Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officejelly_ashworthMarch 31 2007, 03:13:34 UTC
"Your bird had an encounter with my curtain."
“No worries; it’s housebroken,” Jelly said amiably, lowering the bag. She peered at the torn slice of paper. “Emphasis on broken. Damn the devil, should’ve know it’d be a bad idea to have Gwendal chase the silly thing; the feathered psycho always loses control when he gets too close. That was from my last pack of prism paper, too; it’ll be another month at least before that sandbrained loon in Cairo remembers which continent I’m on and sends a refill. This is such a-”
Whatever Jelly was going to say next was waylaid by the sight of bookshelves. Jelly may have been a Slytherin in dress and ambition, but she was an Ashworth at heart; knowledge was always a lure and an old book was always a temptation worth noticing. Eyes drawn to a long line of Arabic calligraphy gleaming softly on calf leather, Jelly ran a finger down the book spine, immediately curious and distracted.
“Kitab almu'sahhahat. What’s the kingdom’s transfigurations guru doing with the Book of Adjustments? I thought Pythagoras went out of style with your set back in the 1930’s.” Her hand slid over another familiar title. “Splendor Solis-this is the Nuremberg copy, isn’t it?-The Tao of Physics-ew, Capra psychobabble-The Golden Bough-oh, you are so not a pureblood-Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine-socialistic grumbling written by a spiritual vegetarian-Paradigm Shifts and Aeonics-I like the part about needing laughter-Aula Lucis-this is the original Waite edition, isn’t it?-The Flower Songs of Hungry Coyote-still say Shakespeare has better rhymes and plot-”
And so she went, gleefully jumping from one familiar title to the next. It was like being back in Boston House; the manor library was a typical sanctuary and the staple of many Ashworth childhood mental diets, even for a restless misfit like the family bastard.
At one book Jelly’s hand paused, almost hesitating; she pried the volume out and opened it. She read: “‘And then I passed beyond these forms, which were so beautiful they had almost ceased to be, and, having endured strange moods, melancholy, as it seemed, with the weight of many worlds, I passed into that Death which is Beauty herself, and into that Loneliness which all the multitudes desire without ceasing.’”
Carefully, Jelly turned the page.
“‘All things that had ever lived seemed to come and dwell in my heart, and I in theirs; and I had never again known mortality or tears, had I not suddenly fallen from the certainty of vision into the uncertainty of dream, and become a drop of molten gold falling with immense rapidity, through a night elaborate with stars, and all about me a melancholy exultant wailing. I fell and fell and fell…’” She closed the book. “Aunt Sadie used to read this one at supper: ham, biscuits, spiced pecans, and Yeats. Or hot-water cornbread, the kind with plenty of cheddar and crumbled bacon. Have you ever had hot-water cornbread, Professor?”
The cheerfulness of her expression was an obvious invitation.
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officenigel_klynMarch 31 2007, 22:33:28 UTC
Nigel contained his amusement at the young lady's chagrin over losing her bird - whoever she was talking about clearly had difficulty remembering her, and that was nothing to laugh at. He just waited for her to finish before telling her that he thought he might be able to repair it. But she never did finish. Instead, she descended into awe at his collection of books. She skipped the chemistry and physics texts, but then, he could not expect her to be interested in those. He kept them mostly for reference purposes, anyway, and he rarely used them. The others he kept for the pleasure of having them - culture kept him grounded even as it lifted him, and philosophy provided insight into the tentative relationship between magic and muggle. His world, his very existence, contradicted itself, and it felt good to find ways to connect the broken halves.
When the girl had stopped reading, Nigel opened his eyes (though he did not remember closing them) and looked at her, this odd girl in possession of a profound understanding of a good culture and intricately crafted prism paper of a quality he had rarely seen and tried to figure her out. For a Slytherin, her obsession with knowledge rivaled a Ravenclaw. "I can not say that I have ever had that particular dish," he said in reply to her last question.
