He pauses, trying to remember. It has been many years since he had food, yet more years since he gave considerable thought to what he consumed. Perhaps the Estravian pastries? Or were they cakes? He can't remember. He can't even remember the taste. Instead of answering the question, he simply says, "I'll know it when I see it." The shelves are largely filled, as expected. The library typically has many copies of each book with only one on display, rotated in as people checked out books. There was only ever one copy of this particular book. He only had time to write the one and neglected to copy it while he was... extant. If it is lost... He does not have the ability to recreate the volume from memory, nor the ability to re-attempt much of his research. 

Jupiter nods, though she gives the Professor a searching look at his avoidance of specifying the food. There is clearly complex history tied to this missing volume.

"I imagine a unique text like that would be in the restricted archives, if anywhere," she muses. "Special permissions are likely required to access those materials." Her gaze flicks over to Madame Ryoko at the front desk. "Perhaps if we explain the situation, an exception could be made, given the...circumstances."

She looks back to the Professor. "Sorry, actually, did you really lose your knowledge of your second-favorite food?" And she's put her foot in her own mouth.

"Well, if you hadn't had food for twenty years, would you remember your favorites?" He abruptly regrets snapping at her. Her curiosity is to be encouraged. "Apologies. Anyway, the restricted archives should only be for texts prone to great damage if not handled with caution. This runic text isn't nearly as dangerous as that." Though perhaps anyone implementing the Ward of Totality could... "On second thought, perhaps we should ask the Madame."

Jupiter flinches slightly at the Professor's snap, looking down. "You're right, that was thoughtless of me. My apologies."

She takes a steadying breath before meeting his gaze again. "In any case, consulting Madame Ryoko seems wise. This text is clearly important, and if it has been misplaced or misappropriated, she should know."

Jupiter makes her way over to the front desk, the Professor following. "Madame Ryoko, apologies for the interruption. The Professor informed me of a concerning situation regarding a missing text. We were hoping you might be able to provide some insight, given the delicate nature of the matter." She glances to the Professor, deferring to him to explain further.

He did not particularly want to ask the Madame about this topic. She of all people would know what the book meant. "A Treatise On The Runic Arts," he says slowly. He can almost taste the vulnerability in the air, and the Madame, like any other predator, knows well how to use vulnerability. "I thought that perhaps since it was not listed in the index, it might be in the restricted archives, though of course it is not nearly so dangerous as that." 

Madame Ryoko looks at him with a bright smile full of glittering teeth. "Why, of course it is in the restricted archives! A ritual within its pages caused the death of three University affiliates and the dissolution of another. Imagine what it could do in the hands of a student!" She rustles her wings as her head dips towards him. "After all, a qualified individual could not avoid destruction." 

Jupiter glances between the Professor and Madame Ryoko, sensing the sudden tension in the air. There is history here she does not fully grasp. Still, the librarian's words give her pause. Death and dissolution are no small matters.

"I appreciate you taking steps to restrict such dangerous knowledge," Jupiter says carefully. "Especially with impressionable students about." She looks to the Professor. "Perhaps the text could be reviewed under supervision, for academic clarification? I'm certain no harm was intended by your colleague's request."

She keeps her tone neutral, but her pale gaze conveys a silent plea. Tread carefully. Some books are best left closed. She knows the Professor has his reasons, but worries what darker secrets might be stirred up if pursued relentlessly.

Madame Ryoko looks at Jupiter with bright and gleaming eyes. "Do you think that the person who killed three people with this text would merit adequate supervision?" The question, though sharp, is said gently, soft like silk wrapped around glass.

Jupiter meets Madame Ryoko's piercing gaze, heart sinking. So the Professor was directly involved in this tragedy. She chooses her next words with care. "You make a fair point. Some knowledge is too dangerous to be meddled with, even under the strictest supervision." She turns to the Professor, pale eyes filled with sympathy. "I apologize for my ignorance in this matter. I can see now why you advised secrecy."

Looking between them both, she adds softly, "The text clearly holds painful history for you both. I do not wish to reopen old wounds needlessly." Unless.

