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 Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2009 9:48 pm
When he was not practicing gunmanship or sleeping, Asmadai could be found in the library, poring over some ancient tome or another. Today he had found an old etiquette book of some sort from perhaps one hundred and fifty years before his time. Etiquette for the Ball Room by Lucien Carpenter: it was mildly fascinating. He hadn't been intending to read about Victorian moralities, it had sort of organically grown out of the study of the Victorian priesthood.
Okay, perhaps he had been a little more distracted by the varied and sordid fashions whereby these rules could be broken. In fact, they were so incredibly innocuous that he, a Catholic priest, was rather... surprised. So surprised, in fact, he didn't notice the other man in the library for a short while - but once he had, it felt incredibly awkward to be reading a manual intended for women in the presence of another man.
Asmadai closed the book self-consciously, adding it to the stack on his left hand and trying to pretend that it was completely normal to be fascinated by reading how the showing of an ankle was scandalous.
He coughed. "Good afternoon," he said to the vaguely familiar man, trying not to seem stilted. "The weather outside is quite nice today, don't you think?"
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2009 8:12 pm
Archer found libraries to be comforting things.
It wasn't due to any sort of memory associated with them; Archer had very few memories to speak of. Rather it was that in a library, one could find everything one needed to know, and to a man who felt like he knew much less than he ought to, much less than normal men his age did, this was quite a comforting thing. It was his guidebook, inside the walls and on the dusty shelves were the answers to every question he needed to ask. It made up for his lack of memory in a way, gave him a chance to catch up with himself. As long as there was a library around, he had often reassured himself, no one need know about his predicament. As long as there was something that could tell him how to act, he could bluff his way through.
The result of this mentality was a sort of trancelike state, one that he shifted into when trying to study and retain a large number of facts at the quickest speed possible. It was a skill born from necessity, but the downside was that when his trance was disrupted, he was disoriented.
"...Pardon?" He blinked, trying to regain his bearings, and slowly it came back into focus. "Ah! Ah, please do excuse me, I was a bit lost in my thoughts. Good afternoon, indeed."
A pause, as the weather was carefully considered. "Why yes, I believe it is," he concluded at last. "Most excellent for the garden, do you not agree?"
His eyes slid longingly to the book he had been lost in, alighting on it for the briefest of moments before returning his attention to the speaker. "However, I do not believe we've been properly introduced? I am Archer, Archer Wells, and I hail from England."
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Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 6:38 pm
"Mmm," agreed Asmadai, "Although I believe it would do just as well in poorer weather. Miss Sian has a gift for caring for plants."
He watched the younger (younger?) man glance back at the book, and felt a bit guilty for it; he hadn't considered that he might be interrupting Mr. Wells. After a moment of consideration, he decided that he had already caused the man to be distracted. "Father Asmadai Riffael. It's pleasant to meet you, Mr. Wells."
For a moment, there was silence, and then he continued, "England, then? If you don't mind me asking, what era are you from?"
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