Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Go Ahead and Sign The Scroll [Private 1x1]

"Are demon minds and.. gaian minds different somehow?" Bo asked, curiously. "And I think today's Monday." Bo looked around, "I could be wrong. Maybe check the calendar on the wall, it's near the front-door." Bo said. If Othello were to check it, whether it be now, or later, it was indeed monday. And to the studying in books thing, he nodded. "Okay, I can do that, I think."

He focused back on finishing his food and his orange juice.

Though Bo seemed more calm, friendly and happy today, it wasn't entirely true. He was happy to have someone with him, and to have proper food again instead of food scraps from the cultists' meals, and to have proper drinks, instead of the probably muddy water that was drawn from the old, abandoned well outside of the cathedral. But he still hurt, he was still hurt, mentally and psychically.

Bo missed his parents, he even missed his nanny.

He had wounds all over him, scraps and bruises mostly, but the mark on his back was worse than all of them.

But Bo kept a smiling face, even if it was only half a real one. After all, he was thankful Othello was here, helping him, even if he was a bit.. unorthodox for a caretaker.

"Of course they are," Othello said as he rose. "After all, we are raised in very different environments. It is only natural that our minds are different. As to exactly how different, well, I will leave that to the medical professionals and the phylosophers to discuss those details." He waved a hand at Bo's dishes as he walked toward the calendar. "When you are finished, take those to the sink."

He took a moment to examine the calendar and to estimate where they were. Monday. That was not his name for it, but, ah well. Whatever it was called, the day was at the beginning of the week and a working day. Good. A working day meant people would be available for calls. He went back to the kitchen, fetched his own dishes, and set a spell to washing the dishes in the sink while he cleaned the counters and made certain everything was put away.

Then it was on to the study! He would get Bo settled in his studies and then use the computer to search for potential maids. House cleaners. Whatever they were called. There were computers on his world, but they weren't set up the same. It would take him some time and a lot of poking about to figure out even the most basic of information.

Bo found it very interesting, but didn't ask much more, as he felt it might be too complicated to explain. So, he gently got up out of the chair and grabbed his dishes and slowly walked over to put them in the sink.

Bo watched Othello clean the dishes with the spell when he came back from the calendar, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity, finding this demon's powers to be interesting, and honestly felt himself more and more interested of Othello's species. Bo then spoke up, "That was so amazing!" He said, referring to the spells. "I wish I could do that, that would be fun." Bo said warmly.

"Oh, um, studies.. I should be doing those, right?" Bo realized. "I'll need my books, I'm.. not sure where they are though. The library is very big after all. I always got my nanny or my dad to grab the books I needed from the library, especially since my dad knew the entire library like the back of his hand." Bo straightened his black shirt, the one chosen by Othello, in-fact.

"The cleaning spell?" Othello asked absently as he finished putting away the last item. "Yes, it is quite efficient. I do not know about 'fun,' but I suppose anything can be fun. I doubt you can do this style of magic, but I suppose you may give it a try at some point as long as you understand it is unlikely that you can do it. Perhaps you will shock me and prove that you can. I have no idea."

He turned and started walking to the library. "Come along, then, we will find these books together. The library is yours now, so it it time you learned it like the back of your own hand." He subtly glanced at his own hand wondering if he knew his hand that well. Such a silly saying. It wasn't like people wandered around studying their hands and the backs of them.

Bo giggled at the thought of doing spells, but he knew he probably couldn't do it, but still found it fun to think about. He then followed Othello to the library, "I know, I know." Bo said, replying to the learning of the library thing. "It's just so big, and overwhelming!" He waved his hands as if to visually explain the size, even though as small as Bo was, it could never describe the library's size, in-fact, it could hardly describe a closet.

"Nothing is truly overwhelming when taken one piece at a time," Othello told Bo promptly. "Just as you cannot be expected to ascend a staircase in one step, you cannot be expected to overcome a vast problem in one go. You cannot learn the library all at once. I doubt anyone can. No, you start with one shelf. Perhaps a bookcase. Nothing too ambitious to start with, but you do start. Then you take the next shelf, and then the next, until you step back and realize that you have reached the end of the library." He stopped and opened the library door fo Bo. "After you. Now, if you were to put away books for schooling, where do you think you would put them? It is alright if you answer wrongly. It is merely a place to start."

