EXACTLY two days slow~! {zackery}

[hedgerz]

Wally Malone did not know why he was here.

Walter Amadeus Malone. In a library. It would be a complete shock to anyone who knew him. Though, people who knew him didn't really frequent libraries, either. So his reputation was safe, for now.

But seriously. Wally, that guy who tended to burst into song whenever he thought of one, which was always, the guy who spent more hours of the day in a nightclub than in his own home, even though the volume was about the same, had to be quiet for however length of time he stayed there.

Surprisingly, he had done well so far.

Wally needed a break. Which was insane for him yes. But honestly, no human could party as much as he did and not need some piece and quiet some time.

So here he was, sitting in the kid's section (not suprising; if anyone were to picture him in a library it would probably be the kids section), reading (yes, reading) a collection of Lewis Carroll stories and poems, tapping a random pencil he had found lying on the table. Unfortunately, his pencil-tapping skills had not improved from the teen years, so eventually, it flipped out of his hand and soared toward the little table next to him.

At first he was afraid it would hit the lamp.

But instead, it directly hit the pretty little clock, somehow with enough force to knock it on the ground and break the glass. It was probably already on the end anyways.

Shit.

"Shit!"

Wally was louder than he meant, and he could hear his voice echoing throughout the emptyish library. Well, he could still hide it, right?

He scrambled to get up and grab the clock and the little shards of glass off the ground, attempting to put them back together. The craft table was nearby, so he started stuffing the clock with glue and glitter and stickrs and anything he could find to fix it, not realizing that he was probably making it worse.

[zack]

The clock. Made by a small but upcoming clock maker on the other side of New York was a young antic. The clock maker was only in his late thirties, and it was one of his first ever pieces of workings bought for a cheep price back in the day. It was made of newer parts, crafted much earlier then a normal antique would be required to be, the thing about this clock was the design. It held onto many older and harder to find designs crafted into newer and studier wooden framing. It was one of his favorites and since of his antics and needing of clocks and times to be everywhere he had placed it in one of the more open area’s of the library so that it was free to be seen by many young and old, though it was set out with an old storybook about a mouse and a clock the storybook was no where to be found that day, most likely the reason it had been moved out of place.

Though it was not much of a surprise it was only five past twelve with a few seconds to spare before it turned to twelve’o six. Zackery was moving about through the many tinier children’s Isles mumbling and whispering to what appeared to be himself, since not many could see or many could know of the little rabbit helping him run this show. He was Zackery Nobsworth, the head librarian of the New York Public Library, and nearly one of the only ones ever seen about working the many isles and columns of books anyways. He was a hard working with a tightly nit subdual that he hated to move about and change. Everything was precise, everything needed to not change.

Today was much the same, as any day in fact, he worked his subdual and everything was going by without any diddling daddling or unclean splatters of messy fingers and sticky mistakes. He was very happy whispering and working with his furry little friend known as Azule, the white rabbit from his favorite book Alice in Wonderland and Alice through the looking glass. There was nothing different about him, just that to normal people he appeared to speak to himself, and hallucinate a lot. Though it was not true, it was truly not true.

As he worked to put away books from A to Z from Z to A and sometimes to E and U, he started to hear some strange noise nearby, when his sights saw upon it was a strange man is strange clothing that puzzled him so, he ran a hand over his bristly beard and watched the pencil tip and tap the counter with utter surprise and dislike. He frowned a little, then a lot and sighed a soft little sigh and went on with his lot, his work that is it was truly a lot.

As time slowly went by and five to six and six turned to seven then on to Eight he uttered a few works before a crickle and crash and crackling perused to interrupt his Eight. It was truly near time, nearly time to go on, to go on and persue the next part of his work the next part of the isle and continue to stock and re-log books and missing pieces of literature he did not know where yet late. But this crash, this thing, truly did disturb him and made him have to stop, a thing he quiet hated when it was not time for such things.

He moved down the isle, looking back at the rabbit behind, the Azule looked as puzzled as he and then they both walked out to see what was a matter, to see some glass, but not know what had clattered. He continued quiet confused and then saw the stranger playing around with some crafts but he knew not what he was making. So he continued forward, stepping over the glass and went over to tap on the strange mans back.

“What be it you are doing? Interrupting the time, this is not a time for play or loudness, can you please tell me what clattered?” He ask in quiet an annoyed voice, frowning with the same and took a step back, to continue to pursue the man and look over him. Wondering if this man was just as insane, but who was he to say? The strange looks, strange things he had said, he backed off just a bit, to await the parade.