tampered | [Log status: Incomplete]

When; Morning-ish, May 8
Rating; PG tops
Characters; Nikolai Trofimov and Eve Brea
Summary; Meeting at tha library
Log;

It was quite a fancy library by the cities standard, seemingly left over from a more decorative age. The wide eyed blonde child; Eve, who had just managed to find her way in couldn’t help stare, starry eyed at all the books around her. Any thought of Melissa being upset fell to the floor.

Books. Lot’s of books Lots and lots of things she didn’t know, nor knew she hadn’t the faintest idea about. She felt the flicker of excitement, like the striking of a match; carry her legs to the nearest shelf. Haphazardly yanking several books from the middle shelf, causing another six to fall to the floor Eve looked at the piles, top title.

“ Childs… En-cy-clo-pedia.” She sounded out . Her smile widened; yes she liked those. Turning on her heel, forgetting to pick up the fallen volumes, eyes still glued to the various illustrations on the cover, Eve didn’t have the time to stop herself from bumping into a strange male figure

“Umph.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He'd wasted absolutely no time pinning down the 'essentials' of the City - the Opera, any and all cafes, and the library. His stomping grounds for the intellectual snobbery--err, elite--where he could hopefully find some kindred spirits. Sarah's discovery had been encouraging, but her admittance that the theater was unappreciated was decidedly not.

And so he'd sought out the place where humanity came to bury its ideas, and had quite lost himself in daydreaming when the young woman collided with him.

"Uhn! --Mind yourself," He started, before taking a closer look at her--and then the books behind her, "..Ah. You've dropped something."

Feeling a knot of tension form instinctively in her stomach Eve’s eyes fell to the unusual shadow belonging to the man who had just admonished her for being so clumsy. Anxiously, Eve forced herself to follow the shadows form with her eyes, raising her head painfully slowly, until her eyes met his feet, then torso, then finally locked into place with his.

“I didn’t mean to…” She gulped, speaking akin to the proverbial whipped puppy. She never was one for confrontation.

Kolya was pleased, despite himself. This was more like home, where people knew their place in regards to their leader, and his benevolence to them showed magnanimity, instead of the confused restraint of being lost in a new place. Either that, or she was nervous around everyone.

He smiled, and tried to make it look nonthreatening. He was rather aware that he'd need another dose of Zyprexa sooner or later. Likely sooner.

"Might I help?"

Eve let out a heavy sighed breath, unaware she’d been holding it since the sudden collision. She nodded, finally coming to from her frightened stupor. Although she could not remember a time when this had happened before, her mitochondria had many memories, many ways to guide her through the motions of dealing with a passive threat.

“Please..”

Eye’s flickering to the floor, Eve realized what the man had meant and without a moments hesitation she knelt down on her knees, trying to pile the books up into one stack.

The other man was not above helping someone in need, of course, and she seemed harmless enough, if a little skittish.

"There, then.."

He paused. There was a nuance of friendly conversation escaping him, he was sure of it. ...Oh, of course.

"And what is your name?"

“Eve.”

The youngster replied, now having picked up the books and piled them temporarily in the lower shelf. Fiddling with the bottom hem of her shirt, she tried not to commit to anything, too informative.

“Who are you?”

"Nikolai Trofimov." He added for good measure, "Lord Trofimov." Surely titles were impressive, particularly in such hallowed ground as a library...

He crouched to observe the books she had spilled, looking interested, and then carefully amused, "A child's encyclopedia? ..Well, I suppose we must all begin somewhere."

His name was strange; in the fact having more than two implied he was more than one person. Eve wondered whether to call him by the first name he’d stated or the second he’d divulged as he crouched down and made a comment about her book.

These books were her main source of the world around her, the only thing her memory replied on to piece things together. Eve nodded politely “Nikolai-Lord-Trofimov…What do you read?”

The dictator paused, not quite sure how to address that - the custom of naming seemed different across countries, even, so he could hardly expect a seamless translation across the border of worlds.

"Nikolai will do," He corrected carefully, "And many things.. historical accounts, autobiographies, plays... a well rounded education is its own reward."

He paused, an errant thought flitting through his mind, "Do you--have family here?"

Nodding in agreement with ‘Nickolai’ she committed the name to memory. It seemed strange, a name she had not yet heard of, but it had a certain mystery about it. A charm by many stretches of the imagination.

“Nikolai…” she began as if leading up to an uncertain question. Having no real frame of reference, once again, Eve was unable to fix the word with its proper subject matter.

“What’s an autobiography?”

[Log status: Incomplete]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject