Inquiry is fatal to certainty [active/open]
Characters; Sanji, open (for great justice)
Location; In the Library with the lead pipe
Time; Late, somewhere around half past midnight
Content; stfu I'm not worried about anything B|
Format; Whatever works!
Warnings; Occasional impending books from grumpy librarians
Sanji pushed the thirteenth of a stack of books so covered in dust they might as well have been kept in a flour store away from him with a sigh, rubbing his temple in an exasperated way as his sight stung from too much reading and not enough sleep over the past few days. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy reading- though he didn't advertise the fact, he was something of a bookworm in what little spare time he had, especially since Miss Robin had been kind enough to point out a few very interesting historical accounts to him. What was the difficulty was the subject; Sanji was quite simply not the type who believed in magic, and yet here he was pouring over every tome and essay he had been able to extract from the obscurest corners of the institute's resources that so much as mentioned voodoo or witchcraft. He had been surprised at how much he had found, although by all accounts most of it was fantastical gibberish or even skeptical analysis bent on proving that it was gibberish. It didn't help that he himself was a naturally skeptical person, but he was also a rational one; he needed to solve a problem, and to do that he needed information, insight, research. He'd at least managed to filter out the most useless material and found the pieces of writing that seemed to take the dark arts the most seriously, but even after having dived into countless manuals on the correct usage of chicken's blood, pentagon ceremonies and other nefarious acts he was still just as unconvinced, and worse still clueless as to what the solution to the problem he was trying to solve could be.
The problem being that of the dilemma of his new kitchen assistant, Miss Tiana. After meeting her and discovering her unusual circumstances, and her very evident distress at them, he had resolved to find some way to help the enterprising young student, but knowing nothing about voodoo curses or how to cure them he hadn't the first idea of how to set about it. He even doubted very strongly whether it was voodoo at all, but rather some form of mutant ability that had affected her, however, until he had explored and eradicated all possibilities indicating otherwise that speculation would have to wait. Not to mention how to deal with someone that powerful- being able to burst into flames was all well and good, but he somewhat doubted that it would help if he was turned into a slug.
Sitting back from the reading lamp he steepled his fingers together and tapped his foot agitatedly- it didn't help that the school's smoking ban was starting to get to him, as he had been forced to cut down to half his usual dose of the habit due to the intense work schedule and the few areas where smoking was permitted on the grounds. He gave a silent, dry smirk at himself; he was even starting to hallucinate being able to smell tobacco when it wasn't there... he hesitated, and sniffed the air again. No, he really could smell it. Looking around the shelf unit behind him at the chaotically haired Irishman sitting at the main desk, he watched incredulously as the shambolic librarian coughed a large plume of grey smoke out whilst sitting directly in front of the no-smoking sign, a large and notably half-empty bottle of cheap wine in front of him. If he hadn't been so tired he might have laughed, but as it was Sanji just slumped his forehead against the table covered in leather-bound occult compendiums with a resigned sigh; everything seemed to be mocking him lately.
Location; In the Library with the lead pipe
Time; Late, somewhere around half past midnight
Content; stfu I'm not worried about anything B|
Format; Whatever works!
Warnings; Occasional impending books from grumpy librarians
Sanji pushed the thirteenth of a stack of books so covered in dust they might as well have been kept in a flour store away from him with a sigh, rubbing his temple in an exasperated way as his sight stung from too much reading and not enough sleep over the past few days. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy reading- though he didn't advertise the fact, he was something of a bookworm in what little spare time he had, especially since Miss Robin had been kind enough to point out a few very interesting historical accounts to him. What was the difficulty was the subject; Sanji was quite simply not the type who believed in magic, and yet here he was pouring over every tome and essay he had been able to extract from the obscurest corners of the institute's resources that so much as mentioned voodoo or witchcraft. He had been surprised at how much he had found, although by all accounts most of it was fantastical gibberish or even skeptical analysis bent on proving that it was gibberish. It didn't help that he himself was a naturally skeptical person, but he was also a rational one; he needed to solve a problem, and to do that he needed information, insight, research. He'd at least managed to filter out the most useless material and found the pieces of writing that seemed to take the dark arts the most seriously, but even after having dived into countless manuals on the correct usage of chicken's blood, pentagon ceremonies and other nefarious acts he was still just as unconvinced, and worse still clueless as to what the solution to the problem he was trying to solve could be.
The problem being that of the dilemma of his new kitchen assistant, Miss Tiana. After meeting her and discovering her unusual circumstances, and her very evident distress at them, he had resolved to find some way to help the enterprising young student, but knowing nothing about voodoo curses or how to cure them he hadn't the first idea of how to set about it. He even doubted very strongly whether it was voodoo at all, but rather some form of mutant ability that had affected her, however, until he had explored and eradicated all possibilities indicating otherwise that speculation would have to wait. Not to mention how to deal with someone that powerful- being able to burst into flames was all well and good, but he somewhat doubted that it would help if he was turned into a slug.
Sitting back from the reading lamp he steepled his fingers together and tapped his foot agitatedly- it didn't help that the school's smoking ban was starting to get to him, as he had been forced to cut down to half his usual dose of the habit due to the intense work schedule and the few areas where smoking was permitted on the grounds. He gave a silent, dry smirk at himself; he was even starting to hallucinate being able to smell tobacco when it wasn't there... he hesitated, and sniffed the air again. No, he really could smell it. Looking around the shelf unit behind him at the chaotically haired Irishman sitting at the main desk, he watched incredulously as the shambolic librarian coughed a large plume of grey smoke out whilst sitting directly in front of the no-smoking sign, a large and notably half-empty bottle of cheap wine in front of him. If he hadn't been so tired he might have laughed, but as it was Sanji just slumped his forehead against the table covered in leather-bound occult compendiums with a resigned sigh; everything seemed to be mocking him lately.