Chapter Four- The Complaint of Chaucer to his Glass

[thetrudger]

Filtered to all children aged thirteen and below
Hello. My name is Geoffrey Chaucer. I’m conducting a survey of sorts, and I was hoping you would participate. I would just like to know your name and age. I’d also like to know about your stay at Paradisa.
/Filter

Filtered to Sherlock
Pardon me, sir. I wonder if you could conduct your experiments and other loud activities at a more decent time. It has come to my attention that you’re keeping other residents up at night.
/Filter

Filtered to Conan
Has the noise stopped?
/Filter

[He writes the following slowly, frustrated and bored.]
To you, my friends, I do apply
For an answer to my cry.
Does not the wine taste awry?
I drink and drink, yet no ill effect
Happens that I can detect.
Sober as the day I was born,
I raise my tasteless glass, and mourn.

This castle seems to have done me in,
For it will not allow me a single sin
I know I shall be quite forlorn
If I am forced into celibacy in the morn.

[Geoff is sitting in the library, writing the above poem, and working on other writing. He’s a bit annoying, knocking his foot against the table, ripping up parchment and throwing it to the side, and muttering to himself. He’s also a tad grouchy today. He’s been drinking to control the withdrawal symptoms from not gambling. He has a glass of wine next to him that he keeps testing every few minutes, making faces whenever he does. ]

[ooc: Loss start! Open over journals or in person! As it says, he’s grouchy. You have been warned. Also, if I’ve dropped any convos by accident, give me a poke. I’ve been sick, and I think a few fell through the cracks.]

Comments

[common_name]

[It had only been idle curiosity, and her gaze doesn't linger long. By the time he glances back at her, she's already back to the shelf, trying to find what she came here for. But even if she doesn't directly react to it, she does feel it. It's the kind of glance she's more than used to following her around.]

[thetrudger]

[Geoff holds his leg away from the table. He realizes he must have been annoying. Still irritated, but intrigued by this woman, he tries to get her attention.]

Excuse me, madam. Am I bothering you?

[common_name]

[Attracting attention is about the last thing she wanted. (Really, it's about the last thing she ever wants.) Nevertheless, it's rude to ignore someone who's asking you a direct question. And she isn't rude.

So she will look over that way, her fingers still absently touching a book on the bookshelf.]

Not at all.

[thetrudger]

Then can I help you find something, maybe?

[common_name]

[... Although, of all things, that's fairly harmless. She tosses a glance at the shelf before directing it back toward the stranger.]

Any recommendations?

[thetrudger]

Hmmm...

[He stands up, walking over to her and rubbing his temple.]

Do you enjoy poetry?

[common_name]

[She takes a step to the side, allowing him some room to stand by the shelf.]

I've never read much of it.

[thetrudger]

Hmm. Have you read any by a man named Chaucer? I hear he's very good.

[common_name]

[To some people, that name might sound familiar, but to her, it doesn't really mean anything. She's not exactly one that'll pop up with readily-remembered knowledge from English class of days gone by. Who knows if she's even ever set foot in one.]

I can't say that I have.

[thetrudger]

[He smiles, as if he has some sort of inside joke.]

Perhaps you should give it a try. One should always try new things.

[common_name]

[One that she'd never have a hope of understanding. But, nevertheless, she'll give him a smile back; it's only polite to do so.]

Perhaps.

[thetrudger]

Enjoy your reading, then.

[He wanders back over to his table and sits back down, not bothering to get her name so he wouldn't have to reveal his own identity.]