The Page Master

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 18:32:57, as written by Guest

I think in colors.

Hope stood a bit nervously at the doorway to Gambits, her eyes wide as they fixed on the reinforced framework that looked like it had seen some obvious damage in its time. Her hand extended, deft fingers twitching nervously towards her palm as she hesitated, her lips pursed, brows furrowed as the anxiety swept through her in a potent wave. She’d never been here before, and had come by herself on recommendation from a friend. While her friend had not instructed that she come alone, Hope had done so regardless, because she was a brave girl.

I think in sounds.

She gripped the doorhandle and stepped inside the bar, looking around the quiet establishment as the smell of beer and cigarette smoke met her nose. Wrinkling it in disgust, she gripped her messenger bag a bit more tightly, her opposite hand resting on the pocket of her jeans, around her cell phone. She decided to pick a seat at a booth, since her homework required much table-space. So, she settled herself in the nearest booth, opening up her bag and pulling out a single, gilded pen and a piece of paper.

Her hand glided across the page, a single sentence filling the top line and then, out of nowhere, a small stack of textbooks appeared for her usage. She smiled.

What I think, I write. What I write becomes reality.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 18:46:43, as written by Guest

She was so wrapped up in her homework that she didn’t see the new guy walking into the bar, passing directly by her table and walking to the bar counter. Her head was over her paper, the gilded pen having been put away, with an old one in its place. She had her textbook beneath her left hand, fingers splayed across the page to trace the lines she was reading, occasionally taking notes beyond bullet points as her eyes flicked from the text to what she was writing.

The whole while her lips were pursed, tongue poking out slightly, a smile in her eyes as she took a deep breath and began a new line of script.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 19:00:53, as written by Guest

She didn’t notice that he’d appeared next to her table until he actually spoke, making her jump so badly that her pen tore a hole in the paper she was writing on. She angled her face upward, blue eyes meeting his hazel hues as her lips parted in surprise. What had he said? Something about question twelve? Her brow quirked as she silently turned to look back down at the problem, her fingertip running over the equation as she messed with the numbers a minute.

After a couple tweaks, she re-did the answer and slid it over to him, pointing to the new answer as she read his face for some kind of clue. What an interesting figure. He was certainly handsome, but Hope wasn’t one to fall for a pretty face. She was a cautious character, to be sure, and in a place like this, it was probably the wise way to go about things.

She remained quiet, her lips closed as she waited.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 19:11:09, as written by Guest

The woman gazed at him with unguarded wonder, her head tilting curiously to the side as he leaned over her homework and quietly explained…what? She wasn’t sure. His words were eloquent, the tone of his voice smooth and enticing. She liked listening to him, even if the fact that he could speak sparked just a little bit of jealousy in her.

When he offered his hand, she lifted her own and shook it firmly, a sheepish smile forming on her lips before she mouthed, ‘Hope’. No sound came out, only the breathy exhale that usually accompanied her efforts to speak. As usual, however, she was silent.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 19:23:10, as written by Guest

She thought about flailing her arms, really she did, but instead she just smiled at him, turning to her backpack and withdrawing a piece of paper before setting it down on the table between them. Then, with her old pen that she was doing homework in, she wrote on the top of the page, ‘Hope.’

Glancing to his face, she sat back, smiling at him and offering a little shrug. If he didn’t understand sign, then there wasn’t much more she could do other than write. Too bad. He was pretty cute. She thought she might really like to get to know him better. Unfortunately for her, people frequently became frustrated because they couldn’t understand her. Not that she didn’t get why.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 19:36:25, as written by Guest

She watched him, her brow furrowing curiously as he came to the end of his rather long-winded explanation and complement. When he mentioned the bit about his name, she was shaking her head, bending to quickly write ‘I think it’s regal.’

The idea of writing down all of her thoughts frustrated her, but she couldn’t expect the world to cater to her specific needs. She needed to be more prepared. She needed…

Oh!

With a sudden smile, she turned and rummaged in her bag for that gilded pen, then took the sheet of paper and set the tip to the surface, pausing a moment as she closed her eyes and pondered. Words flowed from the sheet, a line of quoted text.

Then, she opened her mouth and spoke. “Desmond always reminded me of the dark, mysterious characters in storybooks.” She paused, wrote more. “Not the villains, but the characters who invited readers to want to know the person more.” She watched him, eyes rounded as she waited in anticipation for his reaction. It would seem that writing her words down on paper, with that pen, allowed her to speak them.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 19:51:27, as written by Guest

She shrugged shyly, setting her other pen down and gazing at him with a quiet, contemplative look on her face. She felt strange writing to talk, which was the main reason why she paused in doing so, but there was something else too, something that unsettled her about the way the man was looking at her now. She sat back, pulling her legs up and folding them beneath her before glancing around to her textbooks. So much homework.

