fairytaleknight: (story: careful the tale you tell)
[personal profile] fairytaleknight
"Straighten up. Now I have to put you to the test."

Fakir gets to his feet, his eyes still on the family tree Autor showed him. I'm a descendant of Drosselmeyer? A direct descendant?

My ancestry is not the point.

"I'm ready," says Fakir. "Test me."

Date: 2015-01-27 08:39 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Just stand there," Autor says, and falls silent while he folds up the family tree.

"There's a ritual which sharpens the mind and spirit involving your standing there for three days and nights, doing nothing," the boy explains. "Ruminating on the craft. Drosselmeyer did this, and so should we."

Autor crosses to his shelf and puts the family tree away.

Date: 2015-01-27 09:09 pm (UTC)
herr_bookman: (glasses)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Of course I have," Autor scoffs, adjusting his glasses. "Since I was little."

Autor crosses to the desk with a light step and lifts a book off of it. "To be a Spinner requires dedication. You must hone your craft and revere the works of Drosselmeyer. Ein Wunderlich Mann, which I know you've read. Likely the Wandering Knight. Prinz Und Rabe, naturally."

Date: 2015-01-27 09:43 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
(Autor doesn't see it either, but he'd recognize who it was if he did.)

The boy leafs through his book, unsure how to proceed. Fakir didn't rise to his bait. "Let's see. There are things you'll need when you start Spinning--provided you even can--most of which I've explained already," he rambles. "The paper, the quill, the ink... Have you thought about what you'll Spin?"
Edited Date: 2015-01-27 09:56 pm (UTC)

Date: 2015-01-27 10:26 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor regards him for a while before setting the book on the desk. "Hm! Perhaps you will," he says. "Continue standing there. I'll check on you in a bit."

Then he seats himself at the desk to takes notes.

Date: 2015-01-27 10:58 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor doesn't--couldn't ever--forget Fakir. He diagrams Prinz und Rabe again, starting at the first chapter and working his way through. Plot, word construction, foreshadowing--he's seen it all before, and almost knows the book by heart, now. Still, it needs done, and it passes the time.

It's several hours before he stretches at the desk, glancing up to check on his wayward pupil. Autor fills a glass half-full of water and approaches Fakir. "Here. It wouldn't do to have you pass out from the effort of thinking."

Date: 2015-01-27 11:29 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor takes the glass. "Hm. You're welcome," he says neutrally. "If you need a break for the restroom you may have one."

May. It's strange to Autor to be the one in control of this ritual. Strange, and a little heady. He's in his father's place--well, what used to be his father's place, years ago--as the guide, and teacher. He's proud that he's not leaving Fakir alone for this, as he has been.

And Fakir shows a lot of promise. He's Autor's rival in Spinning, really, but the boy hopes they can trade ideas sometime. If he makes it through this, and the oak tree...

Autor returns to sit at the desk, pulling his sylladex out of his pocket. He calls his food bag out--"Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, or gluttoning on all, or all away*"--and hunts around for an apple, which he bites into.

*Shakespeare, Sonnet 75

Date: 2015-01-28 01:18 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor's awake. He's sitting on the couch and curled up in a blanket, sipping a cup of tea. He wouldn't miss this first night for the world. He'll sleep on the second and third nights.

"I'm pretty sure they're not," Autor informs him, coming around to face Fakir, the blanket slipping from his shoulders as he pads over there in his socks. "When given free reign over his own Stories--that is, when Drosselmeyer wasn't paid to write them--he invariably wrote tragedies," the boy says, resting his teacup in his hand. "There was one that wasn't, but it was more a history book."

Autor adjusts his glasses. "I mean, think of Prinz und Rabe. It's unfinished, but Tutu has vanished, Lohengrin is dead, and the Prince goes to fight the Monstrous Raven. Even if he defeated him, his kingdom is in shambles and half-consumed by the Raven itself."

Date: 2015-01-28 02:37 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Sure," Autor says, shrugging. "Why else would they pay him? I doubt they'd have encouraged him to write tragedies that would come true for them."

Autor sips his tea--Drosselmeyer's tea--and orders his next words. "Happy endings are cliché, but if you are indeed a Spinner, you can write whatever strikes your fancy. Reality will bend to your will."

