|Lewis Carroll (twas_brillig) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-01-20 03:42:00
|Entry tags:||cassandra, lewis carroll|
b>WHO:</b> Lewis Carroll and Cassandra
WHAT: Just Charles and a teenage girl and awkwardness abounding
WHEN: Wednesday afternoon
WHERE: Diogenes Club
WARNINGS: Charles having ~Feelings~ but really not much else
Charles had done everything he could to avoid holing up in his apartment since spending a week writing and nothing else. He chose, instead, to write at the new Diogenes Club because he found the atmosphere both inspiring as well as easy to work in.
Occasionally someone would stop by and he would have a chat with them before they went on their way. It ensured that he remained social instead of secluding himself. He had to work on that and he knew it. So while Hans worked in his bookshop, Charles was working at the club, scribbling away before he stopped himself so he could spend the evenings with Hans.
Cassandra wasn't the type to go out drinking, especially as she looked like a teenager girl. No one ever would have believed that she was twenty-one.
But this building felt different and the gruff man at the door didn't even try to stop her from going in our ask for any identification. He breathed blood and Cassandra looked away from him as she entered.
Inside it was warmer than out and she peeled off her coat slowly, looking around. The familiar face of The Write caught her attention and she approached him. "Hello, sir," she said quietly as she reached his side.
Being called sir was strange nowadays, but Charles looked up either way. He was as dismayed as he was delighted to see Cassandra standing over him. He enjoyed the girl, but the things she made him feel-
He was a horrible man and he knew it.
He swallowed roughly before putting aside his pen. "Cassandra," he said with a smile, desperate to hide how uncomfortable he was around her. It wasn't her fault. Hell, it wasn't really even his fault. "How are you?"
Cassandra thought about his question for a moment before replying, "pale - twisting in and out of affections." She frowned as though pained and then tried again for different phrasing, one more logical. "Well. I'm well."
"And you, sir?" Cassandra asked him. He was a proper gentleman from a time of gentleman. One call them sir. Or Charles. That was his name.
He had only met her on a few occasions and spoken to her a few more, but he did love the way she spoke in riddles. It reminded him of his own writing and his own mind. It did make him sad why she had come to this, but he couldn't help but admire the young girl she was now.
"I'm glad to hear you're well. Do you want to sit? My treat, you can order anything you'd like. I've been well. Writing mostly. You can call me Charles if you would rather." 'Sir' made him feel a little uneasy.
"Hot chocolate?" Cassandra asked him with a hopeful expression. "I like the cream."
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Cassandra leaned over a little to look at his writing. It worked it scratches and blurs and made Cassandra's head ache though, so she quickly stopped. "They come from deep," she told him with a serious expression. "You write and write and sometimes among the scratchings phrases draw themselves together like curtains on a closing stage? Sometimes it hurts to find such purity of curling language that even velvet couldn't catch your fall."
Charles waved someone down so he could order a hot chocolate for Cassandra with extra cream.
"Sometimes it does," he nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he had understood her correctly. "I haven't written in a long time but recently I was inspired and I'm not...afraid of it any more."
Cassandra looked at him, a serious frown of concern on her face. "Some things you should be scared of," she assured him. Then she smiled, the previous expression disappearing as though it had never been there at all. "What are you writing?"
Charles tried not to be disconcerted by that. "Are there things I should be scared of now?" he asked, worried about Hans.
"No," Cassandra said easily before a hot chocolate was placed in front of her. She smiled in delight and took a spoon to the cream. "Hector says no to too much sugar, says it will unsettle me." For a moment the innocent-looking girl appeared worldly and knowing in her amusement. "Hector must miss that I am already unsettled."
Cassandra could only see her madness when she found her moments of sanity.
If she said no, she must have meant it. Charles relaxed and then he smiled as he watched her get excited about her hot chocolate. Silently he reminded himself to behave.
"Does it bother you?" he asked, truly curious. He cared and he hoped her lot in life didn't cause her too much pain.
Cassandra tilted her head as though studying Charles or hearing distant voices - both - and then she said, "It's a blade that takes my heart to be called a liar. I speak only ever truth, but ofttimes it twists around the back of my skull like a snake and no one can hear it."