William Blake is among my favorites, but I have a number of books of sonnets and somber works done by a number of poets. Edgar Allan Poe is one I enjoy, as well as Dante Alighieri.
[ he's going to reach up onto one of the shelves, considering her words about 'adventure and non-fiction. Parsing over the titles, one by one. ]
Most of my books are, admittedly, in Italian and German, but.
I have a few you may enjoy that are in English. ...I will allow you to borrow any, anytime you wish.
[ and from the shelf he'll pluck a old, somewhat tired looking leather book. It's got a gold plated title, and is worn with age. The pages inside are soft, yellowed--a tome that's been well loved for years. ]
Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Isle. A story of pirates and treasure.
My brother, and myself, in actuality. Dante Alighieri himself wrote a book called Dante's Inferno, describing the intricacies of Hell. Perhaps my mother enjoyed the story--or thought she was being funny, given our father was a Devil. The main characters in the tale are named Dante and Vergil, after all.
[ but he waves his hand. ]
Yes. It is an antique. But I trust you to take care of it.
[Eve doesn't know how literal Vergil is being about his father. Though after seeing that blue demon he summoned, she might have a guess. But the story, Dante's Inferno, feels significant. To be named after a book... (Eve doesn't realize she too has a literary reference for a name. Not yet, at least.)]
[Then her thoughts on the subject screech to a halt.]
You want me to take care of it?
[She will, of course, but why? It takes her a moment to catch up, to put the obvious clues in place. Could it be? No way...]
[ the shortest, simplest answer might be for the best. But... he could elaborate, he supposes. ]
When I was your age. An old man who owned a used book store gave me a book that is still special to me, to this very day. It was a copy of William Blake's poetry--one of my favorite poets, back then.
The gift was something precious to me. ...It still is.
Knowing how it made me feel back then...
[ he gestures. losing steam as he... slips off the short end of whatever emotion he was trying to show there. Oops. He's still as awkward as ever. ]
[Eve wasn't sure what she was expecting as an answer. She certainly hadn't come here expecting to receive a book, let alone a sentimental one. Yet here she is. Stunned and not quite sure what to do.]
[How is one supposed to feel about such a grand gesture? How do you properly convey gratitude at this scale?]
[It is perhaps a blessing that Vergil goes on beyond the one line answer. Gives her more context and a chance to actually process what is happening.]
...You wanted to do the same.
[She finishes his dropped thread, piecing the clues together. A precious gift...]
[Eve might not be great at emotional expression, but she thinks she knows what to say at least.]
[ he confirms the word with a soft and gentle nod--Eve having picked up the clues as they were given. He's a little pleased his message wasn't misconstrued, that she'd understood.
Lifting up from where he'd been a little crouched to give it to her. Straightening up and moving to cross the room again, to sit at his desk.
He places her gift inside a little container on his desk--a cup laden with gemstones, some old artifact he'd refurbished into a penholder of sorts. Hers is one of the only three inside it, now. ]
I trust you to do it very well.
Just one book to start your collection. But everyone starts somewhere.
no subject
Edgar Allan Poe is one I enjoy, as well as Dante Alighieri.
[ he's going to reach up onto one of the shelves, considering her words about 'adventure and non-fiction. Parsing over the titles, one by one. ]
Most of my books are, admittedly, in Italian and German, but.
I have a few you may enjoy that are in English.
...I will allow you to borrow any, anytime you wish.
[ and from the shelf he'll pluck a old, somewhat tired looking leather book. It's got a gold plated title, and is worn with age. The pages inside are soft, yellowed--a tome that's been well loved for years. ]
Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Isle. A story of pirates and treasure.
One of my favorites, as a teen.
no subject
Your brother was named after a poet?
[As he has guessed, Eve hasn't learned any other languages. That she has such a good grasp on the one is impressive enough, all things considered.]
Really?? [Oh, wow. That's such an honor bestowed upon her.] A private library...
[She's gonna borrow so many books.]
[Oh, are they talking favorite stories? She loves talking about those. Eve watches the book selection with rapt interest.]
It looks like it's seen many years. Is it an antique?
no subject
Perhaps my mother enjoyed the story--or thought she was being funny, given our father was a Devil.
The main characters in the tale are named Dante and Vergil, after all.
[ but he waves his hand. ]
Yes. It is an antique. But I trust you to take care of it.
no subject
[Eve doesn't know how literal Vergil is being about his father. Though after seeing that blue demon he summoned, she might have a guess. But the story, Dante's Inferno, feels significant. To be named after a book... (Eve doesn't realize she too has a literary reference for a name. Not yet, at least.)]
[Then her thoughts on the subject screech to a halt.]
You want me to take care of it?
[She will, of course, but why? It takes her a moment to catch up, to put the obvious clues in place. Could it be? No way...]
Are you... giving this to me?
no subject
[ the shortest, simplest answer might be for the best. But... he could elaborate, he supposes. ]
When I was your age. An old man who owned a used book store gave me a book that is still special to me, to this very day. It was a copy of William Blake's poetry--one of my favorite poets, back then.
The gift was something precious to me. ...It still is.
Knowing how it made me feel back then...
[ he gestures. losing steam as he... slips off the short end of whatever emotion he was trying to show there. Oops. He's still as awkward as ever. ]
no subject
[Eve wasn't sure what she was expecting as an answer. She certainly hadn't come here expecting to receive a book, let alone a sentimental one. Yet here she is. Stunned and not quite sure what to do.]
[How is one supposed to feel about such a grand gesture? How do you properly convey gratitude at this scale?]
[It is perhaps a blessing that Vergil goes on beyond the one line answer. Gives her more context and a chance to actually process what is happening.]
...You wanted to do the same.
[She finishes his dropped thread, piecing the clues together. A precious gift...]
[Eve might not be great at emotional expression, but she thinks she knows what to say at least.]
Thank you.
I will take good care of it.
no subject
[ he confirms the word with a soft and gentle nod--Eve having picked up the clues as they were given. He's a little pleased his message wasn't misconstrued, that she'd understood.
Lifting up from where he'd been a little crouched to give it to her. Straightening up and moving to cross the room again, to sit at his desk.
He places her gift inside a little container on his desk--a cup laden with gemstones, some old artifact he'd refurbished into a penholder of sorts. Hers is one of the only three inside it, now. ]
I trust you to do it very well.
Just one book to start your collection.
But everyone starts somewhere.