ORIGIN

Archon blinked. Learning to read! Simple answer, but... the reality was tougher, he knew. "I'd be happy to help you learn, once we have... time. I think we are short on that at the moment." He said this with very dour, very dry humor.

He did not know what romance fiction was, let alone outright smut, and when Coilean selected a book from the shelf and withdrew it he was none the wiser. He was nodding along already; his new ally's logic seemed solid, at least to him. If they were to pretend at romance, what better way to learn than to read about it?

He opened the book, and ran a claw delicately down one page (not quite touching, so as not to tear the paper). "This is... describing a forest." He flipped a few pages forward. "A--party, a gathering, nothing useful..."

He paged back and forth, briefly scanning and dismissing all those passages that were irrelevant, before pausing. He then began to read in silence, with his lips at first moving and then falling still. Gradually, his brow drew downward in confusion, or consternation, or... worry.

Then his silver eyes began to widen in what looked very much like horror. Slowly, gradually, his face flushed from alabaster pale to a vivid shade of red.

"That's--WHAT?!" he sputtered, and staggered back a step as if struck. His expression contorted between horror and shock and fascination, and then blatant confusion. "There's no way that fits there." He paused. Did some mental math. "...Does it? Is that normal? I wasn't using--that GOES there?!" He looked like he'd just been force-fed a lemon, and held the book out at arm's length before drawing it back in (far too close) and rapidly turning the page.

"Why oil? Is--are they--is that a tongue? Both tongues? Is--oh. That's love?!"

Archon paused, then looked at Coilean for a moment. "Uh." He looked at the book. Then Coilean. "I'm not sure we have enough, um. Leather." He looked at the book, and turned it half sideways; there were illustrations. He hesitantly turned it to Coilean. "Or feathers? Or... whatever those things are."

He cleared his throat, uncertain. "I'm not sure they're giving us any props?"

The haste with which Archon replaced the book into its place on the shelf was so great that it went in upside-down. He glanced at it, shuddered (but stared for too long) and then turned away.

"Please," he agreed, and then began to help pick through the books.

Then he began carefully sliding books off of shelves. He looked through one, and hastily replaced it, pale instead of blushing. Then again, and again. The more books he checked, the more horrified and fascinated he looked. And he kept a running commentary as he went.

"I don't think this would work with claws."

He turned another upside-down, squinting. "Is that--how are they staying in that position? No, no, that won't work on stage..."

"Oh, this one might-... '"We are best friends," said Marjorie, "and until we meet again I want to give you something to remember me by." She pulled off her-'... oh. She takes off her clothes. Is it all... intercourse?" and in sudden furious defense of all things emotional and the arts, Archon threw up his hands. "Where's the EMOTION!?"

If only Archon had known that this stuff was mild. That the worst of it, the really x-rated stuff, was kept under lock and key specifically for situations like this.

He would've certainly aligned with the "haha, ew" perspective, albeit with a little lingering curiosity. But right now he was dedicated to the ARTS, and he was relieved when Coilean suggested that re-enacting this sort of thing wasn't... strictly necessary. "Help me look?" he suggested, wincing as he slid this newest trauma back into its space on the shelf. "I would prefer to find, ahh. Other forms of romance. -Do those exist?" he added, glancing worriedly at the knife-dog.

He then looked around for any indication that there was a safer section of the library. Whoever had arranged this place was no librarian; there was no lifesaving Dewey Decimal here, and while some areas were alphabetically... inclined, it seemed they weren't too strict and didn't continue between sections. And what made each section a category, Archon had yet to figure out.

After a few attempts at picking books and looking at them, and muttering things like "Gardening," or "raising moth larvae? Why?" and then "I didn't know faeries had tails," where he misread a single word's spelling, he at last picked up one book and studied it.

He flipped through, and then glanced up at Coilean, to see if he had anything better at hand. "This one might do? It's... 'young adults pining over forbidden love,'" he added, peering at the blurb that summarized the book. He then looked back at the knife-dog, hoping maybe Coilean had something better.

TWO books. Archon glanced over, studying what Coilean had chosen, and nodded with renewed determination. He was galvanized, abruptly snapping his book shut and striding for a nearby table. "Let's study these, then. Come," he half-commanded, half-invited, pulling back a chair for Coilean before settling in one, himself.

Energy suffused him but it was the sort of extraordinarily serious, even solemn, intensity that indicated a person who'd never known love in their life. He was going to STUDY it, to LEARN it, to UNDERSTAND it--in his mind. In reality it was probably going to be a catastrophic attempt--or at best, result in a clumsy imitation.

"If you set it here I'll try to summarize," he offered, settling himself in with the black robe that cloaked him, then flipping his book open. He skimmed through pages, the severity of his expression showcasing his intense focus. "For this one..."

Apparently it was a bit complex, for it had him reading back and forth, scowling in concentration. After a solid few minutes, he spoke. "Apparently... economic boundaries are an issue? You are--at least, in this culture," he went on, lifting the book and turning it this way and that as if seeking some hint as to the people who had spawned the thing, "meant to only romance those who are of your... social standing? I did not know 'money' was a thing but it... appears equivalent to ranks within the Forge."

It wasn't exactly a romantic takeaway, but he was getting the foundation of a potential drama, at least.

Archon considered the question with knitted brows, leaning back a bit and gazing into the middle distance as he thought about his answer. It was just a shame he didn't know the word "meritocracy." "It's... you do stuff to earn... things. -That's a--that is to say, err." He cleared his throat and flushed at his awkward phrasing. "You perform tasks that benefit the group. Scouting, fighting, gathering food, things like that. In return you earn rewards. Food yourself, or permissions that you have to earn, like time off or creating children outside the Forge, or a name." His nose scrunched up a bit as he looked down at Coilean's book. "It sounds like 'money' is a... sort of a token? Maybe if you don't want to claim your rewards right away, you can claim money and then turn that in for a reward?" He was sort of grasping capitalism, here, in an incredibly weak and metaphorical way.

He studied the manga for a few moments. "This one's... I'm not sure it's a romance? It seems like they're just good friends? Roommates," he added, pointing at the word. "They live together. -Is that part of romance? I think it's only them but there's none of the... uh, props. Accessories. And nothing... too physical. -It seems like they get trapped in the same place a couple times? Is that romance?" he hazarded, confused.

Maybe if you got locked in a laundry room with a roommate, it was 'marriage?'

"Can we... work that in, somehow?" he wondered then, aloud.