WHO: Roland Deschain and OPEN WHAT: Researching WHERE: The library WHEN: Saturday afternoon WARNINGS: TBD STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Roland wasn't feeling particularly pleased with Madison Valley. He'd offered his services, only to have them not only refused, but his motives questioned, his integrity challenged, and his age used against him. As if his age mattered. He was a gunslinger, tried and tested, and that was far more important than any years he might or might not have lived, say thankya. He couldn't help but feel a little angry about it all. He hadn't been trying to set himself up as any more important than anyone else (Sai Georgia, who'd accused him of such a thing had certainly done a good job of that for herself), nor had he tried to use his relative rank in Gilead. He'd only tried to do what he'd been trained to do, and look how it had turned out.
He was done with Madison Valley, and wished he could find a way to go todash back to Gilead and leave these ungrateful folk behind him forever.
Cuthbert was right, though. As long as there was no way out, they could at least use the time to see what this world had to tell them about the Tower. He'd read the awful set of books written by the Stephen King fellow, and while they'd been upsetting, they'd not offered him a great deal of practical knowledge. Not until he was older, anyhow. Much older.
Saturday afternoon, then, found him in the library, surrounded by a pile of books, his left hand resting on his head as he worked through the books. He was growing himself quite the headache, trying to understand the books. He'd never been much of a reader, even in his own language, and these letters were strange and difficult for him. Still, he soldiered on, becoming more and more frustrated as book after book yielded him nothing.
He didn't look up as he heard a person sit across from him at the table - they were public tables, after all, and when they asked him if they could sit there, he simply nodded. "Aye, I'd not keep you from it, so I wouldn't."