Oh, good lord does this man talk. He'd been nattering about this and that the entire way back to his home, which turns out to be that large manor house the locals occasionally talk about in not so much hushed whispers as baffled shouts of 'what, again?!'
"I must say, it's good to get out even just for a few hours--nothing like one's own home closing in on one to make one appreciate the fact that the rest of the world is still out there, eh?...."
Clearly one of the ways Phillip is meant to serve him is to listen to him rabbit on about whatever crosses his mind. And a lot of things cross his mind, as he's got one of those brains that runs on all cylinders or none, no inbetween, somehow maintaining half a dozen trains of thought without them crashing into one another and spilling toxic word radiation all over the mental landscape and killing all the brain cows.
"...My family have lived in this same house for the last ten generations, which is saying something considering how much we all love to travel. My grandparents and great-grandmother came home after three months abroad to find people clearing the place out because they thought they were all dead. Turns out granddad had forgotten to let anyone know they were leaving beforehand...."
The house, on the other hand, is a stoic and quiet contrivance of stone and mortar and glass and whatnot, as though it had developed a literal facade of massive indifference as a defence against having to have people like Azwel live in it. The stone is grey, the windows large but unrevealing, and the grounds around it deliberately engineered to be calming. Lilac trees abound around the house, sheltering it. Whoever does the groundskeeping has mastered the art of manufactured lack of object permanency, as it almost looks as though there isn't anything beyond the house unless one peers between the trees to see the gardens and forest beyond.
"...Needless to say, my grandfather Erich got very particular about communication after that--someone had accidentally broken his favourite washing bowl statuette during this cleanout and, of course, the man who'd sculpted it had been dead for a century. Now we have to let at least seven people outside of the house know if any of us are going to leave the country...."
But if the outside of the house is the picture of desperate attempts at something calming, the interior is... well, let's just say one's living space really is a reflection of one's personality. And this is evident even in the foyer, a spacious room with several doors and rather a lot of paintings hung on the walls, a curious giant urn bristling with umbrellas and parasols, and a massive round skylight.
"...Granted, I don't do a lot of travelling right now. I have rather a lot of things I'm working on and if I left now I daresay something or other would explode or boil over or fill the house with carnivorous plants!"
Further inside the house the 'heavily decorated' theme continues, with paintings and statues and towering bookshelves where bookshelves usually aren't found, such as in the hallways. But what's most interesting is the clever network of mirrors and lenses that cluster around sconces that hold small glowing orbs instead of candles. The way the mirrors and lenses are connected to one another on rods with gears and pulleys suggests they can be repositioned to shift the light.
"...Well, maybe not the plants...."
Finally Azwel stops walking and, more importantly, stops speaking, and pauses to regard a curious little knob set into the wall and connected to some of the abovementioned rods.
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rosecarmine
(no subject)
Date: 2020-06-11 10:32 pm (UTC)"I must say, it's good to get out even just for a few hours--nothing like one's own home closing in on one to make one appreciate the fact that the rest of the world is still out there, eh?...."
Clearly one of the ways Phillip is meant to serve him is to listen to him rabbit on about whatever crosses his mind. And a lot of things cross his mind, as he's got one of those brains that runs on all cylinders or none, no inbetween, somehow maintaining half a dozen trains of thought without them crashing into one another and spilling toxic word radiation all over the mental landscape and killing all the brain cows.
"...My family have lived in this same house for the last ten generations, which is saying something considering how much we all love to travel. My grandparents and great-grandmother came home after three months abroad to find people clearing the place out because they thought they were all dead. Turns out granddad had forgotten to let anyone know they were leaving beforehand...."
The house, on the other hand, is a stoic and quiet contrivance of stone and mortar and glass and whatnot, as though it had developed a literal facade of massive indifference as a defence against having to have people like Azwel live in it. The stone is grey, the windows large but unrevealing, and the grounds around it deliberately engineered to be calming. Lilac trees abound around the house, sheltering it. Whoever does the groundskeeping has mastered the art of manufactured lack of object permanency, as it almost looks as though there isn't anything beyond the house unless one peers between the trees to see the gardens and forest beyond.
"...Needless to say, my grandfather Erich got very particular about communication after that--someone had accidentally broken his favourite washing bowl statuette during this cleanout and, of course, the man who'd sculpted it had been dead for a century. Now we have to let at least seven people outside of the house know if any of us are going to leave the country...."
But if the outside of the house is the picture of desperate attempts at something calming, the interior is... well, let's just say one's living space really is a reflection of one's personality. And this is evident even in the foyer, a spacious room with several doors and rather a lot of paintings hung on the walls, a curious giant urn bristling with umbrellas and parasols, and a massive round skylight.
"...Granted, I don't do a lot of travelling right now. I have rather a lot of things I'm working on and if I left now I daresay something or other would explode or boil over or fill the house with carnivorous plants!"
Further inside the house the 'heavily decorated' theme continues, with paintings and statues and towering bookshelves where bookshelves usually aren't found, such as in the hallways. But what's most interesting is the clever network of mirrors and lenses that cluster around sconces that hold small glowing orbs instead of candles. The way the mirrors and lenses are connected to one another on rods with gears and pulleys suggests they can be repositioned to shift the light.
"...Well, maybe not the plants...."
Finally Azwel stops walking and, more importantly, stops speaking, and pauses to regard a curious little knob set into the wall and connected to some of the abovementioned rods.