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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, DECENT_JEWEL. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 3019.03.15.03 * DECENT_JEWEL has joined 3019.03.15.03 <DECENT_JEWEL> This is the address of Faramir son of Denethor, late Captain of Gondor. <DECENT_JEWEL>** If you would speak with me, then seek me out; I am readily available for the most part. Yet if that does not suit your needs, then leave a message here, and I shall reply when I am able.

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From:

youngtimer

The Academy comprises an entire city block, and the center courtyard, though open to the elements, is quiet. But so is the inside: only a hint of the classical music from the living room drifting into the foyer as Horatio opens the door.

"Hey, Faramir. Glad you could make it. Come on in, take a load off. ... You did the whole walk on foot, I'm guessing? How long did that take you?

Edited (too many 'take's) Date: 2022-09-21 03:18 am (UTC)

From:

nearamir

Faramir edges through the door, cautious of his bulk, and into the foyer beyond. It is, he notes as though from a distance, a very fine place, and one he takes a liking to at once.

"I set out as soon as the sun allowed." So, at sunset. It still hurts, to be made a creature of the night, to be driven into shadowed and darkened places like the beasts he has so long fought. It is a stinging reminder, every day, of what has been done to him. "It is not so far, but I am afraid a little further than I had accounted for. Still, I have made it." This with a small smile. "Where shall I leave my cloak?"

From:

youngtimer

"I'm sorry," Horatio said, reaching out to take his cloak from him. "It completely slipped my mind that trolls are nocturnal. I only know one, and we mostly talk over the network, so ..."

He shrugged, moving across the lobby toward a coat rack in the corner. "Come on in, though, have a seat. You want something to drink? Coffee, tea, maybe something stronger?"

From:

nearamir

Faramir smiles gently, a little wryly, as though to say It is what it is. "I do not know enough about every manner of monster," he remarks, passing over his cloak with a little nod, "to ever expect that another would remember all the matters of my own. Though if I had been more thoughtful, I might have told you I would be late."

His toeless, hoof-like feet tap softly against the floor as he heads deeper into the building, taking a seat as invited. "I would take wine, if you have it. If not, then tea will more than serve. Thank you."