"I wouldn't call him benevolent nor power-hungry. He's a thoughtlessly cruel creature that even others in the same vein dislike."
"He's not of this world, but he's made it his playground. And whatever else is out there, he'll stick his hand in the pot just to see what happens."
[ He had always had a particular fondness for his student's way with words and the ones she applied to him held a special place in his heart, wherever that may be. Whether he hovered around her or on the other side of the veil of his territory, her personal description of him never left his mind.
The man is fond of long walks. He called it 'walking' but a simple stroll could take him from one reality to the next before he returned to his origin where he felt most at home. Most worlds escape his notice, perhaps for the better. There is no need to put his hand in every pot though his urge to stir things up needlessly is always a given. And today, he's found such a place to at least poke a finger into.
It's difficult to not notice the man who is sitting on the side in the front lobby of the Federal Bureau of Control. If there was ever a walking representation of ostentatious, this would be it. The curtain of nearly vermillion red hair drapes across the seat and the man dressed in a black satiny robe is engrossed in in a book though he looks up every once and while surveying the area behind his golden lenses as if expecting someone, anyone to call him out. ]
[The Oldest House, as far as Jesse knows, does not let just anyone wander in without due cause. The only โpersonโ thatโs been known to move down any and every hall, room, or nook and cranny with enviable ease was Ahti, and his extended vacation was still on-going, no longer a presence in the Bureau. At least not physically.
And Jesse, despite her status as Director, was still not immune to the sfhiting and changing, the way the walls would close in, or how one door would lead to another room where it never did before. The Oldest House had its moods. It was easier to think about it that way, and thus easier to ignore the urge to fight it. She would go where it took her โ often, there was a reasoning to the madness.
Today, she steps into the lobby, dressed in an outfit dark and oddly geometric, as though she were just another part of the Houseโs aesthetic. In a way, it wasnโt so far from the truth.
Her steps echo on the cold marble flooring, spotting someone she does not recognize. The shock of red hair is impossible to miss, more vibrant than her own. And that book?
Well, it sure is a choice.]
Looks like a page-turner.
[She calls to earn his attention. Polaris shimmers at the edge of her consciousness, like a bird flitting.]
[ He looks up from his book to see who just called out to him... A redheaded woman.
Truly, he loves a good coincidence.
Blue earrings and the chain that hangs from his glasses glitter faintly in the dull light as the man angles his head at Jesse. He closes the book and places it in his lap as he turns his full attention to her. ]
It's quite the read! Highly recommended on my part. Don't let anyone tell you that it's pretentious though the title would certainly give you that impression.
[ The voice is friendly enough, a little deeper than expected. Though his demeanor is relaxed and welcoming, his eyes are dark, darker than the black of his suit and it gives the impression that it looks through the other person rather than at them. ]
And being able to read in such a pleasant house makes it that much more enriching. Do you have time to read books these days young lady? It becomes harder to do so as you grow older or so I've noticed unless you make it your occupation.
[She hitches her hands on her hips, tilting his head at the strange-looking man who sits there before her.]
Of course, most of it is paperwork and reports that just end up redacted anyway. But don't tell anyone I said that.
[She looks at him for a moment more, trying to parse his... everything. Jesse has been director of the Oldest House for long enough that she can tell when something's off. When something doesn't belong, or at least belongs in a capacity that's been bagged and tagged by their organization. This man doesn't quite apply.]
[He playfully pinches his fingers and swipes it over his lips in a zipping motion.]
Your secret's safe with me, young lady. As for my name? Hm...
[Mister... Mister what? Even he looks as if he's trying to decide on what to be called.]
Do you know what's peculiar? I've taken on names that were more like those, "Hello, My Name Is..." stickers in that I can fill in the blank but then it would be removed once it's served its purpose. Nothing ever sticks. Ah, I am known by a title but a title isn't necessarily a name, isn't it?
[His movement and gestures are like a human's, he's shaped like a human, and although he speaks lackadaisically, it would still be considered normal, if odd.
The redheaded man stands up, leaving the book in his seat. He's tall and his long hair drapes around him like a curtain.]
And a title only works if it's used in the place where one has received it from, don't you agree?
[Is he even going to give Jesse anything?]
How about you let me know what you're called first instead? Then I can make up my mind.
[Now, what kind of non-answer is that? Jesse just raises her brows as the man stands, offering her absolutely nothing in regard to answers.
She moves her arms to cross against her chest. Her hair... is redder than even hers. Long, flowing. It's impressive, and it seems to add to the feeling that this man isn't exactly normal.]
