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."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-01-28 01:18 am (UTC)"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."