Octavian had decided to attempt a better understanding of Judeo-Christian theology, idiocy though he knew it to be. His conversation with Michael had convinced him he ought to know his enemy
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What, her boyfriendkissingpersontypething improving his mind? We can't have that. Maia may be sunnier since the necklace-gift, but in many ways she's still the same. Selfishness comes naturally to her; sod Aquinas and that old fart Augustine, he has a living--kind of--breathing--again, kind of--girl there come to see him.
Uninvited, she sits down next to him, clocks the titles of the books, and her eyebrows shoot up. She looks at him for an explanation.
"Hello." He glanced up and smiled, though he didn't lay his book aside just yet. "What, I should think you'd approve. I'm taking your worldview seriously."
"I did think I saw you more than once in here. The apostle Paul is talking about you in his first letter to Timothy. Apparently you've fallen into transgression but shall be delivered through childbearing, here in the second chapter." He noticed her interest in the wine, and offered her his goblet without question. "You won't like it. I've watered it."
"It was just an experiment!" A Cockney voice yelled as Basher was rather unceremoniously tossed out of the Forbidden Forest by the one centaur that didn't get affected by his experimental sex bomb. (It worked fantastically, by the way. The centaurs are now rutting. You're welcome for the mental image.)
Basher stood up, fixed his coat, and stomped away from the forest.
He spotted Octavian with the books and food nearby and pondered if it would be worth it to steal his wine.
Well, shit, now he couldn't. Or could he? (Answer: No. He's not a good pickpocket. Just a blower-upper.)
"Ah, no, mate, still steaming from that centaur giving me what for for throwing that bomb at them. I probably did more for them in five minutes than three mating seasons did, so why's that one mad?"
Predictably, Octavian had zero idea what this fellow was going on about.
"I believe there's some sort of regulation against starting a war with the centaurs," he said primly, and went back to his reading in the letters of Paul to various churches.
Meg, also in Hogwarts robes and carrying an Arithmancy textbook under her arm, had decided she, too, wanted to study outside. She was a little disappointed that another person had taken what looked like an ideal spot, but she could be friendly, so she offered him a smile and found a place to sit nearby enough that they could talk but not so close she would be crowding him.
She took out her parchment and the book, then noticed she'd forgotten something important. Looking up, she cleared her throat, her expression chagrined. "Um... You wouldn't happen to have a quill I could borrow, would you?" she asked.
Looking up from his books, Octavian raised an eyebrow. "I do. It won't be much use to you without an inkwell, however. Have you got ink, or do you need to share mine?"
"Oh." Meg looked, if possible, more embarrassed. "I guess I do need to share your inkwell. If you don't mind. I can always run back and get my own. It's just... I thought I was used to quills and ink instead of pencils and pens, but old habits die hard."
"It's quite all right. I've ink to spare. Come sit by me if you like."
It couldn't have been a less suggestive invitation if he'd tried deliberately to make it so. Dry, businesslike, friendly only in the most casual of ways. The girl didn't look to be much younger than Octavian, perhaps by three or four years, and she was studious, which commended her to him. He would not make sport of her.
"You're a modern person, then." He said so because of the reference to pencils and pens. "Quills are new to me as well. At home I used a stylus on wax, or a reed-pen with ink to write upon scrolls. What year are you from?"
Yukimura had been practicing kendo on the edge of the forest, weaving through the trees for the challenge it provided his body. It was, in some ways, more fulfilling than just practicing in the dojo or on the field between the school and the forest.
It had been a while since he'd had the opportunity to speak with Octavian at length, with everything that had been happening. When he saw the boy, he walked over, curious as to what held his attention. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the young ruler until he was prepared to speak. He sat on a root and waited to be acknowledged.
(( LJ ate the first iteration of this tag. >.< It was longer. ))
The fine vellus hair prickled on the back of Octavian's neck. He glanced up from his book, deliberately casual and slow, to see who was watching him.
Ah. Yukimura.
Octavian closed his book, marking his place with the crimson ribbon affixed to its binding, and reached for the bottle of wine. "Will you drink with me, Yukimura? I have no sake."
"A drink with company is more pleasing than the best sake alone," Yukimura said easily. He gestured to the books. "What is it you're studying? It looks to be a rather complicated subject, by the number of books."
"The ghastly religion that's taken over the whole of the Western world," said Octavian, who need not suppress his sourness on this point when talking to a daimyo. "It's worked its profoundly troubling ethos into so many aspects of life. As distasteful as I find it, it behooves me to learn the basics at the very least." He handed the Bible to Yukimura, to occupy the other while he poured some wine. It appeared that the house-elves had packed his picnic basket with enough glassware and cutlery for an entire garden party.