So you want an introduction. You can just say that much, you know.
[But she smiles, her grin lopsided. She holds out a hand.]
My name's Jesse Faden. I'm Director of this place. And... assistant janitor, too, but that's a long story.
[Strange, airy. It's fine, she's strange, too, but just in other ways. Now, she crosses her arms, looking at this man with growing skepticism. Is she supposed to take the title of Director and Janitor suiting her as a compliment?]
Hold on, hold on. Uh... maybe you don't understand how it works here, Steinbeck. Firstly: You don't have your own name? Usually that's what people introduce each other by. Some real spy nonsense vibes you're giving off, now.
[Steinbeck hums under his breath at Jesse's skepticism as if he thinks he provided a perfectly acceptable answer that shouldn't be questioned in the first place.]
Who am I? Director, I am a traveler. A tourist if you will. I have my own home so worry not, I have my own place to return to. One must maintain their household regularly.
But the Oldest House was such an exciting name.
[As if to emphasize, Steinbeck looks up at the ceiling, spins around, arms spread wide, embracing the oddity of everything.]
I wanted to take a look! Ah, but I've settled in the lobby to see if anyone would give me a tour. Normally I'd just lead myself around but I find that I am in want of some company. I hope that isn't too much of an ask, Director.
[Oh, so this guy's a dramatic one, she thinks, as he spreads his arms and gives himself a spin. Well, maybe he's in good company, but Jesse isn't one for dramatics -- not usually. She's just used to seeing weird and unusual things crop up in the Oldest House, though she supposes the last uninvited, unusual guest was... her, in what feels like an age ago.
She heaves a little sigh.]
I think you're missing what I'm getting at here.
[So she tries again.]
People don't just come in here and waltz around, asking for a tour. This place isn't open to the public. So what I'm really asking you is this, Mr. Steinbeck: why should I be compelled to really show you around?
[And, in a way that is less business than mercenary, more cautious than greedy:] What's in it for me? For the Oldest House itself?
[Ah, now that's a smart question, Jesse. When it comes to people, no, creatures, like him, if he's asking for something, it's best to take advantage and ask them for something in return before fulfilling his request.
Steinbeck puts one hand on his hip, thinking.]
Well, for one thing, I asked. [Kind of. Sort of. In a very roundabout way.]
But I concede. I should not be touring without paying a fee. So in that case Director, what is it you and the Oldest House would need the most?
[He holds up his hand to list off suggestions with his fingers.]
Fortifications? Additions? Connections? Subtractions? All very broad offers on my part yes, but you'll find that I'm very creative and generous.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
๐ฏ๐ฝ๐ ๐ข๐๐๐๐
"He's not of this world, but he's made it his playground. And whatever else is out there, he'll stick his hand in the pot just to see what happens."
[ He had always had a particular fondness for his student's way with words and the ones she applied to him held a special place in his heart, wherever that may be. Whether he hovered around her or on the other side of the veil of his territory, her personal description of him never left his mind.
The man is fond of long walks. He called it 'walking' but a simple stroll could take him from one reality to the next before he returned to his origin where he felt most at home. Most worlds escape his notice, perhaps for the better. There is no need to put his hand in every pot though his urge to stir things up needlessly is always a given. And today, he's found such a place to at least poke a finger into.
It's difficult to not notice the man who is sitting on the side in the front lobby of the Federal Bureau of Control. If there was ever a walking representation of ostentatious, this would be it. The curtain of nearly vermillion red hair drapes across the seat and the man dressed in a black satiny robe is engrossed in in a book though he looks up every once and while surveying the area behind his golden lenses as if expecting someone, anyone to call him out. ]
Mm.
[ Well, back to the book. ]
And I even knocked on the door this time.
no subject
And Jesse, despite her status as Director, was still not immune to the sfhiting and changing, the way the walls would close in, or how one door would lead to another room where it never did before. The Oldest House had its moods. It was easier to think about it that way, and thus easier to ignore the urge to fight it. She would go where it took her โ often, there was a reasoning to the madness.
Today, she steps into the lobby, dressed in an outfit dark and oddly geometric, as though she were just another part of the Houseโs aesthetic. In a way, it wasnโt so far from the truth.
Her steps echo on the cold marble flooring, spotting someone she does not recognize. The shock of red hair is impossible to miss, more vibrant than her own. And that book?
Well, it sure is a choice.]
Looks like a page-turner.
[She calls to earn his attention. Polaris shimmers at the edge of her consciousness, like a bird flitting.]
no subject
Truly, he loves a good coincidence.
