Hanging On A Moment Of Truth

[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

Date: 30th November, 2008
Tag(s): Lachlan Ballard

The life of Saint Columba was a fascinating one, not least because part of what shaped its course was a pivotal disagreement with Saint Finian, and all over the right to own a beautifully copied and illuminated manuscript. It might seem ridiculous to us now, with the mass printing of books and papers and the throwaway culture they were merely a small part of perpetuating; but in the early years writing was done with painstaking attention to detail, pages taking days as opposed to seconds, illustrations were expensive and often laced with gold. No-one who saw such pieces now could fail to appreciate their beauty and worth – the Book of Kells being one such pertinent example also from Ireland. The dispute led to a battle, and in consequence took Columba to the verge of excommunication, a pseudo-death sentence for a believer, as punishment – his eventual penitent atonement leading him to exile in the equally harsh wilds of Scotland amongst the violent Picts.

Saint Finian, however, was a figure she was more than familiar with – Movilla Abbey was a ruin she had often driven past going to and from school, and its history was well-remembered by the community. Though it could equally be noted that the entire island of Ireland, both North and South, was filled with saints; everywhere you turned was an overgrown shrine or a forgotten abbey, monuments of half-forgotten and misremembered faith. However, only hearing one half of a story would inevitably lead to a partisan view, and in light of the fact that a mission had finally come up that involved returning home, Bea felt that it couldn’t hurt to brush up on this area of history. The saint who was actually involved in the reason for tomorrow’s travels was something of an obscure figure; however, there was an off-chance that he might be mentioned in works regarding more celebrated figures, such as Finian and Columba. The book had been listed as being here, it had been confirmed through a brief phone call to a librarian who sounded like she felt there were better uses of her time; yet when Bea arrived it was, miraculously, not where it was supposed to be. How typical that something she wanted had gone walk about. An archivist, one of many staff the Museum seemed to employ, had seemingly noticed her highly expressive roll of mismatched eyes when she had returned to the main desk to point out that the small tome was missing (a place for everything and everything in its place, nowhere should that be more true than in a library), and had offered with immediate kindness to assist in the search. He was pleasant, making gratuitous small talk to pass the time as they combed the stacks, eventually letting out a quietly triumphant ‘a-ha’ as his gaze hit upon the crimson cover of the Vita Columbae. After receiving her grateful thanks and a grin, he had brushed off the words and disappeared with a good-natured farewell. The young woman hadn’t learnt his name, but his face would no doubt stick in her head; her memory possessed more than enough room to house recollections of small instances of thoughtfulness on the part of others.

And so that was the reason she was ensconced in the really quite delightful Cloisters Library (delightful now that she took the time to notice, that is), engrossed in that copy of Vita Columbae which had proved itself so elusive. The Latin was simple to follow for the most part, and even where it erred on the side of effusiveness the context provided enough pointers to do away with the necessity of a dictionary. The morning had passed into afternoon, the flow of people not doing much more than cause the occasional ripple of noise through the still air, a haze of light rain spattering against the window panes. That was the simple, brilliant things about such places as libraries and museums – time felt different here, surrounded by the objects of the past. And so it was that Bea didn’t register the shadow that fell across her, nor notice the figure that was casting it.

Thread Inspiration Song: Lady Gaga - Edge Of Glory

[LACHLAN BALLARD]

It's like a book elegantly bound but,
in a language that you can't read.
Just yet.

Lachlan sighed heavily as he sipped his coffee at his desk, looking over papers on what exactly was in the new African Exhibit and a couple new artifacts that they had previously gotten. November had proven to be an interesting month for dear Lachlan but he didn't mind at all. He was actually growing rather bored lately and the few highlights of November helped to ease it. His hand curled around the travel mug as he gently sat it back on his desk. His steel blue eyes gently scanned what was in the African Exhibit and nodded as he put the paper in the file on his table. Bitting his bottom lip, Lachlan closed the file and sat back in his chair, turning it back in forth in thought.

In all honesty, he was thinking about the young woman he had met before lunch. He figured the reason why she stuck in his mind so was her intriguing eyes, being of two different colors, and the book she asked for. It was an interesting book to request and in all honesty, he was curious as to why she needed it. He couldn't help but grumble about the librarian as she was no help at all, but all in all he wasn't mad about helping. It gave him something to do after all. Clearing his throat, Lachlan got up from his chair and grabbed his travel mug, taking a sip as he walked out of his office. He made his way down the hall and got into the elevator, heading for the library.

