Fantasy The city on which the sun never rises

Hekazu

Menagerie Warden
Nov 11, 2020
0
Level
1
Awards
12
Supposedly Karlin was willing to let go of the idea of reading and writing. Because others were content in illiteracy, she would be as well. Now, that wasn't something John would let stand in the long run. "then it will be prioritised accordingly", John stated, not quite indifferently but hardly putting too much pressure on his words. If it was up to him however, this woman would know to read. Not as the first, second or even the third thing, but in time she could hold a book in her hands and wonder just why she had thought never delving into them was such a good idea.

And of course, when it came to the several locales John had spoken of, she appeared to be quite as clueless about the surroundings as he had believed. He nodded along, nothing of this surprising him. The only thing interrupting the acknowledgement was another of its kind, a brief smile flashed towards the maid who had put an end to one quite inelegant display that had been going on before his face, or at least mitigating the aftermath of it. It was one thing to eat fruit with one's hands, but another to ignore the numerous utensils provided as a whole. John could only hope she wouldn't follow suit with the next course, lest he suffer of further loss of sanity than what London's new locale had already inflicted upon him. And for it to be here, in the waking world, that he was outdone… a surprise to be sure, and rather unwelcome.

"There will be a day when you wonder why you ever feared the locale, should you have the ambition", John remarked rather casually about her fear of the Court, knowing wholly how the place was filled with talentless hacks attempting, for naught, to outdo the several far more talented folks. But not all were worthy of the title of the Poet-Laureate, whether the palace was filled with self-proclaimed future carriers of the title or not. Or perhaps he was simply so shameless that he feared not repercussions that would befall him time and time again for his art? That he certainly had none of, such shame.

Past her fixation on John's unintended wordplay, Karlin appeared to procure her first surprise for the day. And it certainly was a surprise alright. A landscape painting, but not just any landscape. Something a person like her should have had no business in seeing at all. And when came the explanation, John couldn't help but raise one hand to his chin, his forefinger running back and forth over the slowly forming stubble left from the night spent on the move. A paper was slid on over to him, but John dismissed it with a flick of his wrist, intending to say everything he had to say about the subject out loud. John sought to pick the piece up in his own hands, a closer observation was in order.

The bird, he could make out the important details of the shape. The serpents? They could only be one thing. And what had the Gentleman told him when they had spoken on the Mirror-Marshes? Artists were chosen, visions granted, lack of talent supplemented by something that could come from beyond the glass. Here, perhaps, he was looking at the next carrier of the Oneiric Key. There were certain risks to this approach, of course. "You could benefit from better tools", John noted, "which is not something I say lightly. For quite a while, tools are not the limitation of the maker. Most starving artists need not all they have. But you could use something that you for now lack." He wasn't sure which atelier exactly should he borrow from.

"I am interested in this whole dreaming story, but I believe that is something more appropriate for when we do not bother the Archbishop of Canterbury herself with the meaningless drivel regarding muses between artists", he smiled a friendly smile, perhaps with a few qualities of a smirk, and offered the painting back to Karlin. It wasn't long before he had returned to eating. Between small spoonfuls, kept so so that they would not interrupt conversation, John offered a few more thoughts of his own. "It is strange that you should see dreams of jungles. They say that dreaming of places you've never been to would be difficult to make accurate. But you have painted a real jungle, Karlin. Like you had visited the Elder Continent itself. Spare for the overabundance of serpents, of course."

It wasn't long at all since then that the small bowls were expected to be emptied, and the next course of eggs, bacon, mushrooms and even some quite firm sausages were brought to them, all fried in more than adequate amount of grease. John was not a second late for the transition between them, and only needed a sip of water before picking up his knife and fork and cutting away the first piece of the complementary sausage. They were starting to be halfway through the meal. John had to wonder how long Nero truly had reserved for this morning. She would have to leave the company of her all but confirmed sister soon enough, and John wanted to see just how long she was willing to keep this charade up. And how long it'd take for Karlin to admit it afterwards.