Quiet Pillars
@the-pillar
Virgil wasn’t certain how he managed to come back here. He remembered bent over papers and text, delving into their secret knowledge, and then he blinked, looked up, and realized he was here, sitting on familiar floorboards with rain pattering against the glass.
Valhalla called them his Wanderings. The term was... perhaps apt, if a bit odd.
Slowly the scholar peeled himself off the floor, finding himself without shoes (a common trait, it seemed, in his so-called Wanderings), bare toes chilled against the cool floor. A quick glance around the small home told him Phileas wasn’t in yet, so he carefully put himself to work putting a kettle onto the stove and preparing some tea (it still felt so odd, being left to do as he pleased in another’s home, but Phileas had told him again and again it was quite alright).
A few of his papers had ended up under the kitchen table, while his bag and other things had been left behind. He bent to pick them up, stacking them neatly onto the table before he settled onto a chair, curling knees up so his feet were off the floor as he waited for the water to boil, and perhaps for Phileas to return from his tasks.
He hoped he didn’t mind him turning up uninvited, out of the blue like this.













