Quill And Parchment Books- Working Hideaway

Posted Sept. 29, 2022, 9:15 a.m. by Captain Eela Dasca (Lt. Governor) (Lindsay B)

Posted by Karilan Massat (Owner, Quill and Parchment Books) in Quill And Parchment Books- Working Hideaway

Posted by Captain Eela Dasca (Lt. Governor) in Quill And Parchment Books- Working Hideaway

Posted by Karilan Massat (Owner, Quill and Parchment Books) in Quill And Parchment Books- Working Hideaway
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻


She nodded as she continued to browse the titles. “My father was definitely not a Luddite, but he focused on whole being wellness. That included the way spirituality and connection played a role in physical and mental well being.” She flashed a smile at Massat. “He was about more than just plant potions.”

“Do you have any books here that you personally think are important?” she asked. Acquiring books for sale and sharing did not mean that Karilan themself didn’t have any personal favourites and she was just plain curious.

~Eela Dasca, Lt. Gov

Massat smiled and said “I believe all books are important, Madame. But for many different reasons. For instance…” and he led her to one of the pedastle cases. “…this.” The book in the case was very old. It was open, and a picture depicted a monstrously large tentacled creature with its appendages wrapped around some kind of submersible craft that was floating on the surface of the water. Figures, human males from the look of them, seemed to be fighting the creature with primitive tools and weapons. Knives, axes, spears… one figure was in the motion of throwing a wicked looking barbed harpoon.

Eela leaned in, peering at the illustration with fascination.

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea.” Masaat said, his eyes resting in the book like a long-awaited friend. “Human author Jules Verne. It was published in, according to the Old Earth calendar, in 1870. Some five hundred plus years ago. This is the oldest surviving edition, published in 1910 of that world’s calendar. I believe it to be very important because it helped humanity accomplish what it has. But…” and he led her to specific shelf on one of the bookcases. He pointed at a small, black book. On the spine was an odd symbol of some kind with the words Mein Kampf written below it. “This book is also important for that very same species. Because this book was written by a lunatic and madman… who also happened to command a great army and an entire country. That man, the author, murdered millions… because of bigotry and hate. He started a war so massive in scale it was a World War. So this is also important to show how a species must learn to overcome evil.”


“Balance and perspective,” she said softly, inhaling slowly. When her gaze returned to Karilan, it was pensive. “No matter how often we’ve learned lessons from the past, or think we have, sometimes we have to go through it again. And again. I served as a first officer during the Battle of Sector 001 and not all that long after the Dominon War broke out.” She didn’t continue and simply moved about the shelves.

Dasca stopped once more in front of the science section, skimming the titles, looking for a familiar spine. It wasn’t that she needed the book for her own collection. She had inherited original editions of every one by that author (naturally), and then of course her mother’s own books had always been in her collection. But this particular author had bene not only prolific but exceptionally long-lived.

And then she found one, breaking into a smile. It would have been strange not to find one, as old as this floor’s collection was. And it was admittedly one of the harder to find ones, given the woman had started publishing books on Botany and Ecology well before she had even finished her Doctorates in the subjects. This one though, was her first non-academic book titled The Galactic Floral Shop-how similar plants evolve across space by the late Doctor Quiri Suusa, published in 2285. Eela reached out a finger as if she might tap the glass but was careful not to. “This is a really good one. Make sure someone special acquires it, and not some collector only interested in the investment. As a favour to me?” Dasca didn’t use the word favour lightly either, especially on this colony where political favours could mean something specific to some people. This was a personal favour, yes, but meant as more of a plea than anything else. The thought of some rich person with a pile of rare books on a shelf for only the monetary value they held broke her heart.

~Eela Dasca, Lt. Gov.

Massat smiled and said “A book that inspires such emotion is something to be cared for and put 8n a place where such matters are tended to.” He reached up and put his hand on the sensor at the far left end of the shelf and the glass slid up. He pulled a pair of white gloves from a holder just behind the sensor and slipped them on. He then very gently reached up and took the book down. “Follow me.” he said and turned and began walking as the glass shelf closed itself.

It was the second time someone had described her as exuding strong emotions. But both times there was a sense that it was actually a good thing, rather than a flaw of hers now. Captain Dasca had been effusive off-duty if she wanted to be but on-duty, she had been calm, collected, calculating. Never cold though. That word had never once been used to describe her. As she followed the shop owner, Eela couldn’t help but wonder if this new outward passion could really be something she could channel. She had always been a passionate woman, but it had been doled out knowingly, intentionally. Maybe it was more her now to just exude her feelings a little. Maybe there was less room for stoicism. But as a politician, that was a dangerous game to play, wasn’t it? If you have emotions to show, they can be exploited. She inwardly sighed at the fact that everything she did now seemed to require multiple degrees of analysis. It was a little exhausting.

He led her to a nook with a back-lit table and two chairs. He laid the book down gently and pulled another pair of gloves out from under the table and handed them to Eela. “Open the cover and look on the title page.”

“Oh,” she murmured as she sat down and slipped on the gloves. It had been awhile since she had handled any of these books and so as she opened the book with all the delicate reverence it deserved, Dasca was pensive.

On the title page, words were scrawled across the top left of the page. “For every flower that fades and falls, countless others have yet to bloom.” It was signed: Quiri Suusa.

Masaat, Proprietor

She beamed. “She always had the most beautiful script,” Eela said as a gloved fingers traced the words. “I wonder at the story this particular book has had. Obviously the original owner was known to Quiri. She didn’t write poetically like that for strangers.” Eela looked up at Karilan and pressed her hand to her chest for a moment. “Dr. Suusa was my paternal grandmother. She passed away seven years ago, She had a remarkable life and lived to be one-hundred and thirty one! And remained bright and sharp as she ever was, even though she had a hard time with speech. But she could still write. In fact she was working on a new book the last two years of her life. She never quite got around to finishing it though.”

Her gaze dipped to the all-too familiar sweep of Quiri’s writing. “I have all her books in my collection. They’ve been in safe storage on Earth but I’m having personal effects sent over. Still, I like the idea that her words found Oed before me.”

~Eela Dasca, Lt. Gov.

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