Shirogane | GaoSilver (
anachronisticbilliards) wrote in
aungier2013-07-07 04:16 pm
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Date: November 2, 1888
Time: 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM
Location: Various locations around the house.
Characters: Shirogane (
anachronisticbilliards) and YOU! [OPEN/CLOSED]
Summary: Shirogane's just trying to do his job and is available to be bothered.
Warnings: Moving furniture. The horror.
What with all of the people constantly coming and going at Aungier House, furniture needed to be moved around quite often. Rooms needed to be prepared. Some rooms didn't have enough furniture. Others had too much. Other rooms had the appropriate amounts of furniture and were well-used, but the furniture still needed to be moved so that the maids could clean.
That's where the footmen came in. Today, Shirogane found himself doing just that--moving furniture. For the most part, he didn't mind the work. It could be physically demanding, true, but at least there was a point to it. A purpose other than that someone somewhere thought criminals needed to walk on treadmills or turn pointless cranks for hours on end. For a few hours in the afternoon, he could be found moving furniture between rooms as he'd been directed. If he needed to be bothered or pulled away for some other task, well, he was just a footman. He didn't quite have as much governance over his own time as he would have liked.
Time: 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM
Location: Various locations around the house.
Characters: Shirogane (
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Summary: Shirogane's just trying to do his job and is available to be bothered.
Warnings: Moving furniture. The horror.
What with all of the people constantly coming and going at Aungier House, furniture needed to be moved around quite often. Rooms needed to be prepared. Some rooms didn't have enough furniture. Others had too much. Other rooms had the appropriate amounts of furniture and were well-used, but the furniture still needed to be moved so that the maids could clean.
That's where the footmen came in. Today, Shirogane found himself doing just that--moving furniture. For the most part, he didn't mind the work. It could be physically demanding, true, but at least there was a point to it. A purpose other than that someone somewhere thought criminals needed to walk on treadmills or turn pointless cranks for hours on end. For a few hours in the afternoon, he could be found moving furniture between rooms as he'd been directed. If he needed to be bothered or pulled away for some other task, well, he was just a footman. He didn't quite have as much governance over his own time as he would have liked.
2pm, in the first floor Drawing Room
In his defense, the books here really were quite unlike anything he'd ever seen before; there were so many in one place, and on so many subjects from so many years gone by. Reading in English fluently was a skill that, even after seven years, still required honing on his part, but he knew more than enough to dive into some of the lighter texts on offer. So much that picking between the array of volumes jammed onto each and every shelf took him far longer than he'd anticipated, and he hadn't even noticed Shirogane getting to work in the room next door.
Which was probably why, as he made to leave with his latest acquisition open in his hands, he completely failed to notice the chaise shuffled rather closer to the doorway than usual- and walked right into it. Giving an impressively loud oof, Warsman stumbled over the back of the sofa and landed mask-first in the cushions, while Moll Flanders took to the air with aerodynamics that would have captivated any physicist. That it was also likely to catch Shirogane hard on its way back down was less worth boasting about.
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"Ah-" He struggled back to his feet and around the sofa, holding his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry! I wasn't-- are you alright?" Trying to apologise properly could wait- if he was right, the poor man had a look more on his mind than explanations. Quite literally.
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"I didn't mean to throw it- I tripped on the sofa and it flew out of my hands. I really am sorry." He took a hesitant, hopeful step forward, silently praying that he'd been clearer this time. "I hope it didn't hurt too badly...?"
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Oops. That realization seemed to blunt the worst of his anger, at least. "Ah...no, no, I'm fine..." How very awkward. "I did not realize I'd placed the sofa so far out there in the way..."
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"You hadn't," he answered gently. "I was reading at the time. I really should have been more aware, but..." But it really was a startling read. He paused, glancing almost plaintively to the floor again. "... not to undermine my apology, but... do you think you could help me find it? The book, that is. I have a sneaking suspicion it might have been a first edition."
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Indeed, he was so preoccupied by his search that he didn't think to put off giving his answer, and found himself saying, "'Moll Flanders', by Mr. Daniel Defoe," before he could review whether or not it was wise to advertise his literary habits in this particular instance. "It has a brown cover..."
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If he'd had cheeks, Warsman would have blushed. "It's..." How could he possibly make this sound appropriate? It wasn't that he'd been caught with an issue of The Pearl, but it seemed like precisely the sort of thing he could be misunderstood about. "It's about the life of a sinful woman," he settled on eventually, then busied himself leaning over a nearby armchair to check behind it, completely missing the book at his feet in his hurry.
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Shirogane had started up his own search on the other side of the room and had his back to the book on the floor, but at Warsman's explanation of its contents, Shirogane couldn't help but turn to look at the other in surprise. When he did that, he spotted the book by Warsman's feet. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to pick it up, opening it up to flip through the pages as he did so. Morbid curiosity, one might call it. "Is this it?"
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He winced slightly as he found and held the book up, not only because he'd miss it in so obvious a place but because it meant the evidence was right in front of his face. "Yes... yes, that's it."
Rather than claim it immediately, though, he at least had the grace to let the manservant leaf through it first; if he were Robin he'd probably have been able to leap in then and there with page numbers and recommendations, citing the most affecting and elegantly written passages, but all he could do was stand by in slightly embarrassed silence. "... I... really couldn't give you an opinion on it yet," he forced himself to say eventually. "Mr. Defoe's works are apparently held in very high regard, though. You're welcome to borrow it when I've finished."
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