Like birds flushed to the sky by a hunting horn, whispers swelled as Raven entered Luna’s most prestigious University by the main walk. The muffled discontent followed her sharp footsteps up through its halls.
While some students watched her go with hungry reverence, she preferred those who met her eyes with firm jaws, whose hands slid to hide the spines of the books they carried. Violent books on violent empires, collected essays on breaking gilt cages. They objected to her presence in their halls. Raven did not remind them who’d designed the sweeping staircases, towers, and stained glass displays centuries ago, who eagerly funded their thesis fieldwork on dissent, revolution, and the undersides of history. Instead, Raven maintained the imperious tilt to her chin as she climbed the staircase up to her office. Nothing squashed rebellion more swiftly than official sanction.
Raven was pleased to see no broken glass when she entered her office. It’d been a week since anyone had managed to lob a brick through her window, impressive in itself considering her office was located on the top-most floor of the library.
As much as Raven appreciated student engagement with the current political discourse, the rain from the ruined window had destroyed several borrowed and irreplaceable ancient texts, then open on her desk. Raven had found the pulpy mess a day too late. Their original owner, the University’s true founder and Raven’s master, had responded with predictable fury. Raven winced at the memory as it pulsed anew in her mind.
Rolled within the raging mental onslaught came his demand, do something about the brewing disrespect at the University. Raven was to find the culprits and stamp out any insurrection before more priceless knowledge was lost. Someone was spreading dissent in Luna.
Raven sighed and went to her personal bookshelf, kept in the corner and locked away from the University’s library books and her master’s borrowed texts. This collection was hers. Most were violent books on violent empires, collected essays on breaking gilt cages. She was proud of them, written under different names she’d tried on over the centuries, hoping one replace the one stolen. But among those bold and popular texts, were soft first editions of hidden histories. Understudied and in Raven’s delicate spidery hand, they spoke of bearing tyranny, surviving servitude, and keeping hopelessness at bay with small resistances.
I am obsessed with the song Death of Communication by Company of Thieves, so I challenged myself and Raw Rambles to write something to it. Check out what she did here.