A little cafe in Tokyo, 150 years later
Aug 17, 2009 17:46:59 GMT -5
Post by Herbert von Krolock on Aug 17, 2009 17:46:59 GMT -5
((Apparently this subboard is 90% for vampires in the future.))
Dear Zira,
This letter is to tell you to never come to Japan. I myself enjoy it a great deal, but I cannot imagine you possibly finding anything redeeming about life in Tokyo as it is today. I certainly wouldn't have even thirty years ago. It is wonderfully noisy, full of bright lights and loud music, and everything somehow seems more sudden and vivid than it does anywhere else in the world. I never imagined I would, but I adore it.
Thank you, by the way, for informing me of your change of address. The South Dales? It certainly sounds like you, but I'm hard-pressed to imagine him getting any enjoyment out of that location. As different as we are, it's far easier for me to picture him enjoying this city than a little cottage in the country. But you have a splendid habit of making anywhere the most wonderful place on earth, or at least you did for me. I'd like to think you have a similar effect on him.
I shan't keep you two apart for too long now. Best wishes to you both.
Your friend,
H.
Herbert proofread the letter before he folded it and tucked it into an envelope he'd already addressed to an A. Ziraphale in the South Dales of England, and then put the letter in his coat and went back to looking in the direction of Mount Fiji, outlined in the night sky. He had a small bowl of soup before him and took a spoonful from time to time. It was, of course, more for the flavor than any actual need to eat it.
After a few minutes, he pulled out his guidebook and opened it, leaning against the table as he read. If anyone had noticed his teeth, they hadn't commented on them and probably ascribed them to some weird quirk of fashion.
Herbert wore his glasses most of the time now, and had for the past several years. They didn't stand out as badly when the rest of his clothes were restrained and tasteful and didn't send off strong waves of look at meeeee-ness, and this worked just fine. He'd let his hair grow again, though it wasn't quite as long as it had been when he still lived with his father. That would have been too unmanageable with his relatively new tendency to not tie it back, and so it hung evenly and shining to a little below the line of his shoulders, where he could still keep it out of his face when necessary.
A waitress offered to top off his tea, and Herbert thanked her in halting Japanese. As she walked away again, he made a mental note to practice a little more.
Dear Zira,
This letter is to tell you to never come to Japan. I myself enjoy it a great deal, but I cannot imagine you possibly finding anything redeeming about life in Tokyo as it is today. I certainly wouldn't have even thirty years ago. It is wonderfully noisy, full of bright lights and loud music, and everything somehow seems more sudden and vivid than it does anywhere else in the world. I never imagined I would, but I adore it.
Thank you, by the way, for informing me of your change of address. The South Dales? It certainly sounds like you, but I'm hard-pressed to imagine him getting any enjoyment out of that location. As different as we are, it's far easier for me to picture him enjoying this city than a little cottage in the country. But you have a splendid habit of making anywhere the most wonderful place on earth, or at least you did for me. I'd like to think you have a similar effect on him.
I shan't keep you two apart for too long now. Best wishes to you both.
Your friend,
H.
Herbert proofread the letter before he folded it and tucked it into an envelope he'd already addressed to an A. Ziraphale in the South Dales of England, and then put the letter in his coat and went back to looking in the direction of Mount Fiji, outlined in the night sky. He had a small bowl of soup before him and took a spoonful from time to time. It was, of course, more for the flavor than any actual need to eat it.
After a few minutes, he pulled out his guidebook and opened it, leaning against the table as he read. If anyone had noticed his teeth, they hadn't commented on them and probably ascribed them to some weird quirk of fashion.
Herbert wore his glasses most of the time now, and had for the past several years. They didn't stand out as badly when the rest of his clothes were restrained and tasteful and didn't send off strong waves of look at meeeee-ness, and this worked just fine. He'd let his hair grow again, though it wasn't quite as long as it had been when he still lived with his father. That would have been too unmanageable with his relatively new tendency to not tie it back, and so it hung evenly and shining to a little below the line of his shoulders, where he could still keep it out of his face when necessary.
A waitress offered to top off his tea, and Herbert thanked her in halting Japanese. As she walked away again, he made a mental note to practice a little more.