Blue earrings and the chain that hangs from his glasses glitter faintly in the dull light as the man angles his head at Jesse. He closes the book and places it in his lap as he turns his full attention to her. ]
It's quite the read! Highly recommended on my part. Don't let anyone tell you that it's pretentious though the title would certainly give you that impression.
[ The voice is friendly enough, a little deeper than expected. Though his demeanor is relaxed and welcoming, his eyes are dark, darker than the black of his suit and it gives the impression that it looks through the other person rather than at them. ]
And being able to read in such a pleasant house makes it that much more enriching. Do you have time to read books these days young lady? It becomes harder to do so as you grow older or so I've noticed unless you make it your occupation.
no subject
[She hitches her hands on her hips, tilting his head at the strange-looking man who sits there before her.]
Of course, most of it is paperwork and reports that just end up redacted anyway. But don't tell anyone I said that.
[She looks at him for a moment more, trying to parse his... everything. Jesse has been director of the Oldest House for long enough that she can tell when something's off. When something doesn't belong, or at least belongs in a capacity that's been bagged and tagged by their organization. This man doesn't quite apply.]
Anyway, can I help you, Mister...?
no subject
Your secret's safe with me, young lady. As for my name? Hm...
[Mister... Mister what? Even he looks as if he's trying to decide on what to be called.]
Do you know what's peculiar? I've taken on names that were more like those, "Hello, My Name Is..." stickers in that I can fill in the blank but then it would be removed once it's served its purpose. Nothing ever sticks. Ah, I am known by a title but a title isn't necessarily a name, isn't it?
[His movement and gestures are like a human's, he's shaped like a human, and although he speaks lackadaisically, it would still be considered normal, if odd.
The redheaded man stands up, leaving the book in his seat. He's tall and his long hair drapes around him like a curtain.]
And a title only works if it's used in the place where one has received it from, don't you agree?
[Is he even going to give Jesse anything?]
How about you let me know what you're called first instead? Then I can make up my mind.
no subject
She moves her arms to cross against her chest. Her hair... is redder than even hers. Long, flowing. It's impressive, and it seems to add to the feeling that this man isn't exactly normal.]
So you want an introduction. You can just say that much, you know.
[But she smiles, her grin lopsided. She holds out a hand.]
My name's Jesse Faden. I'm Director of this place. And... assistant janitor, too, but that's a long story.
no subject
A pleasure, Director Jesse Faden! Or Assistant Janitor Jesse Faden. Hm, yes both suit you well. Remind me to ask you about the latter.
[He draws his hand back and sweeps one of his long crimson strands behind his ear.]
Now then! I think I've decided. I'll be borrowing a name as long as I'm here just to make it easier on the both of us.
[He puts a hand over his chest and gives a sweeping bow.]
For the time being, call me Steinbeck.
[Somewhere in a different reality, a high school teacher snaps her pencil.]
Director, would you kindly give me a tour of your home?
no subject
Hold on, hold on. Uh... maybe you don't understand how it works here, Steinbeck. Firstly: You don't have your own name? Usually that's what people introduce each other by. Some real spy nonsense vibes you're giving off, now.
Secondly, who are you, exactly?
no subject
Who am I? Director, I am a traveler. A tourist if you will. I have my own home so worry not, I have my own place to return to. One must maintain their household regularly.
But the Oldest House was such an exciting name.
[As if to emphasize, Steinbeck looks up at the ceiling, spins around, arms spread wide, embracing the oddity of everything.]
I wanted to take a look! Ah, but I've settled in the lobby to see if anyone would give me a tour. Normally I'd just lead myself around but I find that I am in want of some company. I hope that isn't too much of an ask, Director.
no subject
She heaves a little sigh.]
I think you're missing what I'm getting at here.
[So she tries again.]
People don't just come in here and waltz around, asking for a tour. This place isn't open to the public. So what I'm really asking you is this, Mr. Steinbeck: why should I be compelled to really show you around?
[And, in a way that is less business than mercenary, more cautious than greedy:] What's in it for me? For the Oldest House itself?
no subject
Steinbeck puts one hand on his hip, thinking.]
Well, for one thing, I asked. [Kind of. Sort of. In a very roundabout way.]
But I concede. I should not be touring without paying a fee. So in that case Director, what is it you and the Oldest House would need the most?
[He holds up his hand to list off suggestions with his fingers.]
Fortifications? Additions? Connections? Subtractions? All very broad offers on my part yes, but you'll find that I'm very creative and generous.