milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.'

"You might want to build something else when you've finished wth your chapel in the woods," Dr. Lecter says.

'Such as? I think the barmen might object if I start peppering the grounds with random abodes.'

He could build a house, and live away from the noise of this place. That would not be so bad. But it is only an idle thought. This project will be quite enough work.

'When it is done, I should hope I will be able to leave.'

Edited 2014-01-24 23:40 (UTC)

"I am sure the ground is quite large enough for all the random abodes you might want to build," Dr. Lecter says, smiling. "You think building a chapel will fulfill all the conditions for your freedom?"

He does not smile back.

'If it does not, I do not know what else to do.'

A voice has been nagging at him, pointing out that this still does not fulfill the quota of the angel's instructions. But it is a monument to God. He does not know what else to do. And besides, it feels right. It feels as though it fulfils a purpose. His purpose, he hopes.

"I am sure your project will give you all the opportunity you need," Dr. Lecter says. "And if you can't make connections with people, as you thought you were expected to, then God is probably going to be happy with you using your extraordinary skills to build a chapel where all the Christians in Milliways can go and pray."

'They are not extraordinary,' he says at once, quietly horrified by the prospect.

'It is a building. Anyone can put bricks together and paint them - they simply do not, or lack the incentive.'

The man's words remind him that the connections may still be impossible. His fervour regarding his undertaking dims a little because of it. What if it is all for nothing?

'And I did not say it was for everyone.'

"What else is a chapel for, if not for everybody who wants to worship there," Dr. Lecter says. "What did you mean to do with it when it is finished?"