"Those books you looked at, they are all original copies. I believe in quality and authenticity," Nigel said. "They are available for use by students, so long as the students agree to bring them back. I invested significant time and assets into gathering my library."
Suddenly, his leg twinged harshly and he stumbled slightly before he eased himself into his chair. A large hand massaged the offended limb and slowly the pained expression on his face eased. "Do you have a name, enigmatic Slytherin girl?" he asked with a smile.
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officejelly_ashworthApril 1 2007, 05:48:54 UTC
"Do you have a name, enigmatic Slytherin girl?"
“I’m not enigmatic; I just talk faster than most bother listening. But generally I’m just Jelly.” His leg. Something was wrong with his leg. Why? “A wizard’s library is his paradise of thought. Well, that’s what one of my less socially apt tutors used to say; he had a very tidy view of heaven and a dire addiction to printed paper. Personally, I say any heaven without a soundtrack isn’t worth the effort of admission, no matter how well stocked their bookshelves. Different folks, different views on value and volume.”
So he was willing to loan out the books? Interesting, but… “Have you had any takers on that offer, Professor? Not that I’m challenging Hogwarts’ position as the intellectual nexus of my generation, but most of us barely manage to stomach the daisy dose of Prophet let alone Paracelsus. Homework and hormones, and the hasty hunt for happiness keeps the teenage brain busy, y’know? It’s amazing our attention spans spare the time to eat dinner-ah.”
Reaching into her knapsack, Jelly took out a bento box. She was rather fond of this one; the two-tray tier was efficient and conserved bag space, and, well, it was pretty. There was, Jelly understood, a gentle pleasure in holding something beautiful in your hands. Even if it was something as simple and silly as a lacquered lunchbox. Opening to reveal a neatly arrangement of foodstuffs, cornbread included, she held it out.
“Give ‘em a try, Professor.” She smiled, charming and random. “A mouth closed to new tastes reflects a mind locked against new experiences, right?
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officenigel_klynApril 2 2007, 06:23:02 UTC
"Pleased to meet you, Jelly, I'm Professor Nigel Klyn," he said, but she did not hear him. Or at least, he did not think she did.From philosophy to scheduling, this girl jumped subjects faster than a lightning bolt jumped transformers at a power station. She amused Nigel, enough so that he let her speak her words of heaven and business, all the while arranging a small meal built oddly for two. Why she would carry enough food to feed two people as she chased down her errant paper bird baffled the professor, but he had learned long ago not to question a free meal. Especially one that smelled so good.
Sampling the cornbread, he leaned back in his chair, and his hand began absentmindedly massaging his leg. He rarely even thought about it anymore - the pain was so constant, and the relief from the massage so basic, that it had become instinctual. "They are wonderful," he said, taking a second bite from the soft bread. Just sweet, but not too sweet, and filled with the vague taste of both corn and fresh made bread, with just a touch of honey...it melted in his mouth. "Where do you get the facilities to make these? I didn't think students were allowed amenities like ovens in their dorm - I don't know where they would put them."
Then his attention drifted back to the paper on the table, and he glanced at it curiously. His hand itched to pick up his wand and examine it again, but that would be rude, at least until the girl had finished eating, herself. So he waited, but curiosity eventually overcame him. Curse this thinking man's mind...
"So tell me," Nigel asked, smiling, "How does a student come by such an exquisite artifact as this paper?"
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officejelly_ashworthApril 3 2007, 05:46:05 UTC
"Where do you get the facilities to make these? I didn't think students were allowed amenities like ovens in their dorm - I don't know where they would put them."
“Thus causing them to bully and bribe the resident elfsnots into granting kitchen access.” Her smile was sharp. “I’m amazingly persuasive with a skillet. Or a freshly-sharpened fork.”
"How does a student come by such an exquisite artifact as this paper?"
“By having in her acquaintance a genius unable to decipher the complex materialistic wishes of a sixteen year old female.” Looking remarkably relaxed, Jelly took out a slim case of chopsticks. She thumbed it open and offered a pair to Nigel first, before picking up her own.
