(1938-11-06) Making Moves on the Moving Staircase
Details for Making Moves on the Moving Staircase
Summary: Augustin bumps into Eibhlin.
Date: 1938-11-06
Location: The Grand Moving Staircase

Gus is on his way somewhere, and clatters as noisily as possible down the stairs, whistling as he goes. As usual, there are a few wood shavings caught on the front of his robe, and his hands have small fresh knicks on them from his carving tools. There's a fresh plaster on the back of his left hand, stark white against his skin. His pockets seem to be bulging with something. In his right hand he carries a fresh block of very dark wood that he's examining as he descends.

Eibhlin has her head down as well, though her assent of the staircase is far quieter than Gus' decent. Her attention on the piece of paper in hand she's climbing the stairs by practice of her time at the school, and the sound of the stairs moving. While she might not see the boy coming, at least she can hear him, side stepping in attempt to avoid a collision with the other person.

And a collision is thusly avoided. But Gus looks up, sees the red hair, and beams. "Oh, what-ho, Shine," he greets cheerfully. "True to your name, you've brought a ray of sunshine to these dodgy old stairs." He leans casually against the railing and just grins. "Where are you off to?"

Eibhlin blinks, blue eyes lifting from the page to the boy. "Oh, hey Rousseau," she returns a greeting with a quiet smile. "I don't know that I'd say all that…" but as for where she's headed, "I'm not rightly sure. Maybe the trophy room? Was going to see if it was quiet up there." If not then she might detour elsewhere. "You've got a little," she notes, indicating the shavings on his robe with a light brush of her own collar.

"Ah, you might have to wait a bit," Gus says, sounding somewhat regretful. "Not only is the Staircase moving… the wrong way… but I wanted to chat you up a bit." He looks down at his robes and tries to blow the shavings off. "Fffff. Fffff!" It's not that effective, and his hands are full with a block of wood and his books, so he shrugs and leaves them where they are. "Sorry for looking a bit untidy," he says. "You're gorgeous, though, so that's something."

Eibhlin glances up towards the steps above them with a sigh, "Seems your right." Either she didn't hear the second reason for it or she's choosing to ignore it. Either way she giggles at his attempt to blow the shavings off, "Its okay, really," she assures, a not so subtle blush creeping to her cheeks at the compliment that follows. "Um.. thank you?"

"You're welcome," Gus says. He just stands there and grins at her, a little foolishly. "So… what do you like to do when you're not studying?" he asks.

Eibhlin blinks. "I.. um.." she starts, trying to determine the best answer to the sudden question. "Reading," which lets face it isn't that far off from studying for her more than not. "I'm trying to decide on a project now, but.." Well that's another story.

"Oh, yeah?" Gus asks, tilting his head. "What kind of things do you like to read? History? Autobiographies? Mystery novels?" He leans a bit closer. "Romances?" And of course after her last statement he brightens. "What kind of project?"

Eibhlin nods, "Yeah, a little bit of everything," she replies, "Depends on what I feel like." Though she wrinkles her nose at the mention of romances. "Not so much my favorite, but it depends on the story I guess," she adds with a shrug. As for her project, "Its nothing really, just some needlework, something to get my mind off other things." A.K.A.: give her a break from studying.

"I'd love to see it," Gus says. "I'm a bit… well, you saw the eagle." He beams. "Artistically inclined, I am." He moves a few inches closer to her and tilts his head a little to look more closely at her. "What other things does your mind need relief from?" he asks.

"Maybe I'll have to show you when I get it started, then," Eibhlin replies, not exactly agreeing, but she's not saying she won't either. "I did," she returns about his carving, "And you are, it's not so much artistic," she adds of her needlework, "it's just following a pattern. It's not anything like what you do." A shrug follows for those things, "Studying mostly I suppose. I mean, it doesn't really matter what it is, sometimes you just have to put the books away for a bit. You know?"

Gus sits down on the stairs and pats the riser beside him invitingly, grinning up at her. "Have a seat, Shine," he says. "I would love to see your needlepoint. And… hm." He tilts his head a bit and considers. "The difference between art and craft is that art is unique, while crafts are produced en masse. So if you are following a pattern that many others have also used, it's craft. However… if you design your /own/ pattern for needlework, then it's art. Do you design your own?"

Eibhlin might have declined the offer to sit, but given their currently stranded position on the stairs she sinks to a seat beside him, smoothing her skirt over her bottom as she does. "Oh gosh, no," she replies, "I could try I guess, but I just like the stitching sometimes. One of those things were you don't have to think too hard to do."

"Well, hm," Gus says thoughtfully. "Here." He slips a notebook out of his small stack of books and opens it - the pages are blank. Then he pulls a pencil from his pocket and starts sketching, not letting her see what he's doing quite yet. "Sometimes when I whittle I just hack away with nothing particular in mind," he tells her. "It's quite soothing, /and/," he tells her with a mischeivous grin, "I have the very best collection of carved sticks of various sizes - from toothpicks to chop sticks to walking staves."

"Exactly," Eibhlin agrees when he mentions how soothing that can be. The notebook however piques her curiosity and she leans towards him a bit further to try and catch a peek. "I'd imagine," she laughs lightly about his stick collection. "I don't think that would work for me though."

He's sketching her profile, turns out. An Art-Nouveau style, apparently heavily influenced by Alphonse Mucha, she's all gracefully swirling hair and big eyes and soft lips. He's that quick. As she watches he puts a few finishing touches on it. "I'll add a border," he promises. "Color it, and give it to you for your needlepoint."

"Rousseau…" the redhead says with a bit of a sigh, "You don't have to, I mean it's pretty. Really. But.." What is she going to do with it? And "A drawing isn't exactly a pattern…"

"I was inspired," Gus says with a smile. "You've a very nice profile. Such a cute nose, and that swan-like neck, all that Titian hair." He gives her a very long, appraising look, and is pleased by what he sees. "If this won't do for a pattern, perhaps we can work on it together to make it." The Staircase is gradually moving closer to its destination, finally almost aligned with Eibhlin's goal.

"It is, I guess, but that's not what I mean." Though at this point she's not really sure herself what she does mean by it. Of course his appraisal causes a flush to rise again. "You're too sweet," Eibhlin replies, her attempt to distract herself by looking away allowing her to notice the stairs reaching her destination. "I- I should be going," she notes, standing. "Maybe some other time?" a thought at least before the steps engage and she moves to head on her way.

"Definitely," Gus affirms. "Another time." He stands when she does, what a little gentleman, and watches her go, a wistful look on his face.

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