milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Javert is in his normal back corner of the bar. It was pouring rain when he finished in the forge for the day, so he came here instead of going out into the woods. He is surrounded by paper, and the odd ruler, and he is drawing something with precision on one sheet - only to finish it, shake his head and toss it away, before taking a new piece and starting again.

This looks like it has been going on for some time, and may continue the rest of the day. And possibly night. A distraction before his hand falls off would perhaps be welcome.

[OOC: Open UNTIL THE END OF TIME. Or next Wednesday. Whichever comes first. <3

ETA: YOU FABULOUS PEOPLE. *flings love at* I must crash, but it's been a blast. Am around all day tomorrow to continue. <3]

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'Do you meet lots of people intending to build churches?'

Perhaps it is in fashion in these times. He can only guess. And now he is throwing a rather nervous look at the door, in case he should be discovered here.

'Is there no one else in the house, monsieur? It will seem strange if I am here, no?'

Casually stepping between worlds is not something he is comfortable with. It is not natural.

"Anybody interested in history, art, or architecture can use that book," Dr. Lecter says. "Here, have this as well."

It is a rather larger book of construction drawings for baroque churches that comes flying towards Javert.

"Do take a look at that book case, there are some good primers on architectural perspecitve drawings that you might find useful," he adds, turning back towards the ladder and starting to get down.

Edited 2014-01-24 20:44 (UTC)

Larger, heavier. He has to rearrange the stack he is amassing in his arms.

'Enough, monsieur, please. I will have no time to choose a design if I have to read all these.'

He does glance at the bookcase. He is not sure what a 'primer' is, but it cannot hurt.

'I was not planning to make blueprints. Just enough to make sure it will not fall down, and that it is serviceable to look at.'

Edited 2014-01-24 20:47 (UTC)

Dr. Lecter is coming down again. "Most of the pages contain prints and drawings, and you don't have to read them, just reference them when you have questions. You should study the Macaulay closely and then just look through the others. Drawing primers, too."

'What is a primer?'

He had been mostly planning to dig a trench, build four walls and put a roof on. Add a chimney for a fire in the winter, and that would do. He does not expect anyone else to see it unless they happen by - but the spot is fairly remote, so he doubts that would happen too often. Now he is imagining stained glass and marble floors, and the task seems rather larger than he can comfortably manage alone.

"Something that lists the basics of a skill, for reference, if you are wondering how to best do something," Dr. Lecter says, crossing the floor towards the desk. "In this case, architectural drawings. Here."

He pulls a book from the shelf and hands it to Javert.

"That should be enough. Let us go back."

He follows with no little relief.

'Why do you have all these?'

Javert hates books. He hates reading.

He supposes he will not mind looking at pictures.

Dr. Lecter walks back into the bar, waiting by the door to close it after Javert has come through, as the man is laden with books.

The man has probably read them all, too. Ah well. Some people have the leisure to do it. Or the desire. He understands neither. Still, he is careful when he puts them down on his papers, as they have been lent as a favour.

'I will not keep them long. My thanks, monsieur.'

"May I have a look at the drawings you have not discarded?" Dr. Lecter asks.

'If you desire.'

There is a small stack of them to his right. Most are sketches, with only five or six finished with any detail. They show the church from the outside, from all angles of the inside, a close-up of the roof and the ceiling structure. They are not architecturally sound, but that was not the point of them. The point was to decide on something he liked, and thought he could manage to build. He will work out the schematics next.

A couple of the sketches show ambition - stained glass windows and a column or two - and the detailed ones include candlesticks, and ornamentation in the stonework. He looks a little abashed when he notices he did that.

'They are just ideas,' he mutters, looking down.

'Nothing more.'

Edited 2014-01-24 21:43 (UTC)

"They are some very good ideas," Dr. Lecter says. "For the details and the structural basics, you have books now. I like these candlesticks; they are nice and detailed. Late 18th century, I'd think? And the windows -- I have some books about stained glass windows, and the processes used to make them. Just tell me when you need to know about them, and I'll get them for you."

His eyebrows raise.

'Is it possible for one man to make a stained glass window?'

Because he had assumed not - but at the same time, a church does need one.

And he will not answer the vague query about the candlesticks. It occurs to him that he is not the exert on those, and it makes his lip curl.

"I am sure you can make the leaded panes and then perhaps get help to put them into the tracery of the windows, unless you make that very detailed, in which case you might be able to do it alone," Dr. Lecter says.

He is not sure what any of that means. He nods anyway, and makes a note on his list. He supposes he needs to make a decision on them before he builds the walls anyway, but it can wait until after the foundations have been set.

'I thank you for your help, monsieur. I will see. The bricks must come first.'

"Yes," Dr. Lecter says. "I take it you know how to make them?"

'Not at all, beyond sand and water. But I can learn. I may not read as well as every man, but I have been told their are books on everything here. And I must make kilns, apparently.'

Already he is daunted by the size of this task, but not once does he consider turning away. He will build what he has to, he will work every minute. He will free himself, by his own hands. It does not matter how long it takes, or what he has to do.

"Clay," Dr. Lecter says. "I should find you some books about the history of brick-making from the library upstairs; I don't have any at home."

'I can do it,' he says at once.

'There is no need to do things for me. I can do them.'

He may not like books, but he can read. Indeed, he suffers with it. Now there is a reason to put his labours to work, and he will not eschew it for the sake of laziness.

"You know the library upstairs?" Dr. Lecter says. "As long as you're not worried about it being bigger on the inside, and can deal with the fact that it's completely nonlinear, you'll be good."

He sits down, and scowls.

'I will not be defeated by shelves full of books,' he says, with some disgust.

'If all else fails, I will simply ask the bar to provide what I need. It has forced books on me before; it can provide something useful for once.'

"It can do that," Dr. Lecter says. "And you might want to keep the brick book anyway, to make annotations and put dog-ears on the important pages, and so on. Just as you might want to do with 'Cathedral'."

'That would be defacing it, monsieur.'

Not that he usually respects them this way, but these do not belong to him. He tears one of his discarded pictures into strips instead, and fits them inside one dust jacket.

'Markers will do. I will not return them to you in any less a state than I received them, I can assure you.'

"You don't have to give back 'Cathedral'," Dr. Lecter says. "As I said, I have some spare used copies to give away."

'Yes, you said. Nevertheless, we will see.'

He picks the first off the pile, and begins leafing through it.

'I do not mean to start a collection. When this is done, I will have no need for any of these.'