He’s got that look… Just like Conrad actually, that same halfhearted reluctance to ignore curiosity in favor of courtesy. There was no way to curb such people, she knew. They’d just end up wandering off and setting the shower on fire later.
“You can have it if you want,” she said, chopsticks busy with deciding between a pancake and a mini-sausage. “But the illusion can’t be activated if the paper is damaged. The spell composition is tricky, too; it can’t be fixed with a standard mending Charm. It’s not that the paper itself is enchanted; the paper fibers are treated with a special substance during production. Some kind of lubricant, I think. I don’t know.” One chopstick dangling in her mouth like a stray cigarette, Jelly held up her hand, finger spread. “The illusion is “programmed” in by human touch. Folding the paper leaves oil on it, and that acts as a catalyst of some sort. I don’t know how that works either. Sorry.”
She popped a bit of broccoli into her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. “He only makes toys like that because I kept breaking the other ones. Used to anyway. I think he thought I’d be more careful with something I had to construct myself.” Smiling, Jelly picked at the pancake. “Totally wrong. I was way more careful with deconstructing old toys than making new ones. Would you like to try the pancake sandwich? It’s cream cheese and jam.”
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's OfficesoundingfurrowsApril 3 2007, 06:11:58 UTC
Nigel listened carefully as she explained how the paper worked, and where she'd gotten it.
"Don't mind if I do," he commented as he sampled one of the pancake sandwiches with the chopsticks she had so graciously offered him. Mostly, he felt unsure why they were eating pancake sandwiches with chopsticks, and the ensemble of the meal as a whole confused him, but he went with it. She was showing incredible hospitality by sharing a pleasant lunch with him, and he did not wish to offend her. Her accent threw him off now and again, though, giving her away as an American, but she seemed bright and quite open minded, so he paid it no more mind except to listen closely so he did not misunderstand her.
"I think I can probably fix the paper, and I would never dream of taking it from you," Nigel continued, after he had properly finished his bite of pancake. "I would be interested in speaking with this acquaintance of yours. That particular piece of magic is quite impressive to me." Ah, yes, they had come around to the problem of fixing the torn paper, a prime time to bring out his wand and begin examining it again. So, he did just that, tapping the paper twice to get a feel for the resonance of the magic. Then he muttered in that strange language again and the paper glowed softly, humming wordless speeches into the ear of the professor.
"It's odd, I haven't seen design like this in a very long time, never on the commercial market. It's almost as though the fibers of the paper communicate with one another. It's a real work of art." He tapped the paper again, twice, and a high pitched ping sounding in the room only briefly and then resonated away. "Would you like me to try and fix it?"
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officejelly_ashworthApril 4 2007, 03:20:11 UTC
"Would you like me to try and fix it?"
What would it be like, she thought wistfully, to encounter a problem and be able to do solve it on your own…magically?
“Wouldn’t you be disappointed otherwise?” Jelly’s observation was without rancor. “I'll let you keep it if you do. Equal pay for equal ability. Besides, meh, I wouldn’t handle it any gentler the second time around. You could hang it at your window to catch the light. Kind of like a visual wind chime, y’know? A crane can symbolize vigilance.” She tapped the chopsticks against her bottom lip. “Hmm, they kill snakes, though. Maybe it’s best to abandon the silly thing either way; I don’t think Salazar’s House can handle any more animosity. We’re a delicate lot, after all.”
She poked at the pancakes again. “My ‘acquaintance’ is a lousy conversation partner. He’s got this cute quirk of wandering away in the middle of a sentence. Or a desert. Oh, and that one time he stepped out to buy a newspaper and a week of worry later called from Bangkok saying that it’s ok, he was fine, and could his wife mail his wallet and a pair of galoshes. Does that sound like reliable company to chat with, Professor?” She paused. “Mind you, that was a fun week. Especially the “wet” markets, with all the snails and frogs and turtles and snakes and eels. Insects too. Grasshoppers taste remarkably similar to potato chips.”
