Cain Hargreaves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misterblackbird) wrote2010-11-29 11:22 am
misterblackbird) wrote2010-11-29 11:22 am
Entry 449; Day 710
It seems the tourists are back again today.
I'm quite certain now that I make the same Network entry every time there's such a flood of people, but, really, what else is there to say? I look out the window, see the crowds--and usually a small clutch of girls screams up at me from the street when I appear at the window--and turn to the Network to say that I've seen the crowds and would like to avoid them, impossible as that is. They're rather like insects in the way these visitors manage to get into everything.
I've forgotten how many times this has happened now--at least six or even seven times now in the time that I've been here, and perhaps more than that. I know it happened on Hallowe'en once and near mid-summer another time. And I remember it happened not a week after I'd first arrived in this place. It's rather like bad weather: it's going to happen, sooner or later. I suppose it has been a little while since we last endured it.
Exciting as it is at first, it gets exhausting after five minutes of it. The fact that I haven't learned to stay away from the Network entirely--both the Network and the windows, since it seems there are a few people standing below mine and they seem to be watching for me--probably proves how much of a fool I am.
Or how much I like the attention, some would say. And perhaps I do like it.
It seems like a very pleasant day to spend indoors reading--even if I've already read most everything I have here. One can always reread things, of course. And there's always the Network to read.
If you need me, you actually don't. Send a message if matters are pressing. If the cafe is desperate for my help, send for me, but I'd like to avoid being trampled for as long as I can. I may be going out, but only in desperation. I've never had a fear of these visitors before, nor should I be afraid of them now. They're only tiresome and exhausting. Perhaps I'll take a walk somewhere they're less likely to follow--like the cemetery. That would serve as a good enough shield, I think.
Merry, Riff, I would not recommend going out today, if you can avoid it. The chaos will be unbelievable, and there's no telling who might be in the crowds. I'm sure you take my meaning there.
Still--Merry, Riff, the best part is that I won't have to watch for you to pay me a visit this time. This when you'd always come before: when these floodgates would open and these visitors would stream in. But you've come in properly now. Little as I like for you to be here, I suppose it was worse in some ways to have you appear one day and vanish at midnight. The City's hardly a pleasant place, but at least you're here all the time now.
Perhaps I'd do better to welcome all these visitors instead. By now, I'm almost certain to see some people I've known before. They're less strangers and more visitors.
Though why anyone would visit the City, I shall never understand.
~C.
[ooc: Hit him. Hit him with everything you've got. Anything that really unsettles him will either be written off as the ravings of a lunatic or fade from memory after the curse. (And, just as a side note, so everyone knows what I mean by that, Cain is from Volume 5 [North American numbering] of Godchild.) I'd prefer it if he not get spoiled on his own ending, but he can also just forget what anyone tells him.]
I'm quite certain now that I make the same Network entry every time there's such a flood of people, but, really, what else is there to say? I look out the window, see the crowds--and usually a small clutch of girls screams up at me from the street when I appear at the window--and turn to the Network to say that I've seen the crowds and would like to avoid them, impossible as that is. They're rather like insects in the way these visitors manage to get into everything.
I've forgotten how many times this has happened now--at least six or even seven times now in the time that I've been here, and perhaps more than that. I know it happened on Hallowe'en once and near mid-summer another time. And I remember it happened not a week after I'd first arrived in this place. It's rather like bad weather: it's going to happen, sooner or later. I suppose it has been a little while since we last endured it.
Exciting as it is at first, it gets exhausting after five minutes of it. The fact that I haven't learned to stay away from the Network entirely--both the Network and the windows, since it seems there are a few people standing below mine and they seem to be watching for me--probably proves how much of a fool I am.
Or how much I like the attention, some would say. And perhaps I do like it.
It seems like a very pleasant day to spend indoors reading--even if I've already read most everything I have here. One can always reread things, of course. And there's always the Network to read.
If you need me, you actually don't. Send a message if matters are pressing. If the cafe is desperate for my help, send for me, but I'd like to avoid being trampled for as long as I can. I may be going out, but only in desperation. I've never had a fear of these visitors before, nor should I be afraid of them now. They're only tiresome and exhausting. Perhaps I'll take a walk somewhere they're less likely to follow--like the cemetery. That would serve as a good enough shield, I think.
Merry, Riff, I would not recommend going out today, if you can avoid it. The chaos will be unbelievable, and there's no telling who might be in the crowds. I'm sure you take my meaning there.
Still--Merry, Riff, the best part is that I won't have to watch for you to pay me a visit this time. This when you'd always come before: when these floodgates would open and these visitors would stream in. But you've come in properly now. Little as I like for you to be here, I suppose it was worse in some ways to have you appear one day and vanish at midnight. The City's hardly a pleasant place, but at least you're here all the time now.
Perhaps I'd do better to welcome all these visitors instead. By now, I'm almost certain to see some people I've known before. They're less strangers and more visitors.
Though why anyone would visit the City, I shall never understand.
~C.
[ooc: Hit him. Hit him with everything you've got. Anything that really unsettles him will either be written off as the ravings of a lunatic or fade from memory after the curse. (And, just as a side note, so everyone knows what I mean by that, Cain is from Volume 5 [North American numbering] of Godchild.) I'd prefer it if he not get spoiled on his own ending, but he can also just forget what anyone tells him.]
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1/2
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I'd explain the whole story behind the cafe--to put it simple, I inherited it when someone else left the City--but I'd rather ask how you are. Are you well?
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Ah, an inheritance. I hope it is thriving then, and is not much of a bother to run. As for me, I am doing quite well. The library- ah, the library where I'm from has seen better days though.
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I suppose it's thriving. I try to keep it as best I can. It's a little entertainment for me, and some decent employment for the staff, so it's a fair enough thing to keep, I suppose.
I'm rather sorry to hear your library has seen better days. Ours underwent a bit of a catastrophe earlier this year, but it seems to have recovered.