They're a bookworm, they thought they had died. They awaken in a place that is rows upon rows of books further than the eye could see, almost more than a mind could possibly fathom. An eternity to read them all, with comforts, meals, and even washrooms. What is this wonderous world? -- Anon Guest
It was a wonderfully comfortable bed. Darlenydd didn't really want to wake up, but the looming cluster of recollection kept poking her towards consciousness. There had been some recent upsets. Bigger, meaner people. Rough demands. There had been pain, yes. And a bright light, and...
Now ze was here. In a cosy bedroom with everything ze could dream of. Even the cats. Darlenydd slowly extracted hirself, feeling no pain. The calico, the tux, and the mackeral tabby on hir bed mewled a little in protest. The tux woke up and plopped onto the floor, weaving between Darlenydd's ankles. Purring up a storm as it went.
There were shelves everywhere. Shelves full of books. Some favourites ze recognised, some ones ze had wanted to read since forever. Lots of others that, on initial inspection, seemed like titles ze might enjoy. This wasn't hir house. This was hir best dream of a house.
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