Re: Monday, 10 April 2006, Lunchtime, Nigel's Officenigel_klynApril 4 2007, 21:37:35 UTC
Nigel smiled and, very carefully, used his wand tip like a fine needle, muttering in a different language than before. Very slowly, the tear seemed to stitch itself back together. If one looked closely, they might be able to see the individual fibers of the paper rise as the wand tip hovered over them; they hovered in the air momentarily, and then joined with their counterparts across the rift, making one thread at a right angle with itself. Tiny fibrils, thousands of them, all doing this at once made the paper appear slightly fuzzy as he fixed it.
"Slytherin has some very intelligent people in it right now," Nigel said, sealing the last of the rift into a whole piece of paper again. Calmly, he ran his wand up the scar that had been a rip, muttered an incantation, and tapped the paper. It flashed slightly for a moment, and then even the scar was gone. He marvelled at the way the light half caught in the unique paper, and then scattered in an odd way.
Softly, he laughed at her description of her friend. "I had a professor in university that did that. Brilliant chemist, but what a terrible person to have to meet with. He couldn't keep his mind on the task at hand, and if he got an idea, nothing could deter him from checking it out save another idea. Where is your friend now?"
“No worries; it’s housebroken,” Jelly said amiably, lowering the bag. She peered at the torn slice of paper. “Emphasis on broken. Damn the devil, should’ve know it’d be a bad idea to have Gwendal chase the silly thing; the feathered psycho always loses control when he gets too close. That was from my last pack of prism paper, too; it’ll be another month at least before that sandbrained loon in Cairo remembers which continent I’m on and sends a refill. This is such a-”
Whatever Jelly was going to say next was waylaid by the sight of bookshelves. Jelly may have been a Slytherin in dress and ambition, but she was an Ashworth at heart; knowledge was always a lure and an old book was always a temptation worth noticing. Eyes drawn to a long line of Arabic calligraphy gleaming softly on calf leather, Jelly ran a finger down the book spine, immediately curious and distracted.
“Kitab almu'sahhahat. What’s the kingdom’s transfigurations guru doing with the Book of Adjustments? I thought Pythagoras went out of style with your set back in the 1930’s.” Her hand slid over another familiar title. “Splendor Solis-this is the Nuremberg copy, isn’t it?-The Tao of Physics-ew, Capra psychobabble-The Golden Bough-oh, you are so not a pureblood-Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine-socialistic grumbling written by a spiritual vegetarian-Paradigm Shifts and Aeonics-I like the part about needing laughter-Aula Lucis-this is the original Waite edition, isn’t it?-The Flower Songs of Hungry Coyote-still say Shakespeare has better rhymes and plot-”
And so she went, gleefully jumping from one familiar title to the next. It was like being back in Boston House; the manor library was a typical sanctuary and the staple of many Ashworth childhood mental diets, even for a restless misfit like the family bastard.
At one book Jelly’s hand paused, almost hesitating; she pried the volume out and opened it. She read: “‘And then I passed beyond these forms, which were so beautiful they had almost ceased to be, and, having endured strange moods, melancholy, as it seemed, with the weight of many worlds, I passed into that Death which is Beauty herself, and into that Loneliness which all the multitudes desire without ceasing.’”
Carefully, Jelly turned the page.
“‘All things that had ever lived seemed to come and dwell in my heart, and I in theirs; and I had never again known mortality or tears, had I not suddenly fallen from the certainty of vision into the uncertainty of dream, and become a drop of molten gold falling with immense rapidity, through a night elaborate with stars, and all about me a melancholy exultant wailing. I fell and fell and fell…’” She closed the book. “Aunt Sadie used to read this one at supper: ham, biscuits, spiced pecans, and Yeats. Or hot-water cornbread, the kind with plenty of cheddar and crumbled bacon. Have you ever had hot-water cornbread, Professor?”
The cheerfulness of her expression was an obvious invitation.
