D.E.M.O.N.S: Getting Summoned Weekly isn't so Bad

As Kat was led through the facility, she was surprised at the sheer variety of woodwork on display. There seemed to be nothing that Chekov couldn’t make out of wood, and even what he did choose to make had variation within the category.

For example, the first clock that she saw near the entrance was a more standard grandfather clock with rounded bezzles and a smooth appearance. It was only when she looked closer did she notice that there were many hidden details faintly carved into the clock. Most of these seemed to be single sentence stories with a small picture to accompany them.

On the other side of the coin, the second clock she found was anything but ordinary. It was less a clock and more a wall. The main centrepiece was of course the massive hands and clock face, but it did not lack for further details across any part of it. Each number appeared to be an individualised person in some sort of pose, oftentimes with an object to help complete the shape.

For example, the three was a carving of a man and his dog, each making up half of the shape, and they were clearly wrapped around a large pile of pillows that sunk into the clock face. Some others, like the seven, just featured a person by themselves. It consisted of a young but grizzled looking man with a large pompadour leaning at the right angle to make himself into a seven.

Five was a young lady sitting in a wheelchair, and ten looked like a young boy playing with a soccer ball. Kat almost wanted to stop in place to further examine the clock, but Chekov marched onwards as if he hadn’t just past one of the greatest woodworking marvels she’d ever seen.

Even still, that didn’t prepare her for when Chekov turned the corner to reveal the desk he had been working on for Lily. Just before it came into view, Chekov said ”I was going to show you the little one’s first, but glasses’ is much closer so… well here it is”

Chekov took a few more steps forward before stepping back to reveal his creation. To call it a desk would be underselling it. It was a clearly a piece of art. The first thing that stood out to Kat was the supporting structure on the sides. They were two thick pillars of wood on either side to support the desk’s surface.

Each pillar looked to be a stack of books, all intricately carved, and were it not for the uniformity of the colour on them, you’d never think them anything other than that. Each book had its own title carved into the side. They were written in some strange set of runes, and the fact that Kat’s translation power didn’t turn them into anything originally made her think they weren’t meant to be read.

That was until she focused on one title in particular and felt the meaning of the word jump into her mind. The ’book’ in question was titled ’There is Only Needlework’ a strange name for a book indeed, but Kat was so shocked that the ’lettering’ actually had meaning that she simply dismissed it out of hand.

There were further details on each of the books, little chips around the edges as if they had been faded by age. Some staining of the wood in small splotches here and there as if something had been spilt on them… but it was when Kat took a chance to look over the side of the structure that she lost what little breath remained in her lungs.

Chekov had gone through and cut the smallest, faintest series of lines along each book clearly marking where each ’page’ would be. Kat abused her superior eyesight to see that each and every one of them was the same thickness. There was only a few exceptions that she could see looking over the construction.

In one book that was labelled ’The New Zodiac’ there was a bend in the pages, as if something had been trapped in between them… and this radiated out to all the other pages in the book making the lines bend realistically around the obstruction. In others, there were clear ’tears’ in the pages that also seemed to affect how the books sat.

And that was another thing Kat was starting to notice. Each book was a different size, and as she looked further to the side of the pillars, she realised it wasn’t just the one book all the way through. The woodworking made it appear as if somebody had shoved a bunch of books together to hold up the table, each a different size and shape, contained more or less pages, and only by some miracle did they all manage to fit together like jigsaw puzzles.

Moving up from the base of the structure, Kat looked at the top at the desk. It featured two large book cases that stood taller than Kat was, and almost as tall as her wingspan was wide. Before examining that though, Kat’s eyes were drawn to the tabletop.

It consisted of a number of carvings that played out a scene on it. Kat couldn’t help but take flight slightly to see the whole thing, completely forgetting Chekov’s presence as she did so. Before she could examine the carvings properly, she heard a light cough from behind her.

Whipping her head back around, Kat saw a rather non-plussed Chekov, who merely had a slightly raised eyebrow. A sighing Lily, Vivian with her face in her hands, and Sylvie reaching out towards Kat as if to request she be lifted alongside her.

*Oh… Oh woops.* ”Um…” Kat tried but didn’t know what to say.

”Is ok girl. I know when not to speak of things. Granted, this is stranger than most da? Still, I say nothing” said Chekov before Kat could figure out something intelligent to say. Blushing in embarrassment, Kat returned to the ground just long enough to pick up Sylvie before flying herself to the side and looking down that the tabletop carvings to distract herself.

What Kat had wanted to take a look at was the mural that seemed to make up the tabletop. She had been at a bad angle before and was unable to see it in its entirety, now though, it was much clearer and more complex than she had imagined.

 It was clear that the mural featured a library, lined with shelves of books that yet again HAD NAMES ON THEM. How Chekov managed to carve something so small she’d never know. These bookshelves lined the sides of the desk and seemed to go onwards forever. Closer to the centre was a number of tables with books scattered across them. Each table seemed to have a small figurine on them, and there was at least twenty all counted up, ten on either side.

In the centre of the tables was a large podium that stood on a slightly raised section. Podium seemed to be covered in ancient parchment, that once again HAD REAL WORDS on them. It was clearly a completely different language to the rest of the books but there was just so much text squeezed into the tiny space. Kat didn’t even try to read more than a bit of it. In the centre of the podium though, the main affair, was something else… or perhaps someone else.

Standing in the centre, was a familiar figure, if a bit older. It was clearly Lily, with her glasses on and a nice form fitting suit. She was gazing out over the ’library’ hands on her hips with a satisfied smile on her face.

Which was cool, but Kat found herself more drawn to the other figures in the picture. At the table closest to the centre sat an individual with wings and a kimono, long flowing red hair, and a set of horns at the front of her head. She even had a tail curled around her arm as she flipped through a book. Kat would of course, recognise herself.

Another table, slightly further back but on the same side, contained a set of two people. One sitting on the others lap, and Kat recognised them to be Vivian and Sylvie, who seemed to be playing a board game of sorts, but it didn’t stop there.

On the opposite side of the podium, were two people slumped against each other in one of the chairs, a book hugged against each of their chests. Kat could just barely make out their faces, and almost didn’t recognise them with the peaceful expression they had on, but it was actually Lily’s parents.

And, at the back, standing proudly in a maid uniform, holding a large feather duster and cleaning a few tables with her back turned slightly away from the viewer was Callisto, making sure the whole place was neat and tidy.

That of course begged the question. *How does Chekov know what those last three people look like?*