2014.07.08: Forgotten Library
| Forgotten Library | |
|---|---|
| Two scholars meet at a forgotten library on the University's campus. | |
| IC Date | July 8, 2014 |
| IC Time | Night |
| Players | Lotte, Blackwell |
| Location | Forgotten Library (RP ROOM) |
| Spheres |  
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Evening. A heavy fog has set itself as a blanket over the city - one of those nights were the world seems full of possibilities and mystery. Here, in this forgotten library on an unused corner the campus of the University, the pale figure of Lord Blackwell has come to enjoy the antique finery of this beautifully restored room. Full of richly appointed, century-old finery, the warm wood and thick carpeting is accented by over-stuffed chairs, carved side-tables and a hint of an old Victrola playing in the background.
Lotte was already there. A large book pressed against her modest chest. She was planning to read it, perhaps, but for now, she was staring down at the needle that read against the grooves of the disc that sang out the classic melody. She was simply entranced by it, perhaps reading into it more than what was being taken by others that would hear it.
Blackwell returns to the room, having stepped out to answer a call. Handing the contraption back to his personal guard, he wipes his pale hand with a quick flick from his handkerchief and asks that the man remain outside. Spying Lotte upon his return he greets, "Sister..." his tone warm and still with that unmistakable British accent, "...how are you doing this evening?"
The French woman finally pulls her pale gaze away from the simple crank machine and rests them upon the Nossie's visage. That smile, so warm and tender, tugs at her full lips. "Brother." She greets smoothly and turns in her spot, still standing and cradling the tome as one might a precious child. "I am doing well enough. How are you since last we spoke?"
Blackwell nods, "Quite well. I believe that my dwelling is finally suitable to receive company - should the occasion ever present itself." With the usual click-drag of his walking stick to accompany his steps, he takes his ease in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace, glancing to the empty hearth and remembering. "Oh...and I may have secured sufficient means to continue my research." The signet ring upon the index finger of his right hand flashes in the light just slightly as he rests his hand upon the arm of the chair and strokes the carved, wooden lion's head fixture that extends a few inches from the end. "It is so difficult to find supplies in this town. You'd swear that no one writes by hand these days."
"I'm glad to her of this." The smile remains and she eyes a place to sit. Without a second thought, however, she plops down against the carpet of the room and finally sets the book down. It seems to be some old stories regarding past mother figure goddesses and Lilith in particular. "Well, I suppose you could get a book and then have it rewritten by hand. I suppose you're looking for originals, though." She considers this. "Perhaps, hmm...perhaps I may look into starting a business that obtains just that. Originals and the odd. Specialty items."