Now, this is a rather interesting discovery. The Baron was enjoying the fresh air of the grounds, and noticed Octavian on the lawn. He waited a moment before approaching him, just watching the quite-lovely young man read his book, thinking a few thoughts about him that probably would have impressed Nero himself. It was hard not to, as, he was at that ideal age, when they were just so pretty. However, rather than drifting up to him and announcing, "Why hello there. Don't you think that uniform would look better off?", he adjusted his scarlet robe and floated over with a polite smile. He didn't seem the sort that would take too well to that, as, the young man's air of nobility was evident to someone life Vladimir
( ... )
Octavian slid a crimson ribbon between the pages to mark his place before looking up to address the hovering bloated personage above.
"It's a pleasant day for reading out-of-doors." It was at once an agreement and a mild, unobtrusive correction. "I would read whatever the weather, but it's true that natural light is less taxing to the eye. Sir, I mean no disrespect in inquiring: is it the purple that you wear, or a coincidence of fashion?"
The purple: imperial purple, Tyrian purple, which was actually Tyrian red, depending on the garment's age.
The Baron was rather amused by the young man's correction, as it was true that he hadn't been very specific. Pretty, smart, and polite apparently- a good combination. "Ah, a good point. It can be a good day for reading on any sort of a day. I don't think you can be disrespectful with a question that is meaningless to me. It is red, I thought, but it sounds as if you refer to a style more than a color?" He sounded apologetic at requiring explanation, and wondered if he might be wearing something that had some particular meaning in the wizarding world without realizing it.
"I refer to style, color, and rank all in one. Pardon my mistake," for clearly it had been a mistake, since the man saw no signification in the color. "It happens that your manner of dress is similar to one of my home city, except that the color is one reserved for the highest ranks and occasions. A single stripe of the Tyrian dye is worn by senators of the Republic. We call it the purple; its appearance may be likelier scarlet, or of the shade of blood, depending on the richness and age of the garment. What you wear, all of it that color, would be reserved for a general in his triumphal procession, or for
( ... )
Comments 121
What, her boyfriendkissingpersontypething improving his mind? We can't have that. Maia may be sunnier since the necklace-gift, but in many ways she's still the same. Selfishness comes naturally to her; sod Aquinas and that old fart Augustine, he has a living--kind of--breathing--again, kind of--girl there come to see him.
Uninvited, she sits down next to him, clocks the titles of the books, and her eyebrows shoot up. She looks at him for an explanation.
Reply
"Hello." He glanced up and smiled, though he didn't lay his book aside just yet. "What, I should think you'd approve. I'm taking your worldview seriously."
Reply
She is about to grab the wine, but looks sideways at him as if to ask it's alright if she does.
"I'm in there," she lies, nodding at the Bible.
Reply
Reply
Basher stood up, fixed his coat, and stomped away from the forest.
He spotted Octavian with the books and food nearby and pondered if it would be worth it to steal his wine.
Reply
He had a way of asking questions without really asking.
Reply
"Ah, no, mate, still steaming from that centaur giving me what for for throwing that bomb at them. I probably did more for them in five minutes than three mating seasons did, so why's that one mad?"
Reply
"I believe there's some sort of regulation against starting a war with the centaurs," he said primly, and went back to his reading in the letters of Paul to various churches.
Reply
She took out her parchment and the book, then noticed she'd forgotten something important. Looking up, she cleared her throat, her expression chagrined. "Um... You wouldn't happen to have a quill I could borrow, would you?" she asked.
Reply
Reply
Reply
It couldn't have been a less suggestive invitation if he'd tried deliberately to make it so. Dry, businesslike, friendly only in the most casual of ways. The girl didn't look to be much younger than Octavian, perhaps by three or four years, and she was studious, which commended her to him. He would not make sport of her.
"You're a modern person, then." He said so because of the reference to pencils and pens. "Quills are new to me as well. At home I used a stylus on wax, or a reed-pen with ink to write upon scrolls. What year are you from?"
Reply
It had been a while since he'd had the opportunity to speak with Octavian at length, with everything that had been happening. When he saw the boy, he walked over, curious as to what held his attention. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the young ruler until he was prepared to speak. He sat on a root and waited to be acknowledged.
Reply
The fine vellus hair prickled on the back of Octavian's neck. He glanced up from his book, deliberately casual and slow, to see who was watching him.
Ah. Yukimura.
Octavian closed his book, marking his place with the crimson ribbon affixed to its binding, and reached for the bottle of wine. "Will you drink with me, Yukimura? I have no sake."
Reply
"A drink with company is more pleasing than the best sake alone," Yukimura said easily. He gestured to the books. "What is it you're studying? It looks to be a rather complicated subject, by the number of books."
Reply
Reply
Reply
"It's a pleasant day for reading out-of-doors." It was at once an agreement and a mild, unobtrusive correction. "I would read whatever the weather, but it's true that natural light is less taxing to the eye. Sir, I mean no disrespect in inquiring: is it the purple that you wear, or a coincidence of fashion?"
The purple: imperial purple, Tyrian purple, which was actually Tyrian red, depending on the garment's age.
Reply
Reply
Reply
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