(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

As with most nights, Autor's working late in the library. He reverently opens the cover of a crumbling book and traces his fingers down the vellum. Using a ratio of ink in a seven-to-three ratio of blue to black and a quill with the feather of a white swan who has been in the sea, he lifts the handwritten words to a parchment of his own.

Approach quietly.

Comments

[katyafeline]

Katya approaches silently, through the shadows of the Gloom, and watches him work.

And then dips a finger into the ink, steals a piece of parchment, and doodles idly.

[herr_bookman]

"Oh," he says quietly, pulling a double take at her sudden appearance. "Hey, I was working with that."

[katyafeline]

"And I am wasting time with it." She replies cheerfully, making doodle swirls.

[herr_bookman]

"My time or yours?" he says dryly. "Oh, wait, it's both, given that I mix the ink myself. This is Milliways. How can you possibly be bored here?"

[katyafeline]

"Did I say anything about bored?" Katya asks, adding delicate details to her pattern.

[herr_bookman]

"You said that you're wasting time," Autor says softly, ruffled. "Doesn't that usually imply boredom?"

[katyafeline]

"Perhaps, if you are unimaginative." She huffs, stealing more ink.

[herr_bookman]

Autor frowns at her, and caps the ink bottle. "Don't get ink on the table," he grouses. "Honestly. Time-wasting."

And now he's stuck with a quill that will only last him a bit longer before he has to uncap the bottle again. Hm. I may not have thought that one through.

[katyafeline]

"Honestly. It is better than other things I could be doing." Like hexing the Watch here - that sounds like fun at the moment.

[herr_bookman]

"And worse than some others?" he says. "I can't imagine you rarely do things without reason"--and here he glances over her doodles--"so what's the story behind this?"

[katyafeline]

"You wish for me to tell you a story?" She asks, archly.

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks at her, and chooses to ignore his sarcasm detector. "Only if you want to. I collect them."

[katyafeline]

"Do you now? Perhaps you will know the meaning of this." She smiles, leaning back in her chair. "Once, in a village you have not been to, the girls would gather to celebrate the feast day of Saint Andrew the first-called - they would bake, and brew, and at night be merry. Such gatherings may last a week or so. Amongst these girls was one you would know as Mary, a sweet and lovely girl, the like of such had not been seen in those parts for many years. And on one of these nights, a group of lads from the village did come, and one amongst them was very comely and well to do. It was a treat to look upon him! Many of the girls were taken with him, Mary amongst them - and he appeared to be taken with her as well."

[the_cupbearer]

The only announcement to Ganymede's proximity is a soft jingle of little bells as he sits near Autor with a quiet smile.

"You're up late," he remarks.

[herr_bookman]

Bells? The Fool? Oh, wait, no.

"Always am," Autor says, turning to face the man. "Hello, Ganymede. How do you fare?"

[the_cupbearer]

In this case, the bells are simply on a bracelet with jangles every time Ganymede moves his wrist. Luckily, it's not on his writing hand.

"You should sleep more regularly," he says quietly. Though any discoloration is easily and well covered by cosmetic, it's clear there's a bit of swelling along his cheekbone. The split lip he can do nothing about, but he can claim dry air contributed. It's not entirely a lie. "I fare as well as ever. And you?"

[herr_bookman]

"I probably should," Autor admits, brow furrowing as his gaze traces along Ganymede's cheek and lip. "Quite well, thank you."

He makes a sweeping gesture towards the book. "I found something which might interest you--or possibly make you laugh," he says. "One of the oldest copies of the Metamorphoses of Apuleius, preserved by the libraries magicks."

[the_cupbearer]

"Why don't you?" he asks; if he notices the brow furrowing Ganymede doesn't comment.

"The Golden Ass. How apt," he murmurs to himself, dryly and under his breath. "I remember seeing this when it first came out."

[herr_bookman]

"Too much to do," Autor says, offering him a one-shouldered shrug. He decides to let his curiosity about what happened to Ganymede's face go.

"Do you? Do you really?" the writer asks. "Were you in Rome, then?"

[the_cupbearer]

"Even to sleep?" he asks, and nods his head. "At the time, yes, I was."

[herr_bookman]

"There are a finite number of hours in the day with which to get work done," the student says. "Sleep can take up many of them. Besides, I do my best work at this hour."

His tone changes from a dry, dusty academic's, softening his bearing. "Ooh. You once said that Rome was one of your favorite places to live. Why is that?"

[the_cupbearer]

"I liked the society," he says. "It was new, and they were innovative in many ways. It was a good place to live."

[herr_bookman]

Autor nods rapidly. "And now they say there's nothing new under the sun; it was all in Rome. Where did you go after that?"

[the_cupbearer]

"After Rome I went to Alexandria. Egypt," he says. "Not for long, but I didn't dislike it. The desert was lovely, and the place where it meets the sea is like something out of a fantasy."

[herr_bookman]

"I've never seen the ocean," Autor says enviously, "or a desert. When you first found you were immortal and free to travel as you pleased, what were your thoughts? And what are your thoughts on the subject now?"