theodor_gylden | Thunder, Wells, and Saturn (Reply)

EmilyStAubert. Hello. So, do you know when we are likely to find out What Thunder Said? Respectfully yours, E St A
Cups. The thing about thunder. There's never enough of it. Do you understand me? We have a drum. If you beat the drum, what then?
EmilyStAubert. I drew my long black hair out tight
Baby-faced bats! Soooo cute
Cups. There will be none of that. We had enough of that in Egypt. But you are correct. The bat is a creature maligned by the stupid
Dagadadagada. Egypt? Can it be you aprove of such a place?
Cups. Young man, are you needling me? I dislike needles.
Dagadadagada. indeed not, sir. I merely wished to know your opinion of the place. I am sorry should my tone have offended.
Cups. Again and again you raise the matter. I don't choose to be reminded of it. None of us do.
Dagadadagada. Again, I apologise. Is there anything I can do to atone for my grevious error?
Cups. Work hard for the enrichment of the Bazaar, and us all. Shun seditionists. Practice courtesy & honesty.

Dagadadagada. Sir, my dreams are filled with images of burning rivers and books eaten by flame. What could this mean?
Fires. You've happened on a battleground, old thing. Don't take sides, whatever you do.
Dagadadagada. I thank you for your advice. Still the dreams continue. Paper looses to flames.
Fires. Dreams are always a choice, eh? Why are you choosing to dream about fire?

Agentlex. Mr Pages, a query for you that I fear the other Masters may not answer me: what do you know of the city of Alexandria?
Pages. A mean and inferior location. I'd not even do it the courtesy of writing its name.
Agentlex. I would have thought you would admire its great library of legend.
Pages. Hmph. It wasn't *that* good.

Lifegospel. So, do you know of any good books I should read? I recently ran out of reading materials. So I thought I would come to you.
Pages. I, myself, am most partial to the scrivenables of the first Baron Lytton. His words will outlast us all. Well, not me. But you.
Lifegospel. I don't suppose you'd be able to give me the title of a book about Mr Eaten? He interests me greatly.
Pages. It would crack my brittle heart to see you waste time on so trivial an old shade. Seek more fruitful excursivities, for my sake.
Lifegospel. and why is that? It's not as if I'll lose my sanity from learning about it. If I lose my soul, I wasn't doing much with it anyways
Pages. You are tragically erroneous. On both counts. But more important than either is the loss of time, a thing our delicious customers are allotted so little of. Oh, cruel fortune, to have made you so brief! I find myself quite upset. *Quite* upset.
Lifegospel. Well, then I apologize for upsetting you
Pages. No, no...forgive a sentimental old fool his over-tender heart. It's only that we care so very ravenously for our customers...

Spices. To be plain. Mr Eaten is a deceitful remnant, no more. We regret its fall, but nothing it says is to be trusted.
Lafinj. I beg elaboration: What exactly is Mr Eaten a remnant of?
Spices. A criminal recreant.
EmilyStAubert. But what does it say about you?
Spices. All kinds of nonsense, I should think.

Caladris. If I may be so bold, why are we delicious?
Wines. You are delicious, dear child, because you fulfill our appetites most pleasingly.

Agentlex. Do you know anything of the Correspondence? Besides the ubiquitous rumours, of course. Where might I study its origin?
Pages. [a long pause from Mr Pages] They say if your hand writes even one word in the Correspondence it acquires an untrustworthy life of its own. I myself prefer the polite strokes and curves of the Latin alphabet. Less troublesome, on the whole.
Awakeasaurusrex. is the Correspondence available for consultation at your library?
Pages. Ah. No. The pursuance of words has never been a safe pastime, but we must have *some* regard for the safety of our readers.
Dagadadagada. Are you saying The Correspondance is a language or alphabet?
Pages. I am only a humble custodian of forgotten vowels and unloved consonants. I'm sure my wild guesses would only waste the valuable time of bold seekers.
Agentlex. Do you know where I would go to find said bold seekers? And perhaps become one?
Pages. Yes.
Agentlex. Could you please tell me?
Pages. I am not a circulating library, sir. I'm not sure I can imagine the sum for which I would be prepared to part with that knowledge.
Dearest, most nutritious of customers. I am flattered positively scarlet by the regard in which some of you hold my mean opinion. However, the Bazaar teaches many lessons in its care for us. One is foremost. Answer me this: what is the secret of a secret?
When you tell a secret, it dies. Think of the secrets, my dears. Think of the secrets.

