location :: provided with a resource against calamity

[oneofthequick]

Putting aside his sword in favour of a pen is more difficult than Doul had anticipated, but for the time being, he will do just that. Today, he is quietly buried deep in a back stacks of one of Xanadu's many libraries and contentedly reading some dusty tome or treatise.

Comments

[coilsuponcoils]

Mogget has always had an affinity for libraries. Something about the secrets they keep, perhaps, the danger invariably buried deep in the stacks-- though that would be more likely if Mogget weren't an irreconcilable coward. Perhaps more likely is the muffled quiet and cool, which makes for a wonderful place to nap.

But even stronger than his affinity for libraries is his invariable ability to be wherever he'll be the most irritating. He's not actually a cat, of course, but call it a species trait that's rubbed off.

Green eyes glow in the dimness, and the small bell which dangles from his red leather collar chimes softly, sweet and soporific, in rhythm to his padding steps. Without a word either way, he stretches up to the table where Doul's monograph is spread, settling himself into a small, white loaf atop it. Books make the best pillows.

[oneofthequick]

Goodness, a catloaf approaches and has bested Doul's reading material. Gently and oh-so-politely, he moves to skritch behind the cat's ears in an attempt to rouse it and then nab his papers out from underneath. "Hello."

If the distraction isn't good enough, he suspects that this cat would rather play with the edges of his reading material. It would be rather awkward to try explain that the lovely, old book he was reading has been shredded and gnawed by a small, white cat and he, Uther of Deadhouse Doul, was entirely unable to stop it.

[coilsuponcoils]

One eye blinks open, the pupil dilating briefly before narrowing to focus on Doul. The tail curls up into a question mark before flumping down on the papers Doul was aiming to extricate from under him.

'I was trying to sleep, in case it had escaped your notice.'

Never mind the fact that Doul might have been trying to read; priorities and all that.

[oneofthequick]

"My apologies. May I have the papers you're resting on and then I'll be out of your way?" Doul doesn't think that being polite to a cat will help much, but he knows better than to even hint at rudeness.

He can't actually continue his research elsewhere, because the pages the cat has be-flumped are the index of other works on the Ghosthead Empire and probability mining.