Living With Longaevi
I have not really taken the time on this blog to put forward a full and complete report on the Longaevi in terms of their personal disposals. I don't know why I should feel compelled to do so, except that such descriptions form a part of every well-told narrative, especially those of the Robinson Crusoe sort, and I have been reading a lot of 19th-century writing lately. This accounts, no doubt, for the variance in style which I find it my duty to lay before you on this occasion.
With respect to this particular flock, then, I will give some indications of their arrangements. I begin with their chief, of course.
It pleases Paradoxus to inhabit the small cupboard in my desk, which is placed exactly in the center, being below the bookshelves and above the drawers, in the middle of my writing space. He is very proud of the carved door with its small knob, and has fitted up the interior according to his own fancy, appropriating for the purpose wisps of soft grass, fragrant herbs from the garden, a mounted butterfly--this he denominates his "hunting trophy"--and a bit of candle for his late-night ponderings. When Paradoxus wants to read, he requires me to take down a book for him and lay it flat on the desk surface below his cupboard door, which measures perhaps six inches square, so that he may lie on his stomach and read. Sometimes he is interested enough to walk about on the page and make comments to me or to one of his siblings, but I do not permit him to mark the pages. If I let him, he would underline (by means of his feet, ink-coated for the purpose) every other word of some volumes.
Posy, I have told you, lives in the jewelry box. She prefers it because of its pink velvet lining, and because the bright little ornaments themselves please her. This is true to such an extent that I have betimes been forced to warn her sternly against wearing a ring as a crown, for they are of silver and heavy, and would hurt her dear silly head.
Litotes, my marshwiggle, lives in the side table shaped like a stack of books, for it has a lid that opens on a hinge, and there is a cave-like dark space inside, rather, I imagine, like the interior of the Trojan Horse. He has transported thither a quantity of paper and a pen which I shortened for his convenience. In order to force a little light and air upon him, and also for his safety, I have forbidden the use of candles in that nest. He is thus reduced to propping the lid open, which circulates the stifling air a little, at least, and gives him all the light he could require.
There is a glass-and-carved-wood cabinet on my dresser, containing two shelves, perfume, and the four colored goblets. This is Simile's place. She sleeps in one goblet--the blue, of course--and keeps her things in the others, making curious boxes of their cup-hollows by covering them with decorated paper lids. Her "garden" on the second "floor" is laid out around the alabaster-and-silver perfume bottle, with its stopper depicting a fairy plunged in thought. Simile keeps tiny plants alive in a sort of garden bed around this, and has even contrived a miniature fountain.
The Twins live, unimaginatively but well, in an unused desk drawer lined with warm, bright cotton scraps. They are seldom in it, preferring the back-yard to everything else. I let them out by the window every morning, and if they come back before I am in bed, I do not know it. Indeed, in this weather, they are frequently out all night. I allow this because I cannot really prevent it, because Paradoxus seems to feel no anxiety for them, and because they are conscientious about showing themselves to me at least once a day, so that I know they are well.
Chiasmus' disposals are more complicated, of course, but I am not permitted to see them for fear of disturbing their orderly splendor. He requested, and was given, the upper closet shelf. What he does there I do not know, and am half afraid to ask, though I sometimes hear him murmuring to himself about composition and pigments. This leads me to suspect that he spends his time in the painting of elaborate murals, probably geometric, from his comments. They are no doubt supreme examples of symmetry and balance.
I hope that I have given my readers some further satisfaction by these particulars.
With respect to this particular flock, then, I will give some indications of their arrangements. I begin with their chief, of course.
It pleases Paradoxus to inhabit the small cupboard in my desk, which is placed exactly in the center, being below the bookshelves and above the drawers, in the middle of my writing space. He is very proud of the carved door with its small knob, and has fitted up the interior according to his own fancy, appropriating for the purpose wisps of soft grass, fragrant herbs from the garden, a mounted butterfly--this he denominates his "hunting trophy"--and a bit of candle for his late-night ponderings. When Paradoxus wants to read, he requires me to take down a book for him and lay it flat on the desk surface below his cupboard door, which measures perhaps six inches square, so that he may lie on his stomach and read. Sometimes he is interested enough to walk about on the page and make comments to me or to one of his siblings, but I do not permit him to mark the pages. If I let him, he would underline (by means of his feet, ink-coated for the purpose) every other word of some volumes.
Posy, I have told you, lives in the jewelry box. She prefers it because of its pink velvet lining, and because the bright little ornaments themselves please her. This is true to such an extent that I have betimes been forced to warn her sternly against wearing a ring as a crown, for they are of silver and heavy, and would hurt her dear silly head.
Litotes, my marshwiggle, lives in the side table shaped like a stack of books, for it has a lid that opens on a hinge, and there is a cave-like dark space inside, rather, I imagine, like the interior of the Trojan Horse. He has transported thither a quantity of paper and a pen which I shortened for his convenience. In order to force a little light and air upon him, and also for his safety, I have forbidden the use of candles in that nest. He is thus reduced to propping the lid open, which circulates the stifling air a little, at least, and gives him all the light he could require.
There is a glass-and-carved-wood cabinet on my dresser, containing two shelves, perfume, and the four colored goblets. This is Simile's place. She sleeps in one goblet--the blue, of course--and keeps her things in the others, making curious boxes of their cup-hollows by covering them with decorated paper lids. Her "garden" on the second "floor" is laid out around the alabaster-and-silver perfume bottle, with its stopper depicting a fairy plunged in thought. Simile keeps tiny plants alive in a sort of garden bed around this, and has even contrived a miniature fountain.
The Twins live, unimaginatively but well, in an unused desk drawer lined with warm, bright cotton scraps. They are seldom in it, preferring the back-yard to everything else. I let them out by the window every morning, and if they come back before I am in bed, I do not know it. Indeed, in this weather, they are frequently out all night. I allow this because I cannot really prevent it, because Paradoxus seems to feel no anxiety for them, and because they are conscientious about showing themselves to me at least once a day, so that I know they are well.
Chiasmus' disposals are more complicated, of course, but I am not permitted to see them for fear of disturbing their orderly splendor. He requested, and was given, the upper closet shelf. What he does there I do not know, and am half afraid to ask, though I sometimes hear him murmuring to himself about composition and pigments. This leads me to suspect that he spends his time in the painting of elaborate murals, probably geometric, from his comments. They are no doubt supreme examples of symmetry and balance.
I hope that I have given my readers some further satisfaction by these particulars.
posted by Praelucor at 11:34 AM
2 Comments:
A little satisfaction but... not much. This is an excellent personality description, but what about physical characteristics? (Or are the Longaevi entirely spiritual entities?) What do they look like? If I were to meet one, how would I recognize him/her/it? What exactly are they? Maybe you explained once and I missed it... highly probable. As it is, I am becoming ever more curious.
And I am entirely unable to call you silly, considering I talk to my car, my computer, my plants, and my cell phone Whimsy. It is the lit major's prerogative to personify everything :). - Thacia
I must admit, I did find this description quite interesting. As for lit majors personifying, however, I myself am a lit major. The only object I own that I have named, so far as I can recall, is my car - which is unromantically entitled "Thing." And that only because when I first bought it and was nursing it along, I would frequently plead, "Come on, Thing!" And I am beginning to think more and more that my car actually does possess a personality. :D
Anyway, your Longaevi are somewhat charming, if still enigmatic, as Lisa says.
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