kingdomdressing | "It may be that their pretense is not for our benefit, but for their own"

[ So guys. It's been a while since anyone's heard from one resident scientist in particular, and as great minds think alike, like his feminine counterpart, the masculine is out and about, though the purpose of this trip seems entirely to be of a pleasurable nature, meant to relax his weary soul, stretched thin by the devices of his own over-active mind.

He's actually been quite busy, working like mad on getting that laboratory of his established. Considering he worked himself for days straight with three hours of sleep total, it can easily be said that Vexen is rather used to working himself to his very limits for the sake of his work. And after promptly sleeping for a good ten straight hours when he finally allowed himself, he decided a break was necessary for his health. No use working himself to death before even getting to see the fruits of his labors.

So after enjoying a cup of tea in a quiet little café somewhere in the Enchanted Dominion, Vexen decided to exercise a different part of his brain, a part seldom used since Even gave way to Vexen. Which part? The right side, the more creatively oriented half of the brain. And how was he doing this? Simple. He'd found and tuned an older baby grand piano, and was sitting at it now among a few dusty tomes in a forgotten archive of books, playing a quiet melody.

Though long and nimble fingers danced along the keys with a grace few would ever expect from a man as frigid and unforgiving as winter, to look at his face, one would think him merely reading an encyclopedia. Truly, he felt nothing while playing, but the memories of emotions that, once upon a time, these simple chords incited was enough. The memories forged in days long past, the ghosts of solace and peace within those few souls whom ever had the privilege to actually hear the Academic enjoy anything but the sciences, rejuvenated his old soul. And so he deigned indulge, enjoying a moment wherein he assumed he was entirely alone. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's the music that catches the attention of this resident scientist. His own life has been far too hectic for his own tastes later and even if he doesn't intend to stay long he figures he might as well stop and listen - even if he can pick up on that lack of a heart there.

He'll wait for the song to end to actually speak.]

[ Even in the silence, Vexen was alerted to the presence of another when a pressing warmth, the familiar stifling sensation that accompanied the presence of light entered the room.

He didn't look up, he didn't particularly care to know who it was or where in the room they were. A quick sneer flickered across his features, and for a moment, the notes lacked the fluid and seamless transition of before. He was waiting for commentary, the usual cacophony of taunts and sharp remarks, but when none came after a minute or two, his guard lowered enough to finish. He might not have been quite at ease as before, but it would satisfy his perfectionist habits.

He rose, tucking a book under his arm while letting his gaze sweep the room. ]

[What he'll find is a man who could easily be mistaken for him, apart from that whole having a heart business. A face out of his past, and Even is so far reserving (too much) judgment on what could have been his future.]

My apologies if I've disturbed you.

[ There was a moment's pause as he stood, staring his past in the face. Given the nature of the nexus, he knew it was a matter of time and took the encounter in stride.

Better it be an alternate manifestation of his past than anyone else, and the fact that it was simply Even saw that his defenses ebbed. The future was not a pleasant thing in his universe for Even, but he would act as though he was not left an embittered shell. ] Think nothing of it.

The building obviously isn't mine, but given the state of dis-repair, I've been helping myself to the literature. You're welcome to what you find, but I suggest returning it.

[To be honest, things aren't all that pleasant in Even's current timeline. But he can manage politeness. Better this then having to deal with worse things.]

I believe I should have enough to keep myself busy for the time being, given that I've found my own time occupied all too often of late. But I'll keep it in mind should I require more.

A moment's rest is a rare thing, considering the nature of our business. [ Assuming Even was still with Ansem The Wise, but without knowing for sure, he left if vague enough. ] But work would surely never get done considering the procrastinating habits of some guards.

Good. I had better be on my way; I've work to tend to, myself. [ Vexen really didn't know what to say to himself--he had prepared for it, yes, but that was assuming their first encounter was during a moment wherein he wasn't quite so vulnerable as he was now. The only thing he really knew how to do was depart, but better he depart on a note that was polite. Or at least, something he considered to be polite. ]

They don't get much better, I'm afraid. [There's a reason he's resigned himself to being on semi-permanent Braig watch.]

Ah, I won't keep you from it then. Few things are willing to wait as long as one might like.

[Forgotten archives? Practically a natural habitat for this man, ~~though he likely laments the lack of cliché ancient death traps~~ though he'd not really expected background music to the endeavour.

Grimmoire won't approach immediately, he'll scout the perimeter first before he gets anywhere near the source.

Given a familiar face (regardless of the identity attached or whether they are familiar with him) he sees no need to go waving his gun around right off the bat ~~and without Braig around no need to tease Even-shaped-people... at least unnecessarily.~~ so he waits.

When the song ends there'll be some slow (but not meant sarcastically) applause.]

[ There's a source of light, a disturbance that stole through the shadows of this place, trying to hide from him. For what purpose, Vexen wasn't yet aware, but he was aware of the presence, for aged though he may be, a Nobody's senses are sharp.

His fingers became stiff, losing the ambiance as the pressure he put on the keys weren't as effortlessly pleasant and soft as they were before. In the silence, though, attentive as ever to the light, he continued through to the end. With the applause, though the movement of closing the lid over the keys was slow and careful, they were still rigid. This was not something he shared, and the applaud was easily seen as a taunt. Thus when he rose, a book tucked under his arm, he glared with winter's might at the bystander.

Oh but it was Grimmoir. The ice melted a bit, but he was still clearly rigid. Luckily for Grimmoir, Vexen was used to Braig's habits, and well aware that the Sharpshooter knew his worth enough to smooth things over after pushing all his buttons. ] Grimmoire. It's been a while.

Edited 2011-07-12 08:27 (UTC)

[He can't help looking a little smug at expected reactions unfortunately. Though admittedly that's more because most familiar faces so far were not actually familiar (usually in that they'd never encountered a version of him.)]

Not as long for me as I'm guessing it's been for you.

[ooc:though, he is a rather weak muse so tags may be a bit slow or short.]

"It may be that their pretense is not for our benefit, but for their own"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

This is the most awkward conversation that has ever taken place.

But so wonderful :D

holy hell this is a terrible idea

... >: But a lulzy one. Also I am letting Vexen run with your headcanon. This is okay? [y/n]

it's cool, it helps round out parts I didn't think to think about with this crack