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duke-of-albany.livejournal.com
[thelongnow_rpg]
16 July 2010 @ 01:05 am
001 - text and drawing  
Although I am loathe to mar a book not my own, it seems I have little other recourse. I cannot carry these in my head any longer.

[Several detailed sketches follow: a bridge support, a complicated pulley, and what appears to be some type of lever.]

I have not found any books to read in this room, and, despite being bored out of my wits, I am loathe to venture out from what seems to be a rather secure position although the door appears unlocked. If I am left to my own devices for much longer, however, I will take my chances with what lies outside. My mind rebels at stagnation.

My own journal was in my carpet bag, which I assume was left behind by whoever transported me here, so I shall use this one as a means of marshalling my thoughts in this unexpected and frankly terrifying situation. That a gentleman should be terrified by an antiquely furnished room is a laughable prospect indeed, but it is not so much the circumstances I find myself in that frighten me but the circumstances under which I came to be here. They frighten me because I remember nothing about them, and no one has yet arrived to tell me the least detail.

OOC: He wrote this before Norrington came in, I suppose.
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[identity profile] spooktea.livejournal.com on July 16th, 2010 08:49 pm (UTC)
[written]
It's alright to be scared. I'm sure most of us were. Popping up unexpectedly in a rather odd place can be unsettling. I think it's safe to venture out as I've done and nothing bad has happened to me yet.

Oh, I'm Annie, by the way. What's your name?
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[identity profile] duke-of-albany.livejournal.com on July 19th, 2010 04:31 am (UTC)
As I do not believe in magic or supernatural influence over the physical world, I am at a loss to explain how writing not my own has appeared in a book which has not been out if my sight. I think it unwise to form a conjecture ὑπόθεσις in my current mental state. That I cannot remember the word in English is further proof of my inability to think rationally. In my wildest nightmares I might imagine myself completely deranged and these words a product of a mind fragmented by agita; that is to say, that I have written these words as a pretense and then forgotten the act in some attempt to comfort myself.

[There follow several lines written and then irradiated afterwards by ink scrawled over them and scoring on the paper itself. The following lines are slightly uneven, as though written by a quill that had been previously in]

I prefer to believe myself not quite so mad as that, so I will say that it is strange to me to make a lady's acquaintance on paper, but that peculiarity does not justify rudeness. My name is Leopold, and this would be an acquaintance I should be happier to make another way. My circumstances are now, however, regrettably out of my control. May I inquire, madam, how you came to be here yourself, and how it is that you have come to write in this book?

Your humble servant,

Leopold, Duke of Albany

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[identity profile] spooktea.livejournal.com on July 20th, 2010 01:12 am (UTC)
Um. Okay. I take it you're from a long, long time ago. What year was it where you came from?

I know you said you don't believe in magic but that's the only way I can think to explain this bit. These books are magically linked to everyone in this hotel and we can all communicate through them. You can even talk into them and hear each other's voices, though I figured you'd be less startled by me writing instead.

As for the part where we're all stuck here, I'm not sure. Everyone just appeared here with no knowledge of our kidnapper.

And it's nice to meet you, Leopold. I'm Annie!
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