Open Post: Hooked On A Feeling

[rememberettersberg]

What hobbies have you got? Susan had asked him, and he had to admit to not being sure. At school and for some time after, he played rugby. More recently, he only watched it on the television Peter had set up in the tech cave. Here at the mansion, he has books and research and the beginnings of mentoring, but it occurs to Nightingale that he has been building himself a facsimile of work and very little else. He's survived that way for half a century and been perfectly all right (though others may disagree with that assessment) but here, in this hinterland between realities, he is feeling a growing itch for... whimsy, perhaps.

At this moment, propping up the bar with a pint of bitter and a crochet hook, no one would dare accuse him of being whimsical. Nightingale is scowling fiercely at the hook, the yarn, his pint, and the book sitting open beside it. Company would be more than welcome.

Comments

[rememberettersberg]

"It feels less magical than it ought to," he admits. "I would expect the whole place to be thrumming with unusual energy, but everything seems quite mundane." He grins. "Until it suddenly isn't."

[timebethine]

"As though the magic here is less inherent to the place than interjected betimes from somewhere else," Laertes muses.

[rememberettersberg]

"That's an interesting theory," says Nightingale. "I wish we had more idea of what this place actually is."

[timebethine]

"Do you have any theories?"

[rememberettersberg]

"It all feels like a grand experiment. Or a game. I suspect we're here for entertainment."

[timebethine]

The idea raises the hairs on the back of Laertes's neck. He can all too easily imagine lurkers in the shadows, peering unseen at him and all his friends. If Nightingale's theory is correct, Laertes wonders whether these supernatural spies are benevolent nisser or something more sinister. "Entertainment? Of whom?"

[rememberettersberg]

"It all feels very fae to me." He frowns. "Although that word covers multitudes."

[timebethine]

"I have thought more than once that this feels like the old stories of wandering into the land of the fae," says Laertes, nodding. "And it would well explain the regular mischief that attends us here."

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale nods along with him. "It's the only way I can make sense of it. And from everything I know of the fae, we won't be done here until they decide so."

[timebethine]

"What have the fae to do with magic, in your world?"

[rememberettersberg]

"They are creatures of magic. Their laws are their own, their reality not quite ours."

[timebethine]

"That does seem to fit--I wonder, would they delight in the mischief of giving us books about their nature, knowing full well we're powerless to resist them? Or would they conceal that knowledge from us?"

[rememberettersberg]

"It all depends on the individual. I can certainly imagine many such creatures gaining amusement from such a thing."

[timebethine]

"I shouldn't trust our library on that subject, then," says Laertes wryly. "I wonder how much else I can trust--the books on shipbuilding seemed sound enough."

[rememberettersberg]

"I think we have no choice but to hope for clemency." He smiles. "I'm sure we'd know by now if anyone had been horribly misled by a book here."

[timebethine]

"I'll be on my guard, all the same." Then, rising from his chair, Laertes makes a bow. "It's been a pleasure, sir. I'll be diligent in my practice--but not too diligent," he promises.

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale dips his head in a bow-like gesture in response. "Very good. It won't be long until we can get you started on new spells."

[timebethine]

"I'll look forward to them--but not ask what they are, lest I be tempted to read ahead." He grins. "Farewell, Nightingale."

[rememberettersberg]

"Go well, Laertes." His smile melts into a scowl as his attention turns back to his crafting.