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Cyril Darkcloud · 02-19-2007, 03:29 PM

Locke Manor – The Guest Wing

A visitor called Joseph

He is pleased that this is no mere bumbling younger brother with whom he speaks. These Lockes, the two of them, are neither rash nor imprudent in their dealings. He would call neither of them a ‘man of reason’ according to the traditional definition of scholars, but both of them are reasonable men – even more, they are men who seek to be reasonable. One can respect such men. Indeed, one tends to know precisely where he stands with men such as these. Knowing where one stands, now that is a curious turn of phrase, and one strangely pertinent at present where it would seem that none but he, the outsider and alien, is truly aware of the landscape they now occupy. This is, of course, the classic failing of reasonable men – without one to reorient them at moments like these, the very reason they seek to follow leads them swiftly astray and leaves them groping for answers and solutions where there are none to be found. Foolish moral scruples aside, allowing that to happen to these men who have so generously seen to his needs would not simply be ungracious, it would be the very height of what it is to be rude. He has been many things to many people and has managed to give the pretense of being many other things, so many that it is no longer entirely clear even within himself where the seeming ends and the reality begins, but he has not been, nor does he plan on being, a guest that is rude – visits to the towers of certain bellicose and powerful users of what the locals of this IronWorks place call “shadow magic” excepted, of course.

“I am here,” he says simply, “because I was in need of a comfortable bed in a place where I might be free to rest and because I wagered the educated guess that within the walls of this house I might find a host who understood the meaning of hospitality ...... at least, that was the proximate cause of my unannounced and admittedly presumptuous arrival here.” He smiles and his grin elicits a similar response from his host as he continues. “On a more serious note, however, your brother has recounted to me the tale that my young companion had given him the night of our arrival and it is a tale, that, like many falsehoods, carries some truth in those places where it seems most fantastic.” His speech is by turns eloquent, humorous, reflective and engaging, and at every point convincing. The picture he paints for his hearer, while little more than a sketch of how he has arrived in this strange land of IronWorks and the events that followed, is vivid and compelling. His gestures flow in graceful company with his words and even the inflections of his voice fit neatly into the pattern of his words and gestures. Storytelling in many ways is the very essence of his art and he has long progressed beyond the point where magical aid is necessary for him to spin a tale that is at one and the same time vivid, convincing and captivating. He is in no hurry, pausing at the proper points to allow natural opportunities for the younger Locke to respond – more pauses than were required in speaking with his brother. A movement of gratitude stirs within him. To simply speak and weave a tale for one who listens with such ready attentiveness is a great relief from the exhaustion that still lingers about his limbs. No, he is in no hurry, for the art of the telling is often greater than the substance of the tale and a more stimulating thing – as is the case here.

It requires but little effort as he speaks to incorporate the gestures of a simple seeming into his movements. So naturally does he do this that the casting of the seeming is of a piece with his telling of the tale. It is a simple enchantment – the only kind he is truly capable of effecting in his present condition – and its very simplicity is what makes it so effective in a situation such as this where his natural gifts have already brought his dialogue partner to a point of companionable trust. His tale has been fantastic, but reasonably so in its understated details and it would be a simple matter to leave things here. But that would be unfair to his hosts. And truth be told, there is greater enjoyment, as well as greater art, to be had in opening the eyes of men such as this to the failings of their ready manner of perceiving the world about them. And so it is that while Simon speaks warmly to the one who sits beside him and who has spoken so long and so openly and so well, that he rises from his chair and moves to the other side of the room, allowing the seeming of himself to converse with his host a few minutes more before quietly stepping forward and saying, “But there is, of course, much more to all of this than which readily meets the eye. Or the ear for that matter.”

Even as he stands, leaning easily against the wall of the room – an ease which serves to conceal the exhaustion of a body which cannot yet stand for long without support – his semblance concludes its converse with Simon by standing, placing a hand upon his shoulder – the grip is very tangible and very firm – and stating, “But that is all I have to say for now.” With these words the seeming simply flows out of the range of sight and sound and touch and the Locke’s visitor walks across the room and once more sits in the chair.

“Now,” he speaks in a tone and a manner very different from his previous bearing and yet equally natural, “the first rule in my line of work is not to let on to anyone what I’m really able to do. But rules, like they say, are made for breaking and I like you guys. Now, that you know how careful you’ve gotta be if you’re gonna learn anything from me, let me see if I can answer your most important questions. Don’t worry about the kid. He’s good and gone. And if what I was helping the kid get away from is really on its way here to find me, there ain’t a damn thing you or anyone else here can do ...... except maybe pray.”