Reply
When the girl had stopped reading, Nigel opened his eyes (though he did not remember closing them) and looked at her, this odd girl in possession of a profound understanding of a good culture and intricately crafted prism paper of a quality he had rarely seen and tried to figure her out. For a Slytherin, her obsession with knowledge rivaled a Ravenclaw. "I can not say that I have ever had that particular dish," he said in reply to her last question.
"Those books you looked at, they are all original copies. I believe in quality and authenticity," Nigel said. "They are available for use by students, so long as the students agree to bring them back. I invested significant time and assets into gathering my library."
Suddenly, his leg twinged harshly and he stumbled slightly before he eased himself into his chair. A large hand massaged the offended limb and slowly the pained expression on his face eased. "Do you have a name, enigmatic Slytherin girl?" he asked with a smile.
Reply
“I’m not enigmatic; I just talk faster than most bother listening. But generally I’m just Jelly.” His leg. Something was wrong with his leg. Why? “A wizard’s library is his paradise of thought. Well, that’s what one of my less socially apt tutors used to say; he had a very tidy view of heaven and a dire addiction to printed paper. Personally, I say any heaven without a soundtrack isn’t worth the effort of admission, no matter how well stocked their bookshelves. Different folks, different views on value and volume.”
So he was willing to loan out the books? Interesting, but… “Have you had any takers on that offer, Professor? Not that I’m challenging Hogwarts’ position as the intellectual nexus of my generation, but most of us barely manage to stomach the daisy dose of Prophet let alone Paracelsus. Homework and hormones, and the hasty hunt for happiness keeps the teenage brain busy, y’know? It’s amazing our attention spans spare the time to eat dinner-ah.”
Reaching into her knapsack, Jelly took out a bento box. She was rather fond of this one; the two-tray tier was efficient and conserved bag space, and, well, it was pretty. There was, Jelly understood, a gentle pleasure in holding something beautiful in your hands. Even if it was something as simple and silly as a lacquered lunchbox. Opening to reveal a neatly arrangement of foodstuffs, cornbread included, she held it out.
“Give ‘em a try, Professor.” She smiled, charming and random. “A mouth closed to new tastes reflects a mind locked against new experiences, right?
Reply
Sampling the cornbread, he leaned back in his chair, and his hand began absentmindedly massaging his leg. He rarely even thought about it anymore - the pain was so constant, and the relief from the massage so basic, that it had become instinctual. "They are wonderful," he said, taking a second bite from the soft bread. Just sweet, but not too sweet, and filled with the vague taste of both corn and fresh made bread, with just a touch of honey...it melted in his mouth. "Where do you get the facilities to make these? I didn't think students were allowed amenities like ovens in their dorm - I don't know where they would put them."
Then his attention drifted back to the paper on the table, and he glanced at it curiously. His hand itched to pick up his wand and examine it again, but that would be rude, at least until the girl had finished eating, herself. So he waited, but curiosity eventually overcame him. Curse this thinking man's mind...
"So tell me," Nigel asked, smiling, "How does a student come by such an exquisite artifact as this paper?"
Reply
“Thus causing them to bully and bribe the resident elfsnots into granting kitchen access.” Her smile was sharp. “I’m amazingly persuasive with a skillet. Or a freshly-sharpened fork.”
"How does a student come by such an exquisite artifact as this paper?"
“By having in her acquaintance a genius unable to decipher the complex materialistic wishes of a sixteen year old female.” Looking remarkably relaxed, Jelly took out a slim case of chopsticks. She thumbed it open and offered a pair to Nigel first, before picking up her own.
He’s got that look… Just like Conrad actually, that same halfhearted reluctance to ignore curiosity in favor of courtesy. There was no way to curb such people, she knew. They’d just end up wandering off and setting the shower on fire later.