She picked up the pen and scribbled something on the paper. “Tell me about yourself then.” She spoke, glancing to him and then back down to the pen.

# Gambit's Bar, 2011-10-11 20:04:11, as written by Guest

She wrote as she spoke. "I'm mute. Have been since birth. I want to join the Wing City Police Department after I graduate, and I like writing." She bit her lip, holding the pen in her hands as she met his eyes. Interesting indeed. The man intrigued her, but there were a handful of things about him that she couldn't place which bothered him.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:24:53, as written by FizzGig

The soft, sweet sound of piano music echoed around the ancient room, coming from the compact speakers of Hope's music player. After gaining permission from one of the elder monks that ran the monastery, she'd made a make-shift living room out of the old, dusty couches, with candles lit and dozens of books scattered around her.

She was comfortable here, in the company of ancient words, with the smell of old ink and aged pages there to relax her. Biting on her lower lip, her fingertips traced the ancient pictures in the text she was reading. She seemed completely absorbed, lost in her own world.

A soft smile quirked her lips.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:30:19, as written by FizzGig

There was the squeaking of couch cushions, and a slight, sharp cry as one of the larger piles collapsed, sending up a thick cloud of dust.

Coughing and sneezing, Hope clambered her way out of the pile, looking up at Createx with a sheepish, embarrassed smile on her face. She waved at him, then shifted so she could cough into her hand.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:36:57, as written by FizzGig

The girl bit her lip, then made a wild gesture to all the books around her. "I have them." she said softly, pushing a pile towards him before extricating herself from the mess. Dusting off her skirt, she crossed her arms over her chest and met his eyes with a shy look of her own.

"Sorry."

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:41:55, as written by FizzGig

"'Tsin my blood." she replied, delicately picking her way over to him before sitting somewhat across from his position and taking another book into her lap. "I can't, er, make spells so I read magic books so, to learn about magic."

She ducked her head. Something was odd about her speech. It was almost like she had ample thought behind what she was saying, but she lacked the ability to speak it as fluidly as one normally could.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:46:16, as written by FizzGig

She nodded again. "Write." She made a motion like she was going to write something on a piece of parchment. "Write and..." It took her a moment to think of the right word to use, and even then it didn't come easily. So she made what looked like a growing motion with her hands. "...life. Write and life."

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:52:23, as written by FizzGig

She watched him, her eyes fluttering slightly as he excitedly moved about. Reaching for him, she grasped his wrists with her hands, pulling them down to get him to relax. She shook her head and smiled.

"Life, with life. Real things." She held up a hand, pulling out a piece of paper from behind her, and withdrawing a rather special-looking quill pen from an inner pocket of her button-down blouse. She wrote something down, then looked around her as all of the books began to stack themselves in neat piles.

When all was settled and quiet, she showed him the sentence.

And the books began to organize themselves into neat piles around the pair seated in the library.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 21:58:21, as written by FizzGig

"Anything?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side curiously. "I..what?" She didn't seem to understand his question very well.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 22:02:38, as written by FizzGig

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head rapidly. But it wasn't a denial, as if she couldn't do it, she was simply too afraid to try. Grabbing her paper, she wrote,

It would have really bad consequences if it did work.

# The Library, 2011-12-14 22:09:07, as written by FizzGig

I made myself talk like a normal person.

She replied, giving him another one of her shy, sheepish smiles.

She looked to the paper and sighed. It had been a painful, stupid mistake.

# The Library, 2011-12-19 15:10:48, as written by FizzGig

The most powerful thing I ever did,

she wrote, her brow furrowing as the words came out in an almost angry, jarring fashion,

was try to make myself speak normally. It was a horrible mistake.

It hadn't been bad, it had been downright awful. She was thankful that she'd experimented the power on herself rather than on another person. Who knows what might have happened in that case? It had been painful, and the spell magic had only been fleeting before she'd written it away. She was unable to handle it.

# The Ruins, 2011-12-19 15:34:40, as written by FizzGig

She lay with her back against one of the tall, crumbling pillars, with a sketch book resting against her knees. With a pen clasped between her fingers, she tapped her lower lip thoughtfully, then touched the tip to the paper and drew a simple, small circle.

A moment of thought. Another pause as she considered something, then she added a tiddle, a small mark that made the image look more like an upside-down 'Q'.

She wasn't aware of anyone else in the area. She'd become lost in the ritual of the runes.

# The Ruins, 2011-12-19 15:42:23, as written by FizzGig

One of the ink vials had fallen on her shoulder, spilling ink over her green shirt. Other than that, most of her focus was on getting the young man off of her.

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by FizzGig

Last seen at: Lectre Mansion Grounds

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