Canon is 'To the Ends of the Earth'

[diarist]

This practice of stepping into another's mind, of observing their habits and character and assuming their persona, all in the aid of a sort of collective storytelling... There is a charm about it, a certain quaintness. One might indeed conceive of it as a 'game,' something with which to fill the long stretch of hours between one occupation and the next, when there is little better to do than stare at the walls...

Yet I can make no claims to being entirely comfortable in the matter. No man could remain unshaken upon the discovery that his life is, in fact, a work of fiction, a tale spun for the entertainment or education of others. Among the blessings of our Lord, the gift of free will looms large... one always hopes that, apart from the responsibilities and duties required of one's station, a man's destiny is his own.

Furthermore, I cannot confess whole-hearted confidence in your abilities as a scribe. You possess a limited knowledge of the etiquette and popular literature of my time, know absolutely nothing of Greek, and appear to struggle in the effort to imitate my mode of speech. Neither have you read the original work in which my so-called 'character' first appeared, although I am begrudgingly relieved to see that you will soon be remedying this.

It would seem I am offered little choice... if you must insist upon confining me to this unusual vessel, so be it. I have only two requests: that you do your utmost to pay respect to the voice you are so determined to appropriate, and to keep in mind my standing as a gentleman.

Comments

[ex_divinely145]

Mine knows a bit of Greek.

[diarist]

Hopefully enough to support whatever knowledge you have?

[ex_divinely145]

Oh, not at all.

You see, I know everything.

[diarist]

An increasingly popular sentiment. There's a man here who falls just short of making a similar claim. His... almost clairvoyant knowledge is made all the more disturbing by the fact that he shares my face. I'm certain the two of you would have much to talk about.

[wealldosillythings]

[Molly's just going to stare a little bit. Possibly with her mouth open - she's not dumb, this is clearly NOT Sherlock, but really, the physical resemblance is uncanny. She's not sure she'll ever get used to these sorts of things]

[waspromisedcake]

[Chell rolls her eyes. Really, was all that necessary?]

You talk too much.

[diarist]

[The open staring unsettles him a little, and without her offering her hand, or anyone around to properly introduce them, there's a moment - however brief - where he doesn't know what to do about it.

However, Sherlock's up in this headspace, too, so Edmund at least has a guess as to why she's staring.

He clears his throat quietly, hoping that will help her remember her voice.]

Miss--? [Looking for a name, here.]

[wealldosillythings]

[It's just enough to snap her out of her staring trance, and she quickly returns to reality, timidness and all] O-Oh! I'm sorry, I'm being rude, aren't I? I-I'll just go or..

[She presses her lips together in thought before she realizes that just leaving isn't very nice, either] Erm, Molly. Molly Hooper.

[diarist]

My only aim was to make my position clear.

[waspromisedcake]

It's clear. Abundantly.

[A pause.]

You're from the past?

[diarist]

Miss Hooper.

[He offers her a polite smile. She's pretty enough, if overabundantly timid and lacking in social graces. Not that he'd say so to her face.

Not Sherlock, indeed.]

Is there something shocking about my face, Miss Hooper?

[diarist]

Indeed, it may be the past to some - however, speaking from my own perspective, I could not call it so.

[Still going for politeness here, but it's getting increasingly difficult since she's so unpleasant. And appears to be dressed only in her undergarments. A fact which Edmund might appreciate more if it weren't for the aforementioned unpleasantness.]

[waspromisedcake]

No, I guess not. I'm from your future.

[The politeness has too many words attached. She likes straight facts that aren't tied up with ribbons.]

[diarist]

So it would seem.

It is a time when -- brevity is valued above all else?

[waspromisedcake]

It's valued highly to me.

I was in a place where I didn't want to be. I decided not to give my captors the satisfaction of an answer. It carries over, because it's what I'm used it.

[There, long enough for you, purple prose man?]

[diarist]

That doesn't explain why you should be angry with me for an overuse of words. [Checks himself. Remember she's a lady, Edmund.] Although if you wish, it, I -- [And again. Keep it brief.]

...apologize.

[waspromisedcake]

[She raises a brow.]

You think this is me angry?

[If he wants to see angry... But no. There's no reason for her to. It's unnecessary.]

I'm not angry at you. More... mildly annoyed at your speech.

[diarist]

...Oh.

[A difference in the social contract, then, from one era to the next. He should have known.

Also, don't mind him, he's still busy averting his eyes. Those 'clothes' are doing a very good job at staying close to her curves, and while Edmund finds nothing shocking about the female form... well, he's been trained not to stare unless he's intending to do something about it.]

[waspromisedcake]

Mmm.

[And she really doesn't know what else to say. Conversing with humans isn't something she's done for many years.]

So... I'm Chell.

[lifewithoutrest]

You sound remarkably like an old friend of mine.

[ex_divinely145]

He's human. I'm not.

[diarist]

Edmund Talbot.

[He's awkwarding about a bit himself. Learning how to navigate these new waters, as it were.]

[diarist]

Familiarity born out of coincidence is a common occurrence around these parts. Hopefully the association is a positive one.

[wealldosillythings]

No...w-well, yes, but... not in a bad way, I mean...

You just... look an awful lot like a friend of mine. Colleague, rather. It's...sort of amazing.

[diarist]

[...Not sure if serious.]

Well, if you make a habit of avoiding conversation with mortals, I must also confess to being a mere man.