Day 27: Library
Libraries, he'd found, were rarely as dull as people made them out to be. Though he felt no magic in these tomes, they were still full of useful information. Maybe some of them could tell him a little bit more about this world he'd landed himself in.
For that matter, why hadn't he run into any of the others yet? They'd all been fairly close ( Read more... )
For that matter, why hadn't he run into any of the others yet? They'd all been fairly close ( Read more... )
Even stranger, he understood what these symbols meant. He was quite certain he had never seen such things before, yet here he was understanding them as if he hadn't known anything else all his life! He easily figured these were the means of communication, so he went through the rather awkward experience of copying them in order to write his own message. The symbols became shaky and jerky, as it was quite the chore to even hold the pen, much less draw those symbols with it.
After he was finished writing the shaky message, the nurse suggested to escort him to the library where, according to her, he could 'read a book'. After Scar had entered, he was left alone near the shelves and found himself looking at the strange items stored upon them. These things must be what the woman had called 'books', yet he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.
He noticed these items nearly had the same symbols on the surface as the bulletin board had. Curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out for one of the books - one that read The Jungle Book along with a name that hardly told Scar anything - and pulled it from the shelve. He investigated the book from all sides, eventually flipping it open. Scar carefully glanced at the paper, recognizing the symbols he had seen before. The symbols made words, the words made sentences, and to his surprise he could conclude the sentences eventually made a story.
His expression changed into a frown. The odd discoveries where just piling up for him, weren't they?
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She’d been to the sunroom so many times now, so heading instead to the library seemed like a slightly different way to waste one's time at least as the blonde strode her way in. Integra had to also admit a somewhat morbid curiosity as to what titles madmen would keep on hand for their prisoners to peruse anyway. If the things on the intercom were even half truth though, some of the prisoners may be being transferred as soon as tomorrow. Wherever Doyleton was a codename for. But that was not something she worried with now.
For one, she was looking for a certain vampire as she passed the different shelves, sometimes pausing to skim across their names and authors. At some point she needed to pass along the information regarding her new, experimental partnership with Colonel Mustang that had been hammered out during breakfast. But she’d never seen her servant since. Maybe he’s decided to avoid me, she thought to herself only smirking in belief that no one could see her before she rounded another corner to almost run into a rather rough, yet lanky looking man fully immersed with a book.
It was hard to say whether he shouldn’t have been standing there so stupidly, or if she should have been thinking less of Alucard and more of her direction as she paused for the moment in lieu of any apology.
Her blue eyes glanced to the book’s spine, before looking back into the dark face of the stranger. Really, one that wasn't so different a skin color than her own. “A fan of Kipling then?” The knight questioned in usual tone, then already noting the odd mark across his eye. A war wound?
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Scar's bright, green eyes looked up from the book as he was interrupted. Being so caught up with the book he was holding (after all, it was the first time he actually saw one), he hadn't noticed a female approach him. It took a moment for the lion-changed-human to link the name she had mentioned to the book, understanding that this 'Kipling' was the one who told the story. Or wrote it, whatever. This female merely implied to his opinion.
"Difficult to say." he replied. "After all, I have just began." Not to mention Scar didn't have anything to compare it with, aside from the stories he was told at home when he was merely a cub.
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The woman didn’t miss the stranger’s hint of British accent either, though it wasn’t nearly as rich as her own. He wouldn’t be from London like her then, but perhaps from a former colony or the outskirts somewhere. “I see. Well you did look awfully absorbed.” It was odd to think someone really wouldn’t be familiar with those fables yet. They did date back to the late 1800’s at least. Though then again not everyone had had a father who encouraged a strong interest in literature from a very early age as hers had.
“The boy raised by wolves would be the most popular story of course, but I preferred Rikki-Tikki-Tavi as a child. It centers around a mongoose as he protects his English family from two malevolent cobras in their Indian home.” The allegories to her own life couldn’t be missed there. Rikki-Tikki as the servant to humans, killing other creatures that would seek to harm them. Though she would enjoy seeing the confusion on her vampire’s face should she ever openly compare him to a mongoose of all things.
“Would you be part Indian then? Perhaps from the United Kingdom as I am?” It could explain his accent and dark skin all at once if he were. Though specifically saying United Kingdom rather than the simplified U.K. had been purposeful. She'd seen how easily something as simple as place could confuse some here. They didn't all even agree on the world consisting of the same countries.
Though again, the woman had nowhere specific to be at this moment, so she actually didn't mind lingering to learn more about the man. His eyes were a startling green as well, certainly different. But so was she.
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He wondered what doubtlessly remarkable things he would discover next.
"Not quite." Scar replied to the woman's question, not seeing the benefit of lying about it. After all, the truth would be uncovered by the moment she started asking questions about this United Kingdom place. "I have not heard of these locations before, I am afraid."
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The knight only frowned a little at his response, watching the odd man as his attention returned with such focus to the pages of what she saw as a mere children’s book. “And apparently you aren’t alone in that ignorance. I’d suppose India, Africa, Canada, Australia, or America would have no significance to you either?” His accent was still curious, so she only named countries that could have possible ties to that. How could one speak English but never have heard of England?
She could just walk off and leave him to his book now, as clearly it was more interesting to him than the fact that a knight was addressing him (never mind that he could have no idea who she was), but Integra still wanted to know about that mark across his eye. If it was from a battle, he may be a soldier. If he were a soldier, there may be some use for him later on. His build was to the scrawnier side from what she could tell, but real skills depended little on muscle mass.
"If you haven't been here long, I can tell you that most of the prisoners all claim different homelands. Some places real, some fictional." By her concept of reality at least. "And many of us are formerly of military organizations, yet with no recollection of being captured by the enemy." She had a distracting wish for a warm cigar between her fingers as she continued. "But how about you? Were you a part of any army?" Or did he just sit around staring at books all day?
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