milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Autor steps through the door today, his clothes remain the same: white pants, oversized gray sweater, and glasses. What changes are the ears. Not his, necessarily--those still remain human--but he sprouts fuzzy, gray, and pointed kitten ears on top of his head with a soft, "Oh!" The tail is also new, and telegraphs his body language as the tip curves upward in agitation.

"Really?" he calls up to the ceiling. "Come on!"

Experimentally, he brushes his fingers against one of his fuzzy new appendages--and tears his hand away, blushing. They point in different directions, moving independently of one another to show his ambivalence with the costume.

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"The library", he says immediately. "It is remarkable."

Autor brightens, easing into a smile. "It is, isn't it? It's the one place in the bar I call home. Have you found many books of magic in there already?"

"Oh yes." Childermass nods. "Some from other worlds, I think, for I had never heard of them."

"Oh, that's fun," Autor says, grinning. His ears perk up, twitching. "I hope you can learn many more spells from them. I suspect Mr. Norrell would have a heart attack at the books available there."

"Mr Norrell will never see them, if I have any say in the matter. I certainly will not be carrying either the books or their names home to him."

"Oh? Why is that?" Autor says, tilting his head. "Do you disapprove of his hoarding knowledge?"

"I disapprove of his letting no one else see it, not even with careful selection. No one at all, save he and I, can enter the library unless we bring them there."

"And no one can borrow books, I assume," Autor says, shaking his head. His ears flatten again, and his tail points down. "You're right, that's pretty awful. For what reasons would he actually let people see his books?"

"No one has been allowed to yet, and many have asked. I can only think, perhaps if he met a gentleman - and it would be a gentleman - he found worthy to learn magic."

"Women aren't likely to be taught by him?" Autor asks, tilting his head. His ears twitch, as does his tail. "That person would have to have some natural talent."

"It would never occur to him to teach a woman." He nods. "That they would, and know a little of how to use it."

"Half the women in the bar would laugh at him, I suspect," Autor says, wrinkling his nose. "Do you think he'll find such a person to teach?"

"I cannot say. My cards have told me a change is coming, and a man will bring it about, so perhaps he will."

"You have cards that tell the future?" Autor says, perking up. His ears swivel forward. "Interesting. Are they part of the Tarot?"

"They are the Cards of Marseilles." He gets them out of a pocket. "Here."

(They are, in fact, copies of the Cards of Marseilles on whatever scraps of paper came to hand when he was drawing them.)

"Oh, wow," Autor says, blinking at them. His ears assume a straight-up orientation. "I like these drawings. Did you draw them yourself?"

"I did", he says matter-of-factly. "I met a man in Whitby who had a set, and he'd have sold me them but I had no money. So I copied them instead, and drew some from memory after his ship sailed."

"That's an impressive talent," Autor says, inclining his head. His tail points straight up, much like his ears. "Are the cards ever wrong?"

"Never. If they seem to make no sense, it's a failing in my understanding. Not in their prediction."

"How long does it take for predictions to come true? Years, sometimes?" Autor says, his ears swiveling about.

Childermass nods. "At times it can be. If the event is truly important."

"I hope the man who precipitates a change doesn't take years to get there," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. His tail wraps around his leg.

"He may", he admits. "But there again, he may not. For all I know of who he is, he may already have arrived."

"Indeed," Autor says, nodding. "Do the cards tell you how big of a change he'll be making?"

"Very big indeed, so far as I can tell. When I ask, I draw the Tower as the answer."