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Place: Manfred Von Karma's Study
Jul. 4th, 2008 12:40 am*He's spent the few days since he arrived quietly observing and learning all that he can about the nature of the place in which he has found himself. The occurrence of so many versions of the same people was jarring at first, but he has become accustomed to it, and started to study individuals to determine the best way to tell them apart. Miniscule differences in body language, vocal infection, mannerisms - things that would be of little importance in the outside world, yet in here take on a significance all of their own. His own presence seems to have called little attention, and from that he deduces that there must be or have been other versions of himself here, although he has seen none.
The many versions of the boy that he has observed is disconcerting, and there is a deep revulsion every time that he encounters one - although thus far he has succeeded in remaining outwardly impassive.
He has also learned the art of creating rooms, although it was not intentional. The day he arrived, he spotted a door that he thought he recognised, and upon opening it found himself in an exact replica of his study in Germany - stone floor covered in heavy rugs, walls lined with bookcases and cupboards - ancestral portraits filling the gaps between. The familiar heavy walnut desk and several blue leather upholstered chairs are deceptively perfect replicas of his own. The oversized stone fireplace behind the desk had a welcoming fire in the grate, and his sword cane and a small hunting knife had been where he expected to find them in a cupboard by the door - the latter now concealed in his pocket as was his usual practice when at home.
It had always been a sanctuary, and it is now, as he sits at the desk with a laptop in front of him and a cup of Earl Grey cooling rapidly beside it next to the inkpot and quill. The conversation he is having on-line concluded, he sits back with his eyebrows knitted in a frown, a slight smile playing on his lips still.
He reaches for the cup and takes a sip of tea, staring at nothing in particular, but with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face.*
Hnnn... we shall see.
The many versions of the boy that he has observed is disconcerting, and there is a deep revulsion every time that he encounters one - although thus far he has succeeded in remaining outwardly impassive.
He has also learned the art of creating rooms, although it was not intentional. The day he arrived, he spotted a door that he thought he recognised, and upon opening it found himself in an exact replica of his study in Germany - stone floor covered in heavy rugs, walls lined with bookcases and cupboards - ancestral portraits filling the gaps between. The familiar heavy walnut desk and several blue leather upholstered chairs are deceptively perfect replicas of his own. The oversized stone fireplace behind the desk had a welcoming fire in the grate, and his sword cane and a small hunting knife had been where he expected to find them in a cupboard by the door - the latter now concealed in his pocket as was his usual practice when at home.
It had always been a sanctuary, and it is now, as he sits at the desk with a laptop in front of him and a cup of Earl Grey cooling rapidly beside it next to the inkpot and quill. The conversation he is having on-line concluded, he sits back with his eyebrows knitted in a frown, a slight smile playing on his lips still.
He reaches for the cup and takes a sip of tea, staring at nothing in particular, but with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face.*
Hnnn... we shall see.