“You can have it if you want,” she said, chopsticks busy with deciding between a pancake and a mini-sausage. “But the illusion can’t be activated if the paper is damaged. The spell composition is tricky, too; it can’t be fixed with a standard mending Charm. It’s not that the paper itself is enchanted; the paper fibers are treated with a special substance during production. Some kind of lubricant, I think. I don’t know.” One chopstick dangling in her mouth like a stray cigarette, Jelly held up her hand, finger spread. “The illusion is “programmed” in by human touch. Folding the paper leaves oil on it, and that acts as a catalyst of some sort. I don’t know how that works either. Sorry.”
She popped a bit of broccoli into her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. “He only makes toys like that because I kept breaking the other ones. Used to anyway. I think he thought I’d be more careful with something I had to construct myself.” Smiling, Jelly picked at the pancake. “Totally wrong. I was way more careful with deconstructing old toys than making new ones. Would you like to try the pancake sandwich? It’s cream cheese and jam.”
Reply
"Don't mind if I do," he commented as he sampled one of the pancake sandwiches with the chopsticks she had so graciously offered him. Mostly, he felt unsure why they were eating pancake sandwiches with chopsticks, and the ensemble of the meal as a whole confused him, but he went with it. She was showing incredible hospitality by sharing a pleasant lunch with him, and he did not wish to offend her. Her accent threw him off now and again, though, giving her away as an American, but she seemed bright and quite open minded, so he paid it no more mind except to listen closely so he did not misunderstand her.
"I think I can probably fix the paper, and I would never dream of taking it from you," Nigel continued, after he had properly finished his bite of pancake. "I would be interested in speaking with this acquaintance of yours. That particular piece of magic is quite impressive to me." Ah, yes, they had come around to the problem of fixing the torn paper, a prime time to bring out his wand and begin examining it again. So, he did just that, tapping the paper twice to get a feel for the resonance of the magic. Then he muttered in that strange language again and the paper glowed softly, humming wordless speeches into the ear of the professor.
"It's odd, I haven't seen design like this in a very long time, never on the commercial market. It's almost as though the fibers of the paper communicate with one another. It's a real work of art." He tapped the paper again, twice, and a high pitched ping sounding in the room only briefly and then resonated away. "Would you like me to try and fix it?"
Reply
What would it be like, she thought wistfully, to encounter a problem and be able to do solve it on your own…magically?
“Wouldn’t you be disappointed otherwise?” Jelly’s observation was without rancor. “I'll let you keep it if you do. Equal pay for equal ability. Besides, meh, I wouldn’t handle it any gentler the second time around. You could hang it at your window to catch the light. Kind of like a visual wind chime, y’know? A crane can symbolize vigilance.” She tapped the chopsticks against her bottom lip. “Hmm, they kill snakes, though. Maybe it’s best to abandon the silly thing either way; I don’t think Salazar’s House can handle any more animosity. We’re a delicate lot, after all.”
She poked at the pancakes again. “My ‘acquaintance’ is a lousy conversation partner. He’s got this cute quirk of wandering away in the middle of a sentence. Or a desert. Oh, and that one time he stepped out to buy a newspaper and a week of worry later called from Bangkok saying that it’s ok, he was fine, and could his wife mail his wallet and a pair of galoshes. Does that sound like reliable company to chat with, Professor?” She paused. “Mind you, that was a fun week. Especially the “wet” markets, with all the snails and frogs and turtles and snakes and eels. Insects too. Grasshoppers taste remarkably similar to potato chips.”
Reply
"Slytherin has some very intelligent people in it right now," Nigel said, sealing the last of the rift into a whole piece of paper again. Calmly, he ran his wand up the scar that had been a rip, muttered an incantation, and tapped the paper. It flashed slightly for a moment, and then even the scar was gone. He marvelled at the way the light half caught in the unique paper, and then scattered in an odd way.
Softly, he laughed at her description of her friend. "I had a professor in university that did that. Brilliant chemist, but what a terrible person to have to meet with. He couldn't keep his mind on the task at hand, and if he got an idea, nothing could deter him from checking it out save another idea. Where is your friend now?"
Reply
Leave a comment