Bo listened, it was a very interesting explaination, and he was comprehending it, until he was asked where he'd put schooling books to put them away and his brain stopped for a moment. "Huh?" Bo blinked. "Uhm, maybe, maybe, near like, the dictionaries and stuff?" Bo pointed over to a small shelf, "But I don't know, those books are awfully thick, my schooling books were a bit thinner."

Othello nodded thoughtfully. "Then I will leave you to find your study books since you know what you are looking for, and I will use this computer to try to find us an employee. If the books are too high, I will help you reach them, but I am certain you will prevail in your mission." He left Bo there and went to the computer. His patience had worn thin, and he was tired of helping out the boy with something so elementary as finding the schooling books he used so often. How coddled could a child possibly get that he didn't even know his own library?

The computer was password locked, but that didn't stop a demon with plenty of magic skills with locks. In no time at all, he was tapping and clicking his way slowly through the vast world of the internet.

Bo nodded, and then looked around for the books. Which would.. honestly, probably take a while.


The computer seemed to belong to the father. The desktop background was a sweet, heartwarming photo of the dad and the mum on their wedding day, the place covered in confetti and surrounded by people and decorations. There were a few softwares, namely a text document editor, a PDF editor, a solitaire game, and a folder tilted "Work Stuff" and if clicked on, had text documents involving work schedules and plans.

The browser had a bunch of bookmarks, some neatly placed in folders, some.. not so much. A lot of online shopping bookmarks, work bookmarks, vacation spot bookmarks for ideas, a few bookmarks dedicated to learning the English language (it seemed that English was not the father's first language) and one bookmark that linked to the social media of a coworker, and if clicked on, it was mainly just pictures of that coworker's pet dog.

But none of these bookmarks had any use, for Othello, what Othello was after, would be the search engines.


Meanwhile, Bo had finally found the books, he grabbed a few and headed out of the library, then wandered to his bedroom, he could be heard humming a silly little tune he heard on a cartoon once (back when the TV worked, you see, a close game of soccer caused a bit of a stink between a visitor and the TV, and a bottle was thrown into it, the TV has been thrown out, but the stand it used to sit on still existed) and he opened the bedroom door and walked in, placing the books on his table.

He sat down and opened them, only for a note to fall out of one. "Hm?" Bo gently picked it up. It was in a very complex, cursive handwriting and he didn't know how to read it too well. Bo shrugged and put it off to the side.

The note, said "proteggere il ragazzo" (Protect the Boy)

Hm.

Bo leaving confused Othello, but he allowed it without a word.  A library was for studying, learning, and reading.  Why would he go elsewhere, and where was he going?  Nothing about this child made any sense.  Oh well.  As long as he did his work and stayed distracted.  Othello had his own work to do.

He was hip-deep in tax documents before he realized he was in the very wrong place.  The next place he looked brought him to the family's financial information.  Now that was useful!  After a bit of experimenting, he figured out that the majority of the house's bills were set to an automatic payment system, and there was a separate account for household purchases that could also be done online.  He would not even have to leave the house to do the grocery shopping!

He finally figured out how to navigate to the search engines and spent a good amount of time trolling through site after site.  He did end up on some sites that would not have been appropriate for Bo to see, but he only scoffed and moved on with efficient speed.  He was not interested in that sort of tomfoolery.  Finally, he located an agency that appeared to have good reviews but with just the right number of bad reviews to convince him it was not a fake.  They had no pictures of their potential employees, but they did have descriptions, and one caught his eye.  He read through all of them but ended up returning to one in particular.  After some careful consideration, he arranged for the house cleaner to come on a trial basis.  A certain amount had to be paid upfront, but if he was not satisfied, nothing else needed to be paid.  That seemed fair.

Feeling stiff and a bit sore from sitting in the same place for so long, Othello went to find Bo to let him know they would be getting a visitor tomorrow.

Bo was sitting at his desk, scribbling at the book, writing down answers, most right, but some wrong.

He heard Othello's footsteps and perked his head up from his book. Then he glanced over the answers, wondering if they were all correct or not, then Bo set down the pencil he was holding in his hand and looked to the doorway.

"The good news is that I have been able to procure the services of a promising female to come and help in our domestic issues," Othello told Bo as he walked in the door. "The moderate news is that I was able to gain access to your family's finances. The bad news is that the numbers mean very little to me as I have no baseline. Still, it is a start." He looked at Bo's books. "Are you doing well with your studies? Shall I look over them with you?"

Bo raised his brows, "So, a housecleaner? I can't wait to meet her."

