"To kill me, did they strangle you, ye singing birds of my hopes!" [Location: A Library in Central]

[deadmanbrucolac.livejournal.com]

One perk about this newer, deader Doul is that he is easier to find. There are fewer possible places that he might be and only one place that he is. Which is, a library. Dropping from his ship, the Brucolac lands on top of the building and makes his way inside from the door to the roof. Hands in pockets, he walks through the stacks, singing absently (and unconsciously) to himself in a whisper.

Hello, darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools," said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence"

Where are you, Deadman? The Brucolac would see how you are faring, out in the wide world.

Comments

[oneofthequick.livejournal.com]

Taxon is too big, too bright, and too loud for En-Doul to easily adjust to. He loves the variety of it all and plans to continue exploring soon, but right now, he's overwhelmed and hiding out in a small, dim backroom of one of the local libraries.

It's possible that the Brucolac could even sneak up on him. Shocking, isn't it?

[deadmanbrucolac.livejournal.com]

Perhaps he could. Vampires are consummate predators, and liches are...well. They have their own set of priorities. He sits in a chair not far from Doul and watches him for a few moments. The eyes are so strange, in their metal sockets. All the delicate, wet organs fare poorly in time, but the opalescent whiteness of these eyestones had not half the power of the gray spoked netting of Uther's irises.

"However you manifest, whenever you are at loose ends, I need only look in a library to find you."

[oneofthequick.livejournal.com]

Doul has found himself a series of Eyewitness books and is marvelling at the quality and variety of the pictures. "With such wonders, where else could I be? This city is truly amazing, but I needed to collect myself. It wouldn't do to look too much like someone's idiot nephew wondering about in awe at the new chymical lights."

[deadmanbrucolac.livejournal.com]

The Brucolac peers at the books. The printing in them was wonderful, but there was something about the glossy, mercilessly-bright images that was impersonal. He could not like them. He liked the occasional sketches and artist's renderings better.

"...Has anyone shown you television?"

[oneofthequick.livejournal.com]

"No. What sort of sight is it?" That's a reasonable assumption, isn't it? "I think that my appearance unsettles most people here, even the various ab-dead races shy away."