[ 02-19-2007, 09:42 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

02-19-2007, 03:29 PM	#27
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	Locke Manor – The Guest Wing A visitor called Joseph He is pleased that this is no mere bumbling younger brother with whom he speaks. These Lockes, the two of them, are neither rash nor imprudent in their dealings. He would call neither of them a ‘man of reason’ according to the traditional definition of scholars, but both of them are reasonable men – even more, they are men who seek to be reasonable. One can respect such men. Indeed, one tends to know precisely where he stands with men such as these. Knowing where one stands, now that is a curious turn of phrase, and one strangely pertinent at present where it would seem that none but he, the outsider and alien, is truly aware of the landscape they now occupy. This is, of course, the classic failing of reasonable men – without one to reorient them at moments like these, the very reason they seek to follow leads them swiftly astray and leaves them groping for answers and solutions where there are none to be found. Foolish moral scruples aside, allowing that to happen to these men who have so generously seen to his needs would not simply be ungracious, it would be the very height of what it is to be rude. He has been many things to many people and has managed to give the pretense of being many other things, so many that it is no longer entirely clear even within himself where the seeming ends and the reality begins, but he has not been, nor does he plan on being, a guest that is rude – visits to the towers of certain bellicose and powerful users of what the locals of this IronWorks place call “shadow magic” excepted, of course. “I am here,” he says simply, “because I was in need of a comfortable bed in a place where I might be free to rest and because I wagered the educated guess that within the walls of this house I might find a host who understood the meaning of hospitality ...... at least, that was the proximate cause of my unannounced and admittedly presumptuous arrival here.” He smiles and his grin elicits a similar response from his host as he continues. “On a more serious note, however, your brother has recounted to me the tale that my young companion had given him the night of our arrival and it is a tale, that, like many falsehoods, carries some truth in those places where it seems most fantastic.” His speech is by turns eloquent, humorous, reflective and engaging, and at every point convincing. The picture he paints for his hearer, while little more than a sketch of how he has arrived in this strange land of IronWorks and the events that followed, is vivid and compelling. His gestures flow in graceful company with his words and even the inflections of his voice fit neatly into the pattern of his words and gestures. Storytelling in many ways is the very essence of his art and he has long progressed beyond the point where magical aid is necessary for him to spin a tale that is at one and the same time vivid, convincing and captivating. He is in no hurry, pausing at the proper points to allow natural opportunities for the younger Locke to respond – more pauses than were required in speaking with his brother. A movement of gratitude stirs within him. To simply speak and weave a tale for one who listens with such ready attentiveness is a great relief from the exhaustion that still lingers about his limbs. No, he is in no hurry, for the art of the telling is often greater than the substance of the tale and a more stimulating thing – as is the case here. It requires but little effort as he speaks to incorporate the gestures of a simple seeming into his movements. So naturally does he do this that the casting of the seeming is of a piece with his telling of the tale. It is a simple enchantment – the only kind he is truly capable of effecting in his present condition – and its very simplicity is what makes it so effective in a situation such as this where his natural gifts have already brought his dialogue partner to a point of companionable trust. His tale has been fantastic, but reasonably so in its understated details and it would be a simple matter to leave things here. But that would be unfair to his hosts. And truth be told, there is greater enjoyment, as well as greater art, to be had in opening the eyes of men such as this to the failings of their ready manner of perceiving the world about them. And so it is that while Simon speaks warmly to the one who sits beside him and who has spoken so long and so openly and so well, that he rises from his chair and moves to the other side of the room, allowing the seeming of himself to converse with his host a few minutes more before quietly stepping forward and saying, “But there is, of course, much more to all of this than which readily meets the eye. Or the ear for that matter.” Even as he stands, leaning easily against the wall of the room – an ease which serves to conceal the exhaustion of a body which cannot yet stand for long without support – his semblance concludes its converse with Simon by standing, placing a hand upon his shoulder – the grip is very tangible and very firm – and stating, “But that is all I have to say for now.” With these words the seeming simply flows out of the range of sight and sound and touch and the Locke’s visitor walks across the room and once more sits in the chair. “Now,” he speaks in a tone and a manner very different from his previous bearing and yet equally natural, “the first rule in my line of work is not to let on to anyone what I’m really able to do. But rules, like they say, are made for breaking and I like you guys. Now, that you know how careful you’ve gotta be if you’re gonna learn anything from me, let me see if I can answer your most important questions. Don’t worry about the kid. He’s good and gone. And if what I was helping the kid get away from is really on its way here to find me, there ain’t a damn thing you or anyone else here can do ...... except maybe pray.” [ 02-19-2007, 09:42 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]