He looked to his books, then nodded, looking back up at Othello. "Yes, please. I don't know if the answers are correct." The boy tapped the book's page with the palm of his hand. "I was told the answers were in the backs of the books, but I was also told not to look at them as then I can just copy them from there." Bo giggled. "It's tempting." He added. "So, uhm, if you don't know the answers either, it's back there I think!"

"Well done on resisting your natural urges," Othello told him. He picked up the book carefully so as to not pierce the paper with his nails and began to read. "Let us see what if anything I can recognize." He frowned as he looked the answers over. "Hmm." He finally flipped to the back when he wasn't certain on a question. "Hmm."

Finally, he handed it back. "You answered wrongly twice. Can you tell me where you think you may have been misguided?"

Bo waited patiently, watching the nails carefully go across the paper. His mother's fingernails were long, but Othello's was long and sharp, he had never seen sharp, long nails before. Except for on Othello, and he hadn't paid much attention to Othello's hands before, even if he had grabbed it a few times. There was a lot going on yesterday and Bo's focus was definitely not that.

Bo then received the book back. "Well, uhm.. Maybe I calculated those answers wrong? I tried to count in my head, but I think something got jumbled up along the way from my mind to my writing." Bo nervously laughed. "Big numbers are harder to use your fingers to count with. Since, y' only have ten fingers."

"And the reason you could not and did not write out your numbers on paper would be...?" Othello asked with a raised brow.  "Holding numbers in one's mind is the mental equivalent to the physical strain of lifting heavy objects.  Very few people can do so with little to no training.  That is why most teachers encourage you to write these things down on paper, child.  Not to mention, method is important.  You cannot run out of fingers when using paper."  He indicated some blank space on the workbook.  "You may use this or extra paper in the future.  That will help you keep things straight.  Now, this is the question you marked wrongly, as was this one.  Allow me to see how you did the work."

Othello bent over, frowning seriously as he watched Bo work.  This was different than what he was used to, but it was close enough to follow.  He continued working with Bo for another half an hour until he was weary of the work and indicated for Bo to put it away. 

"It is time to exercise our physical bodies.  Is there a space outdoors that is protected?  I believe it is called a 'yard?'"

Bo listened to the explanation. "Oh, well, my nanny said it was a bad idea, because it would mess the workbook up." Bo said calmly, "But I'll get an extra paper next time to do so."

Bo then nodded his head, and began showing Othello how he did it.. This, amongst other discussion of his work, went on for half an hour, and Bo was told to put the studies away. "Mhm, my mum called it a garden though, but I think it's called a yard as well?" Bo stood up from his desk.

"There's a bunch of pretty flowers out there." Bo said, putting his hands together, a soft smile on his face. "Follow me, I'll show you." Bo then walked out of the bedroom, and made his way through the house, occassionally looking back to see if Othello was following, and then opened the front door, and beckoned Othello again, before turning the corner of the large house, then after walking a little ways in-between the house and the hedges pressed against the brick wall, there revealed a large, backyard, with many pretty flowers such as roses, bluebells and many others.

There was many statues too, some of rearing horses, one of a lion standing proudly, and a few statue women holding urns that poured out water, they were probably functioning as a small, decorative fountain.

Othello looked around, his twitching from all the flower scents. Objectively, the garden was a thing of beauty. To him, it was crowded and tacky. Why were there so many statues? Why was there so little room to move? What was the point of being outdoors if you had to fear from the man-made bushes? He sighed and then nearly sneezed but caught himself in time.

"I see," he said dourly, hating all the bright colors and scents. "Very flowery. Very well, if this is what we have to work with, off you go." He waved a hand at Bo. "Run and move about. Perform physical activities of movement."

Bo looked confused for a moment, but he decided to walk around the yard some. At first, it was just kind of mindlessly, without a goal, but then he saw a butterfly and decided to run around and chase that thing around.

Aside from all the flower scents, the air was quite clean and was a nice weather, though the sun didn't shine awfully much, as clouds commonly stayed in the sky. The butterfly floated over to around Othello, and Bo went to try and chase it, only to trip on his own two feet. Whether Othello caught him or not was, well, up to Othello. Either way, whether Bo was caught before he fell, or faceplanted into the grass, the butterfly got away.

Othello clicked his fingernails together. Bo landed on a soft cushion of air that held him for a brief second before allowing him to fall a little more slowly the rest of the way. "The flying bug has escaped, but that was a noble effort," the demon told the boy soberly. "You may try again once more, and then we shall return indoors for food. It is nearing the midday mark. After food, I suggest a little more study, and then leisure time is a must. Do you agree?"