“Here.”

They don’t walk far.

It’s a familiar sight even; Roland’s usual spot where he’s most likely found on the day to day, pouring over texts, one page to the next. Where three types of higgledies once ambushed him, made a mess of papers and things, though it’s now one of his most treasured memories. It’s most certainly not labeled as his place, or his seat, but there’s almost never a time when Roland is occupying another carrel so he confidently points to it with his eyes. He moves across the floor and softly lays down the books that reappear from his arms band, like puzzle pieces fitting snug in place. Sure enough, everything on top of its surface, from folders to pens, belong to Roland.

He meets Tidus’s eye again, one hand on his hip.

“Journals. Ideas. Theories. I may not have returned some books I was still reading back in place, so apologies for that. But they’re all arranged here.”

That’s all he says about it - about this strange trip to the library - before he walks back to the portals. He’s already tinkering with them by the time Tidus catches up behind him.

“Okay, sleeper cabins, sleeper cabins…”

Their next destination, it seemed.