sabra_la_antiqua | (no subject)

Who: Booklovers, residents and happenstance travellers
Where: Corehaven, Cepheus
When: Year 194, early fall
What: The Annual People's Faire of Lore and Learning, a.k.a. Nomus, a.k.a. That Week Where Books Are All Over The Place a.k.a. bibliowl mating season

[ if you happen to be visiting or passing through any Cephean town worth its salt this time of year, you're bound to find the main streets by the seeming flood and bustle of people and books, books, books everywhere. Tables and crates and stalls of every imaginable piece of literature that pen could set to paper, regardless of genre, length, age or origin; many rarely seeing the light of day for the rest of the year, or indeed at all. Bartering is as acceptable as payment in coin, with many a pair of well-loved tomes exchanging hands; and some owners are marked with a generous streak at this time of year, offering at times impressive spreads of the written word for no greater price than a promise of care and appreciation.

In the bigger cities the fairs extend for several blocks in all directions, in various parts of the city, open from dawn to dusk; and in the grandest of them, such as that of Corehaven, gaslight keeps some tables laid out, and opens others, throughout the night.

Flocks of bibliowls roost thickly in the eaves of buildings at this time of year, hooting cheerfully in the evenings. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[siiiigh]

As soon as I run out of room, you're moving.

[ yesss we knew boss is the best ]

[I am too soft!! gathers up the basket and heads out.]

[ best ride!!! ]

[ it is in fact a bright shining day of early fall, with just about enough of a breeze that most people keep their coats on. It also means the main street nearest to the old bookshop is already positively bustling with people and voices, the rustle of paper and thump of leather.
Two or three passersby already stopping to look over the spread of the curious Mr. Rhodes.

where to? ]

[somehow anyone taking a book knows exactly how much money to leave. (sometimes nothing.)

he hefts the basket of owls and heads for the main thoroughfare of the fair.]

[ mysteriously so. 8|aaa

the main thoroughfare in this part of the city seems to be part of where the more scholastic collections are assembled; histories, cartographic charts, records of obscure places, encyclopedic tomes... many of the patrons frequenting the area of the older generation, some sitting down at little tables and chairs on the sidewalk for tea and sedate conversation with the booth owners and others of similar interests.

one of the map sellers, the proprietor of his own little nook not too far away from here, looks up from haggling with a disgruntled-looking man in glasses with several books already tucked under his arm. There's a cheerful call: ]

Aah, Rhodes! I see you're finally out of your roost for once.

[angles towards the nook, already looking over the maps with a practiced eye.]

Today's business is important. As it is every year.

True enough, true enough. I'll be right with you in a minute, lemme just finish with the gentleman here...

[ many of them are copies you've seen before, likely already have in your possession... a few have some interesting new cartographic interpretations of the Cygnus-Pyxis-Canis region, and as always there's the latest map of the tentative borders of the Lynx-Corvus commonwealth against its eastern neighbour...

... and a couple of others look like they were drawn from someone's hallucinatory trip of no land (possibly) currently in existence. One of those landmasses looks like a dolphinacorn, if you turn it sideways and squint. ]

By all means. Please take your time.

[considering the dolphinacorn one thoughtfully]

[ the auth... artist seems to have even meticulously shaded in a myriad of colors into that distinctly horn-like protrusion of land. ...in eeriely accurate sequence, at that.

the little doodles at one corner of the paper might be crude renditions of mushrooms. Or dongs. ]

[s...sigh]

This isn't accurate, you know.

[ while the customer begrudgingly counts coins into a palm, the map seller glances up again, then at the map in question... and cackles heartily. ]

About as accurate as jackalope's tales. Still, it's a work, isn't it? And you won't believe whose hand it was.

Whose?

None other than Phineas Kost. The old legend himself. Can you believe it?

[ he takes a moment to shake his head, grinning ]

S'just a story, of course, but I heard he got a little too deep into the Lacerta vines when he made up this one. Still, it is technically his hundredth piece... not that it's ever gonna be one for the printing presses, anyway...

And certainly not one without much practical use.

[still, examining it]

I am not surprised he completed this in Lacerta, however...

[ it's certainly. very detailed, and executed with a comparable level of skill to the previous more... sober works.

the map seller leans back in his chair, putting a thin pipe to his mouth and lighting a match. Cups his hands around the bowl for a moment, and speaks up after the first contented puff of smoke. ]

You ever been there yourself, Rhodes?

[but not accurate!! oh well. he folds his hands behind his back.]

A few times. My sister insisted on having me visit. And on having me participate in the local customs, although I can tell you that I certainly refrained.