Lachlan was dressed in a black buttoned up dress shirt, with a few buttons undone on the top (after all he didn't want to choke to death), a pair of nice black paints and white with black Converse Chucks on his feet. He actually wasn't wearing nice black shoes today, deciding to give his feet a break since he would have to walk home tonight anyways. His blonde hair was combed nicely and his English face was clean shaven. He stepped out of the elevator and made his way to the library, slowly opening the door just in case people were reading. He stopped in the door way for a moment as he let his steel blue eyes taking everything in. Putting his one hand that was free in his pocket, he took another sip of coffee from his mug as he walked to where he helped the woman find the book. Miraculously she was still there, he tilted his head a little as he stepped behind her. She seemed very engrossed and he almost didn't want to disturb her.

Lachlan took his free hand out of his pocket and let it hang at his side, "Wow you're still here?" he asked as his English accent showed a little.

Word Count: 469
Music: I Will Possess Your Heart Death Cab For Cutie
Notes: Yay so excited to roleplay with Beate :], two people from the UK in the same room

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[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

There was that split-second prickle of awareness that served to raise the alarm that you were being watched, and the comment about her continued presence followed hot on its heels. She had never been one for marking her place in a book, odd though this was – Bea much preferred to flip through the work again, to search for the last passage she remembered reading. The justification the Siren used for this was that it served to emphasise the reading – in reality it was probably closer to that fact that remembering to carry some form of bookmark (not turning down pages – do that in front of a librarian and they were likely to murder you) was a habit that had never been mastered. And so Bea perfunctorily snapped it closed, setting it in her lap and twisting round in the high-backed chair slightly so as to see the member of staff who had proved himself so facilitating earlier in the day.

“Yes, here I am.” She replied in a friendly tone, an amused smile tugging her lips upwards. Once the accent registered with her – and that didn’t take long, it was so easy to place, and unmuddied by any American twang – surprise crossed her features, though it was of a pleasant nature. “And you’re English.” Bea observed casually after a moment or two, happy with such an unlooked-for discovery. “You’re an awfully long way from home.” The young woman added, despite the fact that the same thing could be said for her. It was so uncommon to find another person from the United Kingdom in the massive metropolis that was New York – true, workers and scholars and professionals of every description gravitated there from all over the world, but to strike up a conversation with one and hit upon familiarity was as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. And she hadn’t even thought to comment upon this fact earlier in the day! Then again, that was because she had been fixated on a goal – she was a persistent person, and once Bea McCann decided to do something coaxing blood from a stone would have been a more desirable task than attempting to dissuade her.

“I’m Bea.” She ended on an introduction that by rights should have been at the very beginning, but it was better late than never.

[LACHLAN BALLARD]

It's like a book elegantly bound but,
in a language that you can't read.
Just yet.

A smile formed on Lachlan's lips as the woman spoke to him. Bringing the mug to his lips yet again as he took another sip. His steel eyes moved from her to the book as he noticed she didn't book mark it. Well he was assuming she didn't because of the fact nothing was sticking out of it to resemble a bookmark. This interested him yet again but he didn't say anything. His eyes moved from the book to her as she spoke again and he first gave her a nod before speaking, "That book must be fantastic and yes I am English where as you are Northern Irish? You're accent is different"

[/color], he spoke as he took another sip of his coffee.

"I'm not the only one, but home for me is now a studio apartment in this city" Lachlan spoke with another smile as he decided to walk around the table and pull back a chair, "May I sit?"[/color] asked politely as he sat his mug down on the table. "So what's a United Kingdom girl doing in America?"[/color] he asked curiously again as he finally just took a seat and put his hands around the mug in front of him. His eyebrow arched as she introduced herself, a name with the face was always nice. "Pleasure Bea, I'm Lachlan"[/color] he spoke as he reached his arm across the table holding out his hand.

He couldn't help but flicker his attention back to the book, it was a lovely cover and rather large. However Lachlan's steel blue eyes soon looked up to see Bea's one brown and one blue set of eyes."College project?"[/color] he asked curiously. Unlike most, Lachlan wasn't bad at small talk.

Word Count: I didn't count this time D:
Music: I Will Possess Your Heart Death Cab For Cutie
Notes: Still excited to roleplay with Bea XD
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[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

“It’s been interesting for certain.” Bea commented upon the book – admittedly it had been a lost cause information wise, because apparently St Cooey was just too localised for even his fellow saints to know about – yet the rereading of a small slice of her community’s history had been a pleasant interruption to life in the mad rush that was America. It was, in its own way, like going home again – she could see clearly the places mentioned, could picture what she knew as ruins when they were newly-built, could envisage the saintly men the work focused upon striding purposefully about, arguing over what some would call trivialities, but that to them were essential points to be thrashed out.

