The airship shuddered to a stop outside a tavern, where two people climbed out.
"What's this place? It looks like a dump." Colin said. The Wanderer gasps.
"You do not say that! This place has stood for generations. It was there before I was born and will be there after you die." The Wanderer glared at Colin despite their eyes being covered. "You should respect this fine establishment." The Wanderer rests their hand on the doorknob of the tavern door. "It serves as a great setting."
"Wait..." Colin furrowed his brow. The Wanderer opened the door, opening to a cozy reception room. A bored walrus sat behind the desk, reading a book. The edges are covered in crystalized amber. It is a small room, the walls made of wood and the floor made of a red carpet. In a corner, a potted plant sits, blooming blood flowers. Colin shudders at this.
"How many?" The walrus asks.
"Three. I believe one is already here; A collector?" Colin stared at the blood flowers, curiously disgusted.
"Yes sir, there is. Shall I show you down?"
The Wanderer waited patiently to speak. "No, it's ok. I know the way. Oh, and I'm not sir."
"My apologies."
The Wanderer grabbed Colin, who was trying to pluck a blood flower.
"Who are we meeting?" Colin asked, taking The Wanderer's hand off his shoulder.
"A Collector. Do keep your tongue in check. He can be very..." The Wanderer searched for the right word. "Temperamental. There it is." They walked through the door, into an open room, filled sparsely with people and crammed with tables. A bar stood on the right, many different drinks casting rainbows onto the open bar table. Most of the stools were empty. In the center, a grand stone fireplace squatted, the green flames crackling like demons. The walls were decorated with broken pottery, pictures, plants, and all other kinds of bits and bobs. At a table set for three, a figure sat. The Wanderer walked over and sat down. Colin followed.
"They are here." The Collector spoke to The Wanderer.
"You mean..?" The Wanderer trailed off.
"Yes. Why did you ask to meet me here?" The Collector asked. "For another story? Does he have one?" The Collector pointed his glass at Colin, who felt very out of place.
"No. We're just asking for information."
The Collector leaned back. "Information costs."
"So too does everything," The Wanderer countered.
"Give me a new story, and I shall tell you what I know about whatever you want to ask."
The Wanderer nods. "Give me a minute." They stood up and took Colin back outside with them.
"Wait wait wait. What's going on?" Colin stopped The Wanderer.
"We need a story." The Wanderer moved away, as if that answered the question.
"No, but why?"
"We need a story to get information."
"About what?"
"You, you-" The Wanderer leaned down to whisper into Colin's ear, "-coming back to life."
"I see. But why whisper?"
The Wanderer made their way up to the airship deck. Colin followed.
"There are always ears and eyes. An-" They narrowed their voice. "immortal could serve as a powerful weapon. Now, where can I..." The Wanderer walked downstairs, searching for something.
"What are you looking for?" Colin asked, following.
"My collections." The Wanderer reached a door and pulled out a key. "Hmm. Here, come in but don't touch anything."
Colin walked into a cramped room, filled with boxes and bookshelves. On the bookshelves, books of all kinds were crammed. In the boxes, tucked carefully were many plates and paintings. On the walls, tapestries hung, some fraying, some perfectly preserved. They depicted men covered in burns, owls, computers, and a lonely ghost. On one wall, a tapestry hung of a golden city. Tall spires rose out of a mountain. A figure lords over the city, their arms raised out over it. Behind the figure, a Tree sprouted, covering the entire picture in leaves and branches.
"Hmmm." The Wanderer thought, standing in the middle of the crowded room. They reached into a box of dishes and pulled out a flannel jacket. It is fraying, and one of the sleeves has been entirely replaced. Many parts are missing, instead, patched with odd bits of fabric that don't match. One patch sewed on depicts a star on fire. "Perfect. He'll love this. What'd you think?" The Wanderer holds up the coat. Colin stares at it for a moment.
"It's fine, I guess?"
"Good. Now, out." The Wanderer walked out, as did Colin. He looked at another tapestry of an owl staring at him before the door closed. The Wanderer locked the door.
---++---
At the tavern, The Collector took the jacket. He examined it, then nodded.
"Good. Now tell me, what story does this jacket tell?"
"I found it in a ruined library. It was well-loved by its owner. They must've known how to sew. Perhaps it was a gift from a lover, or an iconic part of them."
"Thank you." The Collector took the jacket and put it into his bag. "Now, what you talked about? There have been several instances. Scene one; A murderer learns to read. Scene two; A warrior forced to leave his own home. Scene three; You and me."
"You and me?" The Wanderer asks.
"You know we don't belong."
"Thank you for your time." The Wanderer says quickly. They stand up and swiftly leave. Colin runs after. He finds The Wanderer leaning against the airship. "I think I know where we have to go."
"Where did you find that jacket?" Colin asked, climbing up onto the airship.
"I told you. A library." The Wanderer smirks as they make their way down to the map room. "An amber library."
"An amber library? What's that?" Colin asked.
"Never mind."
-Tavernfire, PT3