Hearts. I wish you'd all stop selling your skin to Mr Eaten, my dears. He doesn't have the least idea what to do with it.
Jelloarm. Quite emphatic as to that - are you any more open to discussion than your comrades as to why he's in a well?
Hearts. A well? The very idea. He's where he needs to be, and you shouldn't worry your pretty head about it.
Jelloarm. I appreciate the compliment, but persistent rumors state that people have heard him speak from a well. I'd investigate, sir...
Hearts. I hear Miolan-Carvalho in my phonograph, but I think it unlikely she lives in the cylinder, dear boy.
Diszaster. No? what should be done with our skins, then, Mr Hearts? I am curious your thoughts--you do seem like a Master after my own errr.... <3
Hearts. You should wear your own skins, my dears. But if after your death you choose to will them to me, I'm sure I'd find a tasteful use
Diszaster. Because of my debts, Mr Hearts, I'm afraid it'll bear the name of Mr Eaten...which causes me no small amount of consternation I'm afraid.
Hearts. ah, a pity. We'll need to have it burned, then. In the meantime, I'm sure we can advise you on a reducing diet

Smifli. Do you remember the sun? I barely do, it seems broken...
Pages. I'd say my acquaintance with it is predominantly literary. Look to books, my little inkblot, where we pin memories like butterflies.

BrigitJ. Might a lady enquire as to how she may seek an interview with regards to employment?
Veils. What form of employment did you have in mind? Are you skilled with a needle? With dyes? With a hempen noose?
BrigitJ. hemp is so... common. Why not silk? I've even heard of it stopping bullets.
Veils. Ah, silk! My utmost and utterly favourite example of vermiform excrement! What use do you propose to put it to?
BrigitJ. my father possessed armor made entirely of it, strong enough to stop a knife. I propose a business venture to sell similar suits.
Veils. I suspect you of listening to one too many traveller's tales. No matter! Your stories are charming.

Veils. Mr Spices, Sinning Jenny, I refuse to be dragged into your revolting seductions! Mr Wines, our arrangement remains as it always ever was.
Wines. All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
Jenny. Poppet. Please don't be cross with me. You know it's just my way. We can come to an arrangement between ourselves, I hope?
Veils. I am *never* cross. I am a ray of stolen sunshine! But you must know, madam, that your charms are not suited to such as me.
PreachyPreach. Are you, perhaps, sir, of the Uranian persuasion then?
Veils. Not for the longest of times. We are all Saturn's children now. Have a care.
PreachyPreach. Does that mean you are afraid of what Mr Eaten might do?
Veils. Mr Eaten is the shadow of a sliver of a regret! Do not concern yourself with him.
TheMakingSpace. Saturn's children? do you Devour Liberty, Prosperity and Virtue?
I am particularly fond of Francisco Goya's interpretation of the myth!
Veils. We are all of us, and you too, so very subterranean. Wealthy. And delicious.
I flatter myself I have a cameo role in one of that series. Ah, Madrid. What might have been. No matter. All shall be well..

Leenieth. My dear Mr Spices and Mr Wines, for the sake of enlightened discussion and a bout of insomnia: what is the nature of a dream?
Wines. We consider the nature of dreams to be desire. Of all things, we seek to understand desire most completely.
Spices. Disregard Mr Wines. The nature of dreams is the distillation of experience: the secret avenues of knowledge.
Leenieth. If dreams are desire, then would a bad dream potentially be a manifestation of a destructive, subconscious desire?
Wines. We consider it likely that the less enjoyable dreams occur due to a lack of desire's fulfillment. Such denial is unhealthy.
Leenieth. Then what would be the inability to recall a dream? Or is that perhaps part of the point of a dream?
Wines. Before a desire is sated, it is everything. Afterward, it is nothing.
Leenieth. A most insightful answer, thank you. I shall endeavor to further pursue these elusive dreams. Hopefully with success.

100_indecisions. My sleep is troubled by strange dreams of fire--I can make no sense of them, but I am sure they mean *something*. Can you help?
Wines. Most dreams are of the nature of a desire. Some, however... no. We are hardly qualified to speak upon such matters.

RykarMalkus. Mr Spices or Mr Wines ... who truly controls the business of dreams?
Wines. In truth it is the dreamers themselves. We merely facilitate and supply. Dream hard, delicious friend, dream long.