October 23 - Welcome to Gay Hockey Hell
“’Don’t speak Latin in front of the books Derek’,” Derek grumbles to himself, carrying the stack of old books back towards the distribution venue. “What is this? Buffy?”
He places the books gently on the conveyor belt and goes to leave the library. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to get through his medieval lit class without speaking Latin in front of the books. His Latin is terrible and it helps to read it out loud in a French accent because then he can sort of almost figure out what it means without too much effort. But no. Larissa had just about smacked the book out of his hand when he started reading it.
“It’s not like it even says anything,” Derek mutters, picking the book back up from the conveyor belt before it can disappear into the bowels of the library. “It’s not like I’m decoding the frickin’ Voynich.”
He rolls his eyes and opens back to the page he’d been looking at.
“Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me,” he reads. Predictably, nothing happens. Because Latin is not some magical language that has any extra power over the physical universe. That would just be stupid.
He puts the book back on the conveyor belt and turns to leave the library. But there’s a man in the way.
He’s tall like Derek, with flame red hair that seems to crackle with actual fire. His eyes burn as well, flickering between red and orange and gold. And so, like, Derek’s seen some shit when he dropped acid with Shitty that one time, but this is something new.
“Um,” is the only thing that comes out of Derek’s mouth before fire guy raises his eyebrow.
“You called?” fire guy asks.
“I – I did?” Derek asks.
Then he realises. He spoke Latin in front of the books.