multiversallogs | unfortunately, "I can show you the world" is stuck in my head and I can't think of other lyrics

Who: Ilde and Rodolphus
What: good morning!
Where: Rodolphus' sad cottage in Sobek Croix
When: the morning after Antonin bought Rodolphus a million drinks
Notes: literally a million, read the log, I definitely wrote "a million" and so did Ammmy
Warnings: description of hangovers by a person who's never been drunk

Out of sheer stubbornness, Rodolphus is in fact awake by mid-morning, though he earnestly wishes he were not. There are spells and potions he could do or make, but right now, stunned into inertia by the fact this is happening at all, he is merely drinking water in his bizarrely pink kitchen. He is doing this by filling one of his three glasses from the running tap, drinking the water, and sticking the glass under the tap again. Among his few, dull reflections of the morning are the following: he really wishes he had not said that thing about Severus, he probably needs to shave, and at least nobody's trousers were eaten by anything. He believes, anyway.

It is not the conclusion of the hour, but eventually, he may come to see the night before as good for him, under a certain definition of good — a reminder that life hurts, like right now, but he's alive and things could be worse. He warily contemplates food. It would mean going out, probably.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“Some of the poems in this were censored from previous publication,” she says, “although I don't think Lola was one of them. I'm not sure why the other ones were censored, particularly- although one of them is called 'Lesbos' and this was the 1860s, so there's always that.”

Although you should really know what you're getting, with Baudelaire. Some of his imagery is a little too Catholic for someone who only ever wore the image of that faith like an ill-fitting costume, but she doesn't mind the trappings, just never quite grasped what lay beneath.

Catholicism is like an exotic land to Rodolphus, who has a loose, scholarly concept of what it is in theory and little idea of what it's like in practice. It's another reason why he doesn't always take to poets whose reputations are made on the flouting of certain conventions or the use of blasphemous imagery: sheer disconnect. Still, you don't need to grasp every aspect of Catholicism or religion in general to understand what Baudelaire does with it.

He turns the pages at random, ending up at Le Léthé. Undoubtedly he's not getting the full nuances, but based on what he's reading, he quietly shuts the book.

"It will be an interesting challenge," Rodolphus says, sincere but also toneless. This is a true statement on a few levels. "Historically, the censorship and banning of literature has rarely proved effective in the ways those in power might have wished."

It's as much commentary on the earlier book she sent him as he'll give.

It merits a slight pause, accordingly, although Ilde isn't inclined (this time) to press her luck; sending him the book probably qualified, although she isn't sure where exactly that falls when it seems necessary (and courteous?) to inform him that she knows. That there are better ways of doing it than obliquely referencing war poetry is...valid, but also not her style, so.

“At home, we had a section of the library that was just devoted to books that had been banned somewhere. Just for novelty value, I think.” Her father liked that sort of thing- some of them he had more because the reason they were banned amused him more than because he was at all interested in reading them himself. If he could find an edition of the year it was banned, so much the better.

"I had a few myself," Rodolphus says, though that small shelf did not include the poet Ilde sent him. That he did have some banned books is incidental rather than through deliberate effort. Once you get to a certain era and you start collecting books, it'd be quite difficult to avoid having a few.

"I suppose the demonic tomes probably count as well," he adds after a moment's reflection. They weren't all banned. Just some of them. But most old pureblooded families had a handful.

Interest: piqued. “What sort of demonic tomes?” ...of course she's curious about that, even if it's probably not poetry.

This conversation is very revealing for both of them, but only Rodolphus derives any distress from it. At the same time, it's not enough distress to make him stop talking to Ilde, which is probably its own, special kind of distress. His eyes stray unconsciously to his wand, thinking of the last time he was free to practice that particular kind of magic.

"The summoning of otherworldly creatures, primarily," he admits. "The summoning and binding to a common reality... so bound, they are not really useful, but they will answer questions on interesting topics, sometimes. Some of them respond well to rhyme and rhythm, I could not say why, so poetry can play some small part."

“How Faustian. Maybe demons have literary preferences? Some poetry has more of a pleasing cadence than other kinds.” That's an interesting place for her mind to go on this topic, yes, but she's touching on it very lightly, not entirely sure what to make of it. Even at this point- she keeps encountering things that feel like stories, and she has to remember that until she was sixteen, she would've sounded like a story to herself.

Which is confusing, a little.

“Although 'otherworldly creatures' is a much larger category than 'demon'.”

He shrugs, reluctant to warm to the subject — this kind of magic is unpopular in his world, though she probably wouldn't know that. Unless she mentioned it to Severus. Ah, well. Rodolphus can't be expected to live his life according to what Severus may or may not find out.

"'Demon' may not be the right term. To me it means spirit. They come from somewhere else and when they are inclined to explain themselves, it is not always easy to understand. Especially when they like wordplay." He sips his coffee. "One enjoyed limericks."

The dryness only just hints at despair.

Ilde laughs, seemingly in spite of herself- “There once was a...?” Don't finish that sentence. Do not. She drinks her tea instead, trying to imagine what sort of limericks were involved. This is not very successful, but it is privately very entertaining.

Eventually, she says, “I know a lot more about poetry than how any kind of magic works,” which is an observation more than any kind of complaint or suggestion that someone should teach her. (If she wants to learn, then she'll find someone who is a teacher and ask; she isn't inclined to slide inquiries in slyly, although she rarely turns down an opportunity just to watch and remember.) “Or any sort of practical thing, probably.”

He can't quite stop himself from mentally filling in the one limerick he remembers from that particular demon, which is probably the only non-Antonin or Evan Rosier related memory he has involving the phrase 'two cocks'. Probably. (It is too early in the day for this.) Per usual, he only sips his coffee, privately resolving to forget that as soon as possible.

Rodolphus shrugs at her comment. "Life demands more of us than practicality, no matter how smug people can be in their small-mindedness."

“I have great artistic and sentimental value to the world,” she says, in that complacent tone she sometimes adopts to mock herself, shifting slightly to adjust her sitting position to get more comfortable. (Just when she thinks she's getting used to the changes going on in her lately, something else changes, too.) “I think I can confidently assert that, as long as nobody asks me what worlds I mean.”

How important is one that's already over, after all.

The hint of smile goes directly behind the coffee cup as he drinks again, but he's sure she'll see it anyway. This is one of those times when saying nothing is the best response, he believes, and he rarely misses the opportunity to take that route.

As if his smile (the hint of it) is an answer in and of itself, she says, “See, I knew you'd agree with me.”

unfortunately, "I can show you the world" is stuck in my head and I can't think of other lyrics

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject