http://payglorytoashes.livejournal.com/ (
payglorytoashes.livejournal.com) wrote in
multiversallogs2011-11-09 04:41 pm
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Entry tags:
bitterness without a name
Who: ILDE and RODOLPHUS
What: a gift!
Where: a coffee house that is not Queequeg's
When: afternoon... sometime...
Notes: if I say "girl you in danger" that's actually directed at Rodolphus
Warnings: inappropriate poetry
It is still a fine enough day that sitting outside to drink coffee is pleasant, and so Rodolphus has arranged, somewhat abruptly, to meet with Ilde, whom he still thinks of as 'the girl from the fog trip'. Sometimes, as now, 'who gave me the brooch' is appended to that.
There is something about the virtually motionless, straight-backed way he sits that simply does not look comfortable, yet one may get the impression he could easily maintain the position for hours. His manner of dress rarely varies, which was convenient in the event of Dean's funeral; it's still tailored charcoal grays and blacks, though of course, he forwent the brooch at that time. It is on right now, naturally, the same way one wears the sweater their aunt sent them when meeting that aunt. But he genuinely likes the brooch, at least as much as he likes anything, which is why there is a book lying next to his cup of expresso. It is a little worn and not, on first glance, much to look at, but there is still a trace of gilt on the leather cover, and the pages are very well preserved. The illustrations inside are black and white, a little grim, a little bold, definitely strange.
A younger man might fidget, check the time, look around, or inspect his prospective gift. Rodolphus stares off in the distance, perhaps thinking, perhaps not. He is aware of his surroundings, but they are relatively unimportant.
What: a gift!
Where: a coffee house that is not Queequeg's
When: afternoon... sometime...
Notes: if I say "girl you in danger" that's actually directed at Rodolphus
Warnings: inappropriate poetry
It is still a fine enough day that sitting outside to drink coffee is pleasant, and so Rodolphus has arranged, somewhat abruptly, to meet with Ilde, whom he still thinks of as 'the girl from the fog trip'. Sometimes, as now, 'who gave me the brooch' is appended to that.
There is something about the virtually motionless, straight-backed way he sits that simply does not look comfortable, yet one may get the impression he could easily maintain the position for hours. His manner of dress rarely varies, which was convenient in the event of Dean's funeral; it's still tailored charcoal grays and blacks, though of course, he forwent the brooch at that time. It is on right now, naturally, the same way one wears the sweater their aunt sent them when meeting that aunt. But he genuinely likes the brooch, at least as much as he likes anything, which is why there is a book lying next to his cup of expresso. It is a little worn and not, on first glance, much to look at, but there is still a trace of gilt on the leather cover, and the pages are very well preserved. The illustrations inside are black and white, a little grim, a little bold, definitely strange.
A younger man might fidget, check the time, look around, or inspect his prospective gift. Rodolphus stares off in the distance, perhaps thinking, perhaps not. He is aware of his surroundings, but they are relatively unimportant.
no subject
"Hellsing is very busy, but I would enjoy talking about poetry. Though I have not had opportunity to do much of that before, and am not widely read."
no subject
"I write down the things I remember," she shrugs, because it's relevant. "Poetry- segments of stories. Sheet music." The prose gets inadvertently paraphrased more often than she realizes, but she memorised enough poetry in her teens that that tends to be more consistently accurate, and she's physically incapable of screwing up the music. "Dorothy Parker is good for that; she wrote a lot of short, sharp poems that stick in your mind."
no subject
This is Baedal, however.
"Perhaps, if you have the time, you could record some for me," he says, that typical lack of inflection somewhat flattening out the possible subtext. Probably he means Dorothy Parker, but actually he'd be okay with anything else too.
no subject
(She wonders only fleetingly what her choices will say about her.)
After a beat, "I write it, as well- I like them. Words." She also tends to be irritatingly pedantic about the meanings thereof, which isn't as unrelated to this as it might immediately seem.
no subject
"I would be interested in whatever writing you have to share." The sheer stubborn neutrality of it is almost comical, and is punctuated by another sip of expresso. And in the interest of polite sharing, he adds, "I used to keep journals."
As if he still doesn't. But he ain't sharing that.
no subject
"I wonder what makes people write things down." She considers her tea for a moment, then adds, "Besides being told to do it."