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Post by picanic on Feb 7, 2008 23:28:53 GMT -5
Gregor lived in the library. Okay, not literally—he actually lived in an average little apartment on the east side—but he may as well have. He knew every shadowy little nook, every sneeze-inducing cranny. He coveted this place like it was his own; if the word wasn’t such a stretch for his terminally unforthcoming nature he might have even gone so far as to say he loved it. It was full of books (obviously), which by extension meant that it was full of hours upon hours of blissful distraction, which was the nightmare’s prime goal in life at the moment. He’d had a rough day at work and had come here as soon as his shift was over, ready to lose himself in a world of fantasy and adventure—or a world of macroeconomics, since he’d been way too tired to actually spend time scouring the shelves and had settled for the first thing he could lay his hands on.
For this reason Gregor wasn’t very far from the door; he’d perched himself on top of an empty trolley near the front entrance and was currently thumbing through the outdated tome, lean legs crossed and stretched out into the aisle before him. The look on his pale gaunt features was one of total concentration, but every minute or so he’d have to pause to push the same irritating clump of blond hair from his eyes. He’d considered asking the librarian on duty for a pair of scissors, but that would involve a) getting up, and b) talking to somebody. Oh well, next time he'd bring a hat.
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Post by arra on Feb 7, 2008 23:38:24 GMT -5
Crovin strode in angrily his short hair seeming to stand more on edge than usual as his jacket fanned out from his frame. His piercing light eyes flashing with a burning resentment. The library, of all the places to misplace something. There would be agony by joy and sunlight for one unfortunate nightmare if he had anything to say about it tonight.
He heard the young man before he saw him, the page shuffling tipping his head in that direction. He came to a standstill behind the reader heels giving one final click on the stone flooring and his cane coming down with a bell-like ring. Clasping its head lightly between his hands he gave a sharp cough, his eyes boring holes into the back of the other.
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Post by picanic on Feb 7, 2008 23:51:09 GMT -5
Gregor had a great talent for being oblivious to his surroundings, but a royally po’ed marelock breathing down your neck is kind of hard to ignore. At this close range, Crovin’s anger had the clarity of crystal in his sensitive mind, but that didn't stop Gregor from playing innocent out of spite. He didn't like being interrupted when he was reading.
"Problem?" he muttered sourly, lowering his book but refusing to turn.
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Post by arra on Feb 7, 2008 23:56:48 GMT -5
(I have no bloody idea of visualization of what a trolley is so take this as you will) Crovin snarled audibly at the boys insolence in no mood to play games, be civil, or attempt to maintain delicate balances of society. Taking a single step foward and bracing himself lightly on his cane he kicked the trolley away angrily. Then he settled himself back neatly into his balanced stance, hands once more folded lightly on the cane.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 8, 2008 0:11:56 GMT -5
Iseabail had been browsing the shelves, passing the time until rehearsal (when she wasn't in the Opera House or spending time with friends, she loved to read) when she heard the sounds of a scuffle.
Making her way over to the two Nightmares, the kilt-clad Scotswoman asked, her voice pitched so that they could both clearly hear her, "Is there a problem here?"
((Sorry, short.))
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Post by picanic on Feb 8, 2008 0:29:44 GMT -5
The nightmare uttered a single syllable of panic that sounded something like “whuh!” as his seat was kicked out from under him and crashed unceremoniously to the ground. He managed to catch himself in an unsteady crouch, but the impact jolted his bony frame anyway. He glared up at Crovin through wary brown eyes, and the first words that came out of his mouth were the obvious.
"What the HELL is your problem?" And that was about as expressive as Gregor ever got. He glanced Iseabail's way at her question, pushing himself up off the floor as he shrugged at her. "Apparently, yeah."
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Post by picanic on Feb 8, 2008 0:30:29 GMT -5
(In regards to the trolley: lol, I wasn't sure if it was the right word either but I meant the things that they wheel books around on. So I think that works.)
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Post by arra on Feb 8, 2008 0:35:33 GMT -5
Crovin arched his brow coyly at the displaced man, his lips curving upward in a predatory smirk. His eyes flickered over to the woman briefly before returning to the male. Cold silvery-gray eyes met the brown and did not shift away again. The raised eyebrow lowered and the smirk faded but while his face remained emotionless his mind filled with a bubbling sort of mirth that bordered dangerously on actual mental laughter.
"I don't know." He replied to the woman, his voice an even if projecting baritone that seemed both as quiet as a whisper and clear as a shout. "Is there?" He asked the male directly, otherwise ignoring his question.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 8, 2008 12:31:06 GMT -5
Iseabail couldn't help but roll her eyes at such a display. What was it about certain Nightmares that had them at each other's throats, even if they'd never met before? Of course, she didn't know that these two had never met, it was just a hunch she had.
