peafowl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peafowl) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thechanged2013-11-25 07:35 pm
peafowl) wrote in thechanged2013-11-25 07:35 pm
Entry tags:
awakening, take II // the library // day 30
Who: the twins and you!
Where: library
When: day 30 afternoon
What: the twins wake up. again.
Warnings: none. yet. the zimin twins are their own warning, otherwise.
Scenario A
The library is usually peaceful, no? Even a fae's library, for all of its master's eccentricities and inhumanity, retains that essential air of tranquility and dusty, slightly dubious-smelling (from all the mouldering parchment and paper, no doubt) decorum. Of course, someone could stand to clean here more often, of course, tidy up the stacks left by the Awakeneds' research efforts, excise the occasional mouldy quatro, put the inexplicable pulp novel that's wedged between tracts on illnesses of goats and gardening manuals back among its peers, but such things are merely minor annoyances.
What are neither minor nor mere are peafowl, however. Especially not peafowl that fall, entangled together, off one of the lower bookshelves. They displace several hefty tomes on their way down, and a candelabra that may or may not be a Possession. The candelabra bounces off the head of the blue peacock and he squawks. His twin groans, like one with a hangover.
They don't remember falling asleep. But then, they don't remember much of anything. They've made an awful lot of noise, however -- especially for a library.
Scenario B
Somewhat later, a touch more clear-headed, the peafowl are sitting on a polished table in the library, leafing through several anatomy tracts at once. None of the tracts depict anything at all like the peafowl and at least two are clearly from worlds where the standard "tube with four limbs and a head" arrangement is ... well, not so standard. The writing is unfamiliar and the paper the twins have for ostensibly taking notes is all but completely blank.
The pink peacock is frowning at an illustration of what appears to be some sort of slug on a stalk. The blue peacock has given up on the tracts and is lying on the table on his back, his face covered by his hands. His ostentatious tail is partially fanned out and crushed beneath him.
Where: library
When: day 30 afternoon
What: the twins wake up. again.
Warnings: none. yet. the zimin twins are their own warning, otherwise.
Scenario A
The library is usually peaceful, no? Even a fae's library, for all of its master's eccentricities and inhumanity, retains that essential air of tranquility and dusty, slightly dubious-smelling (from all the mouldering parchment and paper, no doubt) decorum. Of course, someone could stand to clean here more often, of course, tidy up the stacks left by the Awakeneds' research efforts, excise the occasional mouldy quatro, put the inexplicable pulp novel that's wedged between tracts on illnesses of goats and gardening manuals back among its peers, but such things are merely minor annoyances.
What are neither minor nor mere are peafowl, however. Especially not peafowl that fall, entangled together, off one of the lower bookshelves. They displace several hefty tomes on their way down, and a candelabra that may or may not be a Possession. The candelabra bounces off the head of the blue peacock and he squawks. His twin groans, like one with a hangover.
They don't remember falling asleep. But then, they don't remember much of anything. They've made an awful lot of noise, however -- especially for a library.
Scenario B
Somewhat later, a touch more clear-headed, the peafowl are sitting on a polished table in the library, leafing through several anatomy tracts at once. None of the tracts depict anything at all like the peafowl and at least two are clearly from worlds where the standard "tube with four limbs and a head" arrangement is ... well, not so standard. The writing is unfamiliar and the paper the twins have for ostensibly taking notes is all but completely blank.
The pink peacock is frowning at an illustration of what appears to be some sort of slug on a stalk. The blue peacock has given up on the tracts and is lying on the table on his back, his face covered by his hands. His ostentatious tail is partially fanned out and crushed beneath him.
A
The voice coming from nearby is surprised- and rightfully so, because Wordsworth distinctly remembers that you two disappeared for a good while.
"You're making quite the ruckus..." He lets out a sigh, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Do you want me to get that for you?"
Re: A
"We're fine, thanks," she says, stretching. "Do we know you?"
"I think," her twin says, from the floor. "He's the typewriter I kissed. After the whole business with the vines. Eurgh."
He sits up and looks at Wordsworth, simultaneously embarrassed and peevish.
no subject
Yeah, no, he's not even going to mention the word "kiss" here. It's just...ugh, not something he wants to recall. At all.
"I heard that you two were asleep, though...what's with the sudden reappearance, again?"
no subject
"We have absolutely no idea, darling," he says. "At least, I don't, but usually my twin and I have the same general level of awareness, even if the details may differ."
His twin nods and adds, "it's probably the magic being wonky. Again."
B
Once she's close enough, she pokes at the blue one with the pool cue she's taken to carrying around. "Where've you two been?"
Re: B
"Here, darling," he says, grumpily. "It seems we ... fell asleep again. On, er. A bookshelf."
"Oh, c'mon," says his twin. "It was far from the worst place we've ever woken up in."