The roots weave on around you, solid and ghostly both. If you're paying attention you'll see them taking on more of a structure -- walls? loose approximations of shelves? tightening up as you go on. They never stop being roots, but after a bit of walking the passage opens out into a huge space, open to the strange sky.

More root-shelves, arranged in neat rows, stuffed with books and scrolls; you're pretty clearly in a library. There are some stacks between the shelves too, and areas that are barred off with a white rope. There's an order to everything -- the shelves and stacks are organized rather than just scattered willy-nilly, some by size or weight, some by colour, some by shape, and some you can't figure out the system for, possibly because not a single book has a title on its spine.

The smell of the battlefield has given way to that of old books, clean paper and ink, and a slight tang of metal.

Near the front, a large section of reading material has exploded out from the shelves. There is a Mithos here; he looks like the Mithos you know in Aather. He also has a sword, but it's sheathed and belted. He's down on one knee, picking the books up steadily. He looks tired.

He looks up.

"Hello, Rabbit."

He blinks up, a little startled, and nods.

He looks up.

"Winter?"

"Please?"

"All right."

He blinks a bit at the draping, but allows it calmly.

"If you please."

He blinks over. "I'd appreciate some."

"Roxas? ...please."

"Please. It goes a lot faster with a friend."