(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

Autor's sitting on the hearth of the fireplace today, trimming barbs off of long, white feathers. He's wearing his gray sweater again, and he's rolled the sleeves back over his wrists to work. His foot is propped up on a chair and wrapped in an Ace bandage; clearly he's not moving much today.

After eying the feathers, he shoves the pointed ends into a metal bucket of fine sand, and adjusts the temperature of the hotplate it rests on to 140 degrees.

Then he sets his watch and waits.

Comments

[merryeccentricities]

Can Joly ignore this happening? He thinks about it for no seconds, because no, he can't. He takes great care to be seen walking up, because startling people with hot things is a Bad Idea.

" Hello, excuse me- You seem very sure of what you're doing, but I've never seen it before. May I ask what this is all for?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor doesn't jump, and frankly he's very proud of himself for not doing so. Still, the credit must be given to Joly for walking in a kind manner.

"Oh, hello," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. He gestures to the sand. "I'm tempering feather nubs to make quills out of them. These will have carved nibs rather than metal ones, though I can make those, too."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly bows a little. "Then you are a craftsman?" He's not being patronizing; he's quite used to people Autor's age working, even in skilled crafts.

[herr_bookman]

Autor inclines his head. This person is quite polite, he thinks, impressed.

"No, not at all, I'm just very particular about my writing implements," the boy explains. "I'm a writer. And what of your profession?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly nods. The pen-maker does seem a little young for a writer, but not too terribly so. Certainly age doesn't guarantee mastery. "I'm a doctor- well, almost." He laughs a little and holds up his thumb and forefinger in this close gesture. "My studies were interrupted before I could really claim the title. And I'm far behind what is apparently the standard here, at any rate. But I intend to start making up lost time soon!" He stops himself before he can start talking about the library and the infirmary, and bows again, more properly. "Joly, late of Paris, apparently a resident here now. May I join you?"

[herr_bookman]

And with that, Autor knows exactly who he is. He nods, mirroring Joly's enthusiasm. "Of course, Joly," the boy says, indicating an empty spot on the hearth. "I am Autor. I'd return your bow, but I'd rather not get up--please forgive me." He indicates the sprain by tipping his head.

"I'm sorry your studies were interrupted; that has to be terribly frustrating," he says. "But you can learn all manner of things here. No doubt you've explored the infirmary?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly settles in, though he raises an eyebrow - there's something about that of course. "You've spoken with some of my friends, then?" Good; he was beginning to think most of the others never talked to anyone.

"The infirmary! Yes, I had a visit there after that very bright dance. I'm almost embarassed to have visited it out of necessity, like--" he interrupts himself noticeably; he was heading right into a metaphor about courtship, and Autor is a little young for that. Surely. "Well, I should have thought to go on my own before this, if only for my friend's sake. I must admit I'd rather overlooked that we can still be hurt. At any rate-- well worth a sprain, to finally see that room. "

[onceaviking]

Eric is drifting around the Bar. Looking for distractions.
He remembers the boy and his inquisitiveness.

And so he stops and leans against a wall, folding his arms, crossing his ankles.
Looking at him.

[herr_bookman]

Autor watches him back, feeling very much like prey; he can't move very well with this ankle. Still.

Eventually, he bends his head. "What can I do for you?"

Oh, Rae is going to kill him.

[OOC: Shoot, I'm just about to go to bed! I can manage a couple of tags at least. ETA: Nope, I'm fading too fast. Sorry, catch you tomorrow!]

[onceaviking]

"I am just wondering why you bother," Eric replies.

He's dressed in a black t shirt and tight black jeans. It makes him look paler. Taller.



{ooc: I'm at work :) - slows are always okay with me though}

[herr_bookman]

"Why I bother with what?" Autor asks. He straightens his shoulders, trying to project a confidence that he clearly doesn't feel.

[onceaviking]

"That."
Eric nods at his set-up.

"Why don't you just get a biro?"

[herr_bookman]

"What's a biro?" Autor says, furrowing his brow.

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie is wheeling through half a bicycle when she catches sight of Autor's foot.

"What happened to your foot?" she asks, depositing the half bike down to come and inspect the bandage.

[herr_bookman]

"Oh, that," Autor says, wiggling his toes in his sock. And now he considers his words very carefully. He doesn't want to upset her, but he doesn't want to lie to her either. "I crashed into someone at the roller disco and sprained it. It was my fault entirely. How are you, Bonnie?"

[is_the_motion]

"Oh no! And you were doin' so well. Have you had it looked at?"

[herr_bookman]

He nods, a little embarrassed to tell her. "Guppy prescribed ice and relatively little movement. Don't worry, though, it should heal by December."

[is_the_motion]

"You cain't sit still until December, cain't you get a magic healer to fix it?"

[herr_bookman]

And she's right. He can't sit still that long. The realization makes him antsy, but he tries to remain still. "I... If I run into one, I certainly won't turn down whatever healing they might provide. In the meantime I can get around all right. I can still fly."

[electro_kinetic]

Noriko is watching this apparently laborious process from her seat where she's toying with her earrings, twisting the black crystal stud in its hole.

"Pens just won't cut it for you, hm?" she asks, hat tipped back on her head as she studies him. "So who gave you the bum leg?"

[herr_bookman]

"No, I'm quite particular about my writing implements," Autor says, adjusting his glasses as he looks up. He's not quite sure where he stands with Miss Ashida, but he decides to try and be as civil as possible. For now.

"And I did," the boy admits, a little embarrassed to be telling her. "I crashed into someone else at the roller disco and we, er, sort of smashed into a table? We were racing."

[electro_kinetic]

"Do you not know how to stop on skates?" she asks with a laugh. "Or were you on rollerblades?"

Hey, they're her favored skates, they might as well be someone else's. "So you're making quills."

[herr_bookman]

That laugh hurts more than he thought it would. He purses his lips, but otherwise shows no sign of being ruffled. "It... It was my first time skating. I hadn't figured out stopping yet. And no, I was on quads."

He nods at her question. "I normally make ones with metal nibs, bit these are useful to have around. And it's an activity that keeps me from moving, which I've been warned against for some reason."

[electro_kinetic]

"Okay, for future reference, that big rubber stopper on your toes is how you stop. Just tilt up," she says. "Rollerblades are trickier, and involve needing ankle strength."

She considers his ankle. "You're probably fine to walk, I doubt you did more than maybe sprain it on rollerskates. Can you wiggle your toes?" she asks. If he can, odds are he's fine.

[herr_bookman]

The boy's just going to ignore the first bit of advice which assumes he can't rollerskate at all. It's a pretty good assumption, but it still chafes.

Autor dutifully wiggles his toes for her through his sock. "I can walk on it just fine. Well, maybe not just fine--I'm still a bit sore and wobbly--but I can definitely get around." He tilts his head. "Er. How are you? Not sprained, obviously, but still."