nevermore_logs | (no subject)

Who: Edgar Allan Poe, Lewis Carroll, and Jacob Grimm
What: Dead Writer's club
When: Monday
Where: The Diogenes Club
Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism, TBD

Despite all the grumbling he did, Edgar was oddly fond of the Raven that kept following him around. And as very few clubs besides the Diogenes allowed such birds, it was often he went there when he was in the mood to be a social drinker. At least he had the excuse of not drinking alone then. That and the soft buzz of conversation helped push back the loneliness he tended to feel. It wasn't as bad here, New York didn't hold as many memories, but it still happened.

Some of it was because people remembered him as a lonely soul, surrounded by little more then his stories and the memory of what he'd lost. The other part was that he often felt old, and the world around him tended to confuse him.

So he'd found refuge in being surrounded by others like him and paused in his writing every so often to feed the Raven some of the meat. He'd had it better then before. He was able to keep a roof over his head with his editing job, and could continue his own writing. He still wished to run his own newspaper, but he knew that the printed news wasn't as popular anymore. So he was throwing the idea of a blog around in his head, but it seemed an idea that was perhaps a bit too popular.

He knew he'd figure it out in the end. He had plenty of time at the moment.

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"Then I suggest another topic," Charles said with a wink. He had to admit being remembered wrong made him feel morose as well.

He didn't have to search for another topic though. He heard someone call his name and when he looked up, Jacob was heading over to join them. "Charles! Hello, Edgar, great to see you!"

He raised his free hand to Jacob, before using it to shush the bird, who had taken to making noise at Jacob. "Hello Jacob. Hush Lenore." With a sigh he fed it some meat. "The bird apparently thinks it owns this bar. Don't ask. Free to join us?"

Jacob slid into the booth and then smiled at the bird. "Well that would certainly gain us some points in mystique if a bird owned the place," he said with grin.

He gave an amused snort to that. "Don't give the bird ideas. But how are you? Me and Charles have just gotten morose so perhaps you can cheer us up."

"Chaz has an amazing aptitude for that," Jacob joked. "Though I don't know how cheerful I can be. I can tell you about my daughters!" That always made him light up.

He chuckled to that. "To be fair, so do I." He fed the bird another piece of meat before nodding, "yes, how are they?" He was never sure how to feel about kids, but Jacob's little ones sounded adorable.

"Greta is camping out West," Jacob grinned. "And Ella is perfect! Charles comes over occasionally to tell me how perfect she is. She's with her mother today, but she's amazing. I've been reading our fairy tales to her. I missed having children around. Wil's were always around while we were alive. Now I'm the father, but he spends time with them too."

"Must be nice. How old is she now, your youngest?" He'd never had the opportunity to really be a father, even if he wasn't sure about kids. It had proved beneficial, considering he'd have offered them a miserable life. "I'd like to meet her too, if you're alright with that. I'll keep Lenore at home. The bird can be a bit much."