"Weel, if yer goin' to be doing any fighting," she began, looking around for October, "I would suggest ye do it outside." Even though she didn't see October right then didn't mean the librarian wasn't around. Since Julien had fallen for the silver-haired nightmare, Iseabail had gotten to know her a bit better. Turning back to the situation at hand, the vampire sighed inwardly, figuring that drama liked to follow her around because she lived and worked at the Opera House.
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Post by october on Feb 8, 2008 14:38:58 GMT -5
October had been in the back room when the scuffle began. She was supposed to be alphabetizing the classics, but she'd shamelessly distracted herself with a foxed copy of "The Passion of the Moon." The trolley Crovin had kicked had crashed into the bookshelf opposite it, and it was the noise that broke her out of her blessed reverie. With a frown of annoyance, she set her book down and reluctantly left her little safe haven.
When she came upon the trio, she put her hands on her hips, very Athena-goddess-of-war-and-wisdom like. She spared a reassuring wink in Iseabail's direction in form of greeting.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked coolly. Her narrowed glare was mostly directed at Crovin. She knew her regulars, and she had a bit of a soft spot for Gregor, who usually kept to himself.
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Post by picanic on Feb 8, 2008 15:05:38 GMT -5
Gregor was all kinds of unnerved as he stared back at Crovin, who was clearly a few circuits short of a working brain. Just his luck to meet a mentally unstable marelock on his night off. “Yes! I mean no…stop that,” he croaked accusingly, tearing his gaze away at difficulty to glance at Iseabail instead, looking far from pleased with the suggestion. Taking this outside was the last thing he wanted to do; he had no illusions about his ability to best this guy (or anyone else for that matter) in a fight. Gregor took a chary step backwards. “I really don’t think that’s necessary. Look,” he reasoned as calmly he could, turning back to Crovin as he subtly wheeled the trolley in front of himself to use as a barrier, “I don’t want—”
The telltale click of October’s heels on the floor kept him from finishing, but Gregor had never been so relieved to be interrupted in his life; he turned towards the librarian with a hapless expression.
(Aaaand I'll let Arra field that question. :3)
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Post by arra on Feb 8, 2008 18:35:41 GMT -5
A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the prospect of taking any sort of fight outside, an almost appreciative glance befalling the scotswoman for the amusing idea. He then met the librarians cool gaze with his own unabashedly. His hand gracefully unfolded from the cane and he brought it to his left arm hooking the screaming horse-head over his elbow.
"Ah, madam October, is it? I assure you it is not in my nature to disturb the solace of the library, however," and his eyes again flickered to the back of the male. "It is also not in my nature to allow insolence and lethargy."
"As it is," he continued, his head tilting with the audible pop of neck vertebrae. "You can be of some assistance. A servant of mine was sent here several hours ago to search the histories of the Isle. I believe he was working in the scroll room. He misplaced something quite priceless and I've come to see it hasn't been further misplaced." A cool expression passed over his face briefly. "I do hope for his sake it is where he left it."
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Post by october on Feb 8, 2008 19:13:58 GMT -5
“Miss de Lune,” she corrected curtly. Her eyes didn‘t lose their frostiness as she silently appraised him. Servant? He was obviously well off, as if the regal way he held himself didn’t already scream status. “There is no crime against sitting and reading, I might add. Especially in a library.”
She sighed. She turned, motioning at him over her shoulder. “Come on, follow me. I’ll take you to the scroll room, Mr…. what is your name?”
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Post by arra on Feb 8, 2008 19:46:55 GMT -5
"No, you're quite right Miss de Lune, it is no crime to read.." He let his eyes slide over the boy. No reason to persue the matter with him further, the impression had been made and doubtless it wouldn't happen again. He inclined his head curteously to the woman in her own domain, "Crovin Diadem Nox. You may address me any way you please, all I ask of anyone is respect."
He followed to her right and behind again deferring to her within the boundaries of her own library slipping past the young man and nodding again to the scotswoman as he passed. He wasn't one to ignore anyone nor give them less than any respect they themselves deserved.
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Post by october on Feb 8, 2008 20:23:08 GMT -5
October allowed a small smile to curve her lips. "Mr. Nox, then." She led him to the back of the library where a crickety staircase wound up to the next level. She ascended with considerable grace, considering her three-inch heels. She led him to a room and stepped inside, flipping on the dust covered light as she did so. The walls were high stacks of slots that held many scrolls. A large desk was in the center, and a few wayward scrolls laid unrolled atop it.
She turned to him, her eariler severity softened somewhat. It was hard to be hostile at someone who had been nothing but polite so far. "If it's not to personal a question, Mr. Dox, what is it you're looking for? Perhaps I could help you search."
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