She didn’t need to even gesture in the affirmative to his request to sit: and it wasn’t as though she would have considered turning him away anyway. “And yes, I’m from Northern Ireland.” Bea confirmed, “It’s nice that someone is able to place the accent for a change.” she added appreciatively as she shook the proferred hand – some of the guesses she had received over the years regarding her nationality had been by turns both stupid and obscure; amusing in its own way, but the occasional correct guess was worth a lot more than a cheap laugh. Sometimes she even said she was from Belfast, on the slim off-chance that her capital city had been heard of, or, even rarer, that it had been visited – The Troubles were supposed to have ended and tourism was on the rise, seemingly. This too was a rather puzzling source of hilarity for most residents of that country, especially the older generation – time was, nobody would visit Northern Ireland and one of the first questions you were asked when you informed people of your home country was, ‘aren’t you scared to live there?’ or ‘have you been in a bomb scare?’. Generally, this invited a degree of sarcasm that baffled anyone who didn't understand the Northern Irish need to joke irreverently about everything - it was a collective coping mechanism, if you wanted to think about it in technical terms. Or a bit of good craic, if you didn't.

“No, sadly it’s for work.” She answered with a laugh – the idea that she still appeared young enough to be doing university assignments was an amusing notion – though she did not elaborate further. This was one of those things that consistently managed to stump her; how to not tell people about her job, because she wasn’t allowed to. Admittedly it was easier with those she had grown up around (mostly because the rumour mill did the sterling job of informing everyone about the little details of her life without necessitating the speaking of a single word or her part), but strangers could still leave her a bit stumped. And so Miss McCann followed up with a query of her own,

“And what is it you do here Lachlan – apart from retrieve mis-shelved books?”

[LACHLAN BALLARD]

It's like a book elegantly bound but,
in a language that you can't read.
Just yet.

Lachlan smiled and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. His hand cupped around the mug again as he took another sip and nodded. "I agree maybe it helps that I'm from the UK too but mostly people hit it on the nose for me" he spoke as he tapped his nose and small grin formed on his lips. He sat his mug back down and his eyes trailed back to the book before looking up at Beate again. He liked to look into people's eyes when he was being talked to or she was talking to them. He feels its the polite thing to do.

His eyebrow arched a little as she said that she was doing it for her job. "Ah so you work in a museum too or something that has to do with history?"

[/color] he asked curiously, as soon as he asked it however he regretted it. He didn't know if it was too pressing of a question but it sounded like it. Doing research like that she could work at a museum even to just being a teacher brushing up on her history of that specific Saint. He brought the cup to his lips again, looking down at it, and took the last sip of his coffee, sitting the cup down and moving it to the side of the table.

Lachlan licked his lip for a moment to get the coffee off of it and looked back up at Beate as she asked him what he did for work. "Well I'm an Archivist here, I take care of artifacts and clean them and what not. I also dabble in photography but thats more like a hobby"[/color] he spoek with a wave of his hand. "Do you dabble in anything?"[/color] he asked curiously.

Word Count: I didn't count this time D:
Music: I Will Possess Your Heart Death Cab For Cutie
Notes: Still excited XD
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[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

Her indecisiveness no doubt showed on her face for a few seconds, accompanied by a seemingly idle twirling of a stray bit of hair that actually indicated nervousness to those who were psychologically minded - before she formulated a method of tackling this issue - (the BPRD didn’t officially exist, after all), yet at the same time she would have preferred to stick to the half-truth she most commonly utilised. However, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Oh, it's in international relations.” Bea replied, adopting an airy tone in the hopes of covering the fact that she wished to elaborate no further upon the subject. Lachlan, however, seemed almost contrite in his posture after inquiring, and this in turn reassured the Agent enough that she flippantly added, “It sounds exciting, but nothing's further from the truth."

He explained the content of his actual duties – they sounded dry to her, but who was she to comment if that was where another individual’s interests lay? – and then Lachlan went on to elaborate about the fact he practised photography as a hobby. She had listened with polite, half-distant interest up until that point, but photography had always been something that possessed the ability to capture her imagination; the ability to frame images, times, places, memories in a picture in order to own an evocative reminder of instances in life was a brilliant idea. As he spoke further about his own passion, Bea reached over and gently placed the book on the table, it being surplus to requirements for the time being while the Englishman had her attention, turning slightly in her chair so she was facing him more.

The next inquiry he made of her was as to the nature of her hobbies, if any, and that was a subject Bea was quite happy with – despite how pleasant it had been listening to him enthuse about his pastime. “Oh, I used to do a bit of singing when I was younger – joined everyone else in the quest to try and make it a career. It didn’t work out.” She explained, not sounding jaded like some who had not had their dreams come true would do. After all, singing had led her into both trouble and joy – with her Siren heritage, her voice became a double-edged sword, though one that had led to the job at the Bureau which she found satisfying enough for now. Bea was a practical person, having had that trait ingrained into her as a farmer’s daughter, but it only went so far; some agents planned for when they would no longer be able to effectively deal with the supernatural (and the crippling paperwork), but choosing to think so far ahead was not in Bea’s remit.