Date: 2015-01-28 03:10 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (glasses)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Clearly because you want a happy ending," Autor says, gesturing with his cup. "Which makes sense. Not everyone's a Drosselmeyer. Not everyone should be."

Autor adjusts his glasses. "You're standing here because you want to challenge everything he is, in fact."

Date: 2015-01-28 03:25 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor eyes him critically, not bothering to flinch or take a step back with Fakir's movement.

"But you'll never get there if you can't even handle a simple ritual, Fakir," the boy says with a scoff. He straightens his blazer with one hand. "Honestly. Keep standing there and I'll check on you in the morning."

Date: 2015-01-28 03:40 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor steps into his field of vision with another glass of water, filled mostly full this time. "You may have another break," the boy informs him. "Cheer up, you made it though the first night. Two more days to go, and the real test begins!"

Date: 2015-01-28 08:29 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"I didn't sleep. I didn't want to miss your first night," Autor explains, shrugging. "I'll cat nap later."

The boy hesitates before asking, "How are you holding up?"

Date: 2015-01-29 12:11 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (glasses)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Several times," Autor says, nodding. He curls his hand around his hip. "I wouldn't very well be able to give such a rite if I hadn't been through it myself."

The boy adjusts his glasses, shrugging a little sheepishly. "It... doesn't exactly get easier with practice."

Date: 2015-01-29 12:42 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (serious)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"Ah, that makes sense," Autor starts, but then stiffens when Fakir asks his question. The boy straightens his shoulders, flexing his scarred knuckles. "My father."

Autor waves a hand and walks back to the desk. "Keep working. You've a lot to meditate on, I'm sure."

Date: 2015-01-29 01:51 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (glasses)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor flits about during the afternoon, reading books and shelving them. He takes his lunch where Fakir can't see--and knows he can probably smell it. Autor's surprised that he's tempted to go for a run--he's all restless energy--but he doesn't dare leave Fakir.

The boy approaches the aspiring Spinner with another glass of water. He'd like to ask him what he has learned, but that's probably best done when Fakir has had sleep and food.

"You may have another break," Autor quietly informs him.

Date: 2015-01-29 02:10 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor snorts indelicately, setting Fakir's glass aside. "If you're a Spinner, I imagine you'll be coming back," the boy points out, stifling a yawn.

He soon covers his mouth and gives into it, stretching his neck. "You are doing well," Autor grudgingly admits. "You've lasted longer than the first time I performed the ritual."

Of course, he was twelve or so.

Date: 2015-01-29 02:23 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (glasses)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
"They don't have to be?" Autor confesses, leaning on the bookshelf and folding his arms. "But the desk is here, and the papers, and the ink. You can take them out--all but the desk, leave that here--but there are replicas of Drosselmeyer's other items here that can lend greater weight to your Spinning. I'm sure of it."

Plus, Autor is here. And like it or not, Fakir will need his help to Spin properly. 'People may even die', he'd told Fakir, and wonders if the words had even sunk in yet. He'd tracked the family past Drosselmeyer, read the histories of so many Spinners going insane or dying from accidents bizarre and mundane. It wasn't hard to connect the dots once he knew what power had driven their misery.

He'll come back, Autor tells himself. He'll have to.

Date: 2015-01-29 04:12 am (UTC)
herr_bookman: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
--

If Autor were awake and could read Fakir's thoughts, he'd chide him for focusing on a silly thing like girls--especially that girl, honestly!--even when his own mind wanders horribly during these rites. But Autor is asleep, and he sleeps until mid-morning, as he missed the night before.

The boy stretches, groggily combing his fingers through his hair. He finds his glasses on the table next to the couch and dons them, blinking blearily as his eyes adjust.

Autor heads to the restroom to wash his face, and then crosses to the desk to pour a glass of water for Fakir out of the pitcher. "Break time," he says, offering him the glass. "You're almost there."

Date: 2015-01-29 07:40 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] herr_bookman
Autor recognizes the state he's in, having been in something like it himself. He carries the glass back to the desk and makes himself a cup of tea.

He's done well, Autor thinks, allowing himself the thought. Very well. He can finish the test at the oak tree and then... What if he hears its voice?

The boy nervously glances to Fakir. Well. I've heard it, too. He might hear a sigh, perhaps. Perhaps.

Autor sips his tea, comforted by the fact that he'll be the one in control of Fakir's tests.

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Fakir

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