The Professor grimaced. "The Madame is dramatizing old history. She is likely still upset about the wing of the Library that was destroyed in the incident." He rolls his shoulders back, playing at calm confidence. "She knows well that the instigator of the incident was legally declared deceased, and that any remnant of that individual is no longer capable of using the text in such a manner." And what a heartbreak it is to no longer be able to invoke runes, his field of choice, the arc of his thauma. That is the worst part of his state of existence. Not the absence or the loss of magical storage or the inability to hold things, but knowing that the greatest moment of his research was also the end of it. He couldn't care less about the Madame's lost texts. She, by contrast, could not care more.

Jupiter's heart aches for the Professor as the full impact of his loss becomes clear. His beloved field of magic, stolen from him along with life itself. She longs to offer comfort, but knows he would reject open pity, especially with Madame Ryoko looking on.

"I see," Jupiter says softly, turning her gaze between them once more. "A tragic happenstance indeed. My condolences for all you have lost." Her eyes linger on the Professor, filled with quiet empathy. She knows that drive, that restless seeking after impossible knowledge. Were it her research so devastatingly cut short, she would be devastated.

Drawing herself up, she inclines her head respectfully to Madame Ryoko. "Thank you for enlightening me on this sensitive history. I shall not bring it up again." Looking to the Professor, she asks gently, "Shall we go? I'm sure you have much to attend to." An opportunity to withdraw gracefully, without conceding defeat.

The Professor contemplates for a moment. Madame Ryoko will not concede the volume to his hands, and the restricted archives are warded heavily. However, the particulars of his situation provide many opportunities. He will have to be swift. "Yes. Let us depart." He walks away, neglecting to make sound with his footsteps in his haste.

Jupiter follows the Professor out of the library, matching his swift strides. Once they are out of earshot, she moves to hover her hand over his arm gently. "Professor, wait." Her eyes search his face, brow furrowed with concern. "That was quite the revelation back there. Are you alright?" She knows it's a foolish question - of course he isn't, with the specter of his greatest tragedy dragged to light.

He takes a breath, holds it, then exhales. A pantomime ritual, considering that he doesn't need to breathe anymore. "It has been many years since the incident in question. I have made my peace with it." This is a blatant lie, and he knows even as the words are said that it's obvious. The edges of his hands are fuzzy and blurred, even as he clenches them into fists.

She glances around to ensure no one is in earshot before leaning in close. "I know that look. You haven't given up on getting that text, have you?" She searches his face, pale eyes filled with gentle concern. "I won't try to dissuade you. But please, be careful. Some knowledge has a heavy cost." It probably shows on her face that she is, so, very, curious.

"It's my book," he snaps, hands abruptly coming back into focus. "I wrote it, I know everything in its pages, and it has no safer place than with me. The incident will never happen again." He looks down and takes another false breath. "I could get it right." The last part is muttered, soft, as though not meant to be said. 

Jupiter draws back slightly at the intensity of the Professor's words, but her gaze remains steady. "I believe you," she says softly. "If anyone can handle that knowledge safely, it's you."

She hesitates, then adds in an undertone, "And if you think you could get it right this time... I trust your judgment." Her pale eyes flicker with something unreadable.

His hands twitch. He could get it right, if he could try again. But he can't. He lacks current. He lacks a well of magic to draw from. Once the runes were invoked, perhaps. He could manipulate the flux and pulse of activated runes. But no one would do it for him. Not after the incident. "Your trust is appreciated, though likely unwarranted." He needs that book. For the theory, if nothing else. There is so much that he has forgotten. So much of himself that he lost before managing to stabilize this lingering form. 

Jupiter takes a step closer, pale eyes searching the Professor's face. "You're right. Getting your hands on that text won't change the past. And attempting its workings again would be...inadvisable, given your current state." She sighs, raking a hand through her hair. "But I understand the desire to reclaim what you've lost. To prove yourself once more." Her smile is crooked. "Some of us are drawn to impossible tasks like moths to flame, compelled to chase knowledge no matter the cost."

She looks away, expression distant. "If the book truly holds such meaning for you, I will help you retrieve it. But on one condition." Her gaze snaps back to his, sharp and intent. "You must promise me you will not attempt to invoke its magic. Not without proper safeguards in place first. I won't see you risk further harm." Her hands clench at her sides. "Do we have an accord?"

He stares at her. He wants... He needs this book, and he cannot deny that it would be easier with her help. And he can't invoke the runes regardless, so it's a useless promise. But there are no proper safeguards. Not for this. Not for his grand and speculative rituals. "We do," he says, and he truly does not know if he means it.