[There your character is, minding their own business, doing whatever it is they do in the mid-morning, when an old man with a long beard, bushy eyebrows, and a pointy hat, leaning on a large stick wanders over. There's a genial air about him, and a bit of a smile tugs at his lips, a twinkle in the eye as if he's laughing at some private joke. In a way, he rather fits the environment - at least the bits of it that are still missing color, anyway - as his clothing and hair are quite grey themselves, but he likes it that way. Nothing wrong with plain, understated garments! It makes it easy if he has to patch it up here, anyway.
None of that is really important, however. No, what is important is that the old man - he rather looks like a wizard, doesn't he? With that beard and that hat and that staff - is smiling just a little, as he addresses your character with a nod.]
Good morning!
[Why, this almost feels like the start of an adventure! ... well, if your character is up for it, anyway. Perhaps a Cockatrice hunt or an expedition into the forest. Or maybe it's nothing at all and he's simply observing the state of this allegedly good morning; it probably won't stay good for long.]
B: What curious books!
[Smoke drifts by, carrying the sweet scent of smoldering pipeweed. Or well, sort of. There's not a lot of wind today so mostly it just curls upward in a thin trail from someone seated on a bench in a more publicly accessible garden in the Flavo district.]
Dear me.
[The someone in question is Gandalf, and he sits comfortably, smoking a pipe and leafing through one of the wonderful books given in reward for an earlier completed job. The rather thick book has a red cover, but the way it is propped in his lap hides the name (just as well as he has many names, and there's no guarantee the one on the spine is the one by which he introduced himself). However, the crayon drawings are readily visible enough as he flips through them.
The first few pages are full of what look like rainbow vomit with several stick figures that might possibly be singing in a choir? One of the stick figures is very black and very read and very angry looking and might be yelling at the others? Maybe? Also there's a spider or ... something? Whatever, it's weird.
Gandalf seems to recognize what's going on, in any case, and he frowns at the book, clearly perplexed and deep in thought. The page he's on now near the very end has a mountain and a big red dragon (and lots of other colors to make it fun!) breathing fire and smoke, and a bunch of tiny people on the ground that have swords and things totally out of proportion with themselves. Some of them have pointy ears and some of them have sharp teeth and some of them are very very small. It seems to be a battle, at least going by the next several pages.]
Ah, what a perilous day that was...
[ Absently, he breathes out some smoke of his own, idly tracing the line of the dragon with one finger. ]
But still no clue as to the author.
[Gandalf continues to mumble to himself as he goes through the book, but feel free to interrupt - whether about the book or the smoking. Just don't run off with his staff, which is leaning against the bench beside him. It would be cruel to deprive an old man of his walking stick!]
((Got a different idea? Go for it! I'm pretty open to suggestion :3))
Gandalf the Grey | The Lord of the Rings | color: red of some kind
[There your character is, minding their own business, doing whatever it is they do in the mid-morning, when an old man with a long beard, bushy eyebrows, and a pointy hat, leaning on a large stick wanders over. There's a genial air about him, and a bit of a smile tugs at his lips, a twinkle in the eye as if he's laughing at some private joke. In a way, he rather fits the environment - at least the bits of it that are still missing color, anyway - as his clothing and hair are quite grey themselves, but he likes it that way. Nothing wrong with plain, understated garments! It makes it easy if he has to patch it up here, anyway.
None of that is really important, however. No, what is important is that the old man - he rather looks like a wizard, doesn't he? With that beard and that hat and that staff - is smiling just a little, as he addresses your character with a nod.]
Good morning!
[Why, this almost feels like the start of an adventure! ... well, if your character is up for it, anyway. Perhaps a Cockatrice hunt or an expedition into the forest. Or maybe it's nothing at all and he's simply observing the state of this allegedly good morning; it probably won't stay good for long.]
B: What curious books!
[Smoke drifts by, carrying the sweet scent of smoldering pipeweed. Or well, sort of. There's not a lot of wind today so mostly it just curls upward in a thin trail from someone seated on a bench in a more publicly accessible garden in the Flavo district.]
Dear me.
[The someone in question is Gandalf, and he sits comfortably, smoking a pipe and leafing through one of the wonderful books given in reward for an earlier completed job. The rather thick book has a red cover, but the way it is propped in his lap hides the name (just as well as he has many names, and there's no guarantee the one on the spine is the one by which he introduced himself). However, the crayon drawings are readily visible enough as he flips through them.
The first few pages are full of what look like rainbow vomit with several stick figures that might possibly be singing in a choir? One of the stick figures is very black and very read and very angry looking and might be yelling at the others? Maybe? Also there's a spider or ... something? Whatever, it's weird.
Gandalf seems to recognize what's going on, in any case, and he frowns at the book, clearly perplexed and deep in thought. The page he's on now near the very end has a mountain and a big red dragon (and lots of other colors to make it fun!) breathing fire and smoke, and a bunch of tiny people on the ground that have swords and things totally out of proportion with themselves. Some of them have pointy ears and some of them have sharp teeth and some of them are very very small. It seems to be a battle, at least going by the next several pages.]
Ah, what a perilous day that was...
[ Absently, he breathes out some smoke of his own, idly tracing the line of the dragon with one finger. ]
But still no clue as to the author.
[Gandalf continues to mumble to himself as he goes through the book, but feel free to interrupt - whether about the book or the smoking. Just don't run off with his staff, which is leaning against the bench beside him. It would be cruel to deprive an old man of his walking stick!]
((Got a different idea? Go for it! I'm pretty open to suggestion :3))