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Post by Larquél nó Orchis (D) on Oct 9, 2007 23:39:40 GMT -5
The key to good conversation I've found is having well, things to talk about. Adepts aren't always privileged to all the latest gossip of nobility, so we need to make do. With what we can't directly experience, we fake, and good old stories are a wonderful substitute.
I managed to find the bookstore, and giving a hearty smile to the clerk, sifted around the shelves. As an adept, I was always looking for patrons, so my dress was flattering. But I wasn't so arrogant to think it possessed me, so it was somewhat humble still. Loose cotton shirt and saffron pants made me stand out a bit in the crowd, at least the middle masses.
Satires were still my favorite, and to my dismay several good works were stowed on the top shelves, so I found myself perched carefully on my toes trying to get a good view of the bindings.
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Post by genevieve on Oct 14, 2007 11:01:58 GMT -5
I'd just received my allowance- distant though my parents are, geographically and emotionally speaking, they've always been generous and punctual with regular indulgences- and the muffled, heavy chink of my well-concealed moneybag was just too tempting. I slipped into the bookshop on Mont Nuit and sought out a nice dusty corner, heaving a few tomes into a stool of sorts, and slowly collected a small pile of volumes, all playscripts. I flipped through them, sorting into 'yes' and 'no' piles, working my way up the shelves until I could no longer reach, my fingers a hair's breadth from the bottoms of the books. Piling a couple of my stool tomes (atlases I think they were, always good, solid 'furniture' books!) on top of one another, I rather less than glamorously mounted the tower and began peering at the titles. Through a gap in the neatly arranged books, I caught a glimpse of startlingly green eyes at a level just below mine; no longer interested in titles, I removed more books to enlarge the peephole, inclining my head for a second by way of greeting, one elegantly shaped eyebrow arched in surprise. Wearing Today
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Post by Larquél nó Orchis (D) on Oct 14, 2007 16:43:57 GMT -5
A rustling of tomes brought my attentions away from the bindings. Following the sounds, I espied a hole in the shelves, and peering in, I find a pair of deep brown eyes of interest meeting my own.
"Strange, I thought the beautiful art collections were two shelves down." I said charmingly.
I wonder what figure matched those eyes?
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