for yourself.
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