“Now I just hum incessantly and drive people batty.” She jested.

[LACHLAN BALLARD]

It's like a book elegantly bound but,
in a language that you can't read.
Just yet.

"Oh I see...that sounds pretty important. And here I just work at a museum"

[/color] he spoke with a light chuckle. Meeting people who worked for the government always made his job sound boring, or made him a little intimidating. Lachlan felt they were helping the country and he wasn't really doing anything. But Beate didn't make him feel intimidated. She was actually rather nice, and he sensed a hint of flirting from her. Though he could be wrong."I could imagine"[/color] he spoke to her comment about it being exciting.

Lachlan noticed she was interested when he spoke of photography. Maybe she was a fellow photographer or she just liked to look at them. He wasn't sure but he liked that she seemed more interested then when he talked about his actual job."Singing aye? I bet you have a lovely set of pipes"[/color] he spoke with a wink "I myself cannot sing, and nor do I want to try"[/color] he spoke with a light laugh.

"Drive people mad? Now how can a girl like you drive people mad?"[/color] he asked with another grin. "You should still sing for fun, even though you can't make a career out of it"[/color] he spoke with another smile. "Was it your passion?"[/color] he asked curiously and soon realizing he was talking a little too much he stopped and relaxed in his chair.

Word Count: El No Counto XD
Music: Su quiza Su Tal Vez Nek
Notes: Sorry this took so long D:
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[BEATE-MAREN McCANN]

“Oh, what you do is just as important as any other job.” Bea cut in, “After all, cultures and art need to be preserved, and they need to be kept in such a way as to allow people to learn from them.” She elucidated, sounding to her own mind rather involved in making this point – how odd, to seem serious to oneself when that was precisely what you thought of as being an avoidable trait. Luckily, Lachlan altered the tone of their exchange and these analytical thoughts were chased away like clouds after rain.

The wink, tagged onto the end of the brazen compliment, made her dissolve into a fit of laughter – earning her a heated glare from a nearby researcher, one which she caught in her peripheral vision. Her expression became appropriately contrite as Bea made a conciliatory gesture of acknowledgment in his general direction, and this appeared to satisfy the academic, who bent his head over his work once more. Bea made a playful shushing gesture to Lachlan, just to remind him that he too should know better: after all, he was an employee!

“Oh nonsense, everyone can sing.” She stage-whispered to him, valiantly trying to hold back more laughter, the lowering of her voice a continued attempt to keep peace with the other, less conspicuous denizens of the library. After some consideration, a far-away look present in her eyes, an answer to the question of ‘passion’ was eventually forthcoming. “It was, I suppose.” Bea conceded with a good-natured shrug; it could be classed as her passion, it was just that it had many others to compete with on that level. The young woman was one of those who flitted from pastime to pastime, learning from each one, but also being a bit of a jack-of-all-trades in that she mastered none. Music, singing, was the only exception to this rule – and part of her suspected (quite logically) that this was merely due to the fact that it was in her blood, and thus as inescapable as breathing.

“Is photography yours?” she enquired in return – though of course there was nothing to say that something completely different fired his imagination.

[LACHLAN BALLARD]

It's like a book elegantly bound but,
in a language that you can't read.
Just yet.

"Ah a good point you have there" Lachlan spoke with a smile as he looked up at her. Her reassurance made him feel better about his job, but of course he was only joking about his job. He loved it and knew it was an important job to have, to which he was also lucky to have. When he winked at her, laughter escaped from her lips and his eyebrows rose, soon chuckles left his lips too.

He was soon quiet when he remembered where exactly they were and he put his index finger to his lips as he in turn told her to be quiet playfully. "I assure you, I cannot sing, it's horrible its like a screeching owl"

[/color] he spoke with a big grin and a small chuckle. His hands clasped together as he continued to lean back in his chair and put his hands in his lap. "Yes it is actually I enjoy it more then I get money for it"[/color] he spoke with a wave of his hand. He didn't care about the money it was just for enjoyment.

"But I also enjoy horseback riding, though I don't do much of it now..."[/color] he spoke, with a light shrug. "Anyway"[/color] he spoek gently as his steel blue eyes looked back up at her.

Word Count: I didn't count this time D:
Music: -
Notes: Sorry it took so long D:
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[THE STAFF]

Closed out of respect of Sue's absence.
Closed on: 2011 June 20 by The Staff