Table Eleven at an 1894 Hallowmas Dinner Party

[eleonordonegal]

@Catherine Raymond

&quotI suppose,&quot Lady Catherine replied, &quotthat whether you think the absence of dreams is the worst fate depends upon what your own dreams are like.&quot She shudders, briefly. &quotI suppose one could survive on beer and whisky, though.’

Even Nightmares are useful, especially here, where they can prove prophetic. Unpleasant, but useful.

@pillbox

&quotTo the other note, I’m not sure I agree with an enforced limitation to knowledge - if one doesn’t want a secret to make the rounds, it should not have been committed to paper, and those who kill themselves with dangerous knowledge remove themselves from the equation once they are done. At any rate, there is a better ways to control knowledge than to lock it away like a fairy tale princess (which will surely encourage foolhardy princes to free them), and that is to control the way it is learned&quot

On hearing Pillbox out, Eleonor resumes: &quotI’m afraid I still stand with Vena’s view.&quot She nods to the lady in question, before turning to Pillbox again. &quotI’m not unsympathetic to the idea we must control learning. Recall, I’m a Correspondent by trade, and I hope to blunt the language’s damage to young minds by preventative education. But I recall a recent mishap when an untrained junior reader nicked a book from a Special Constable’s cart. I don’t think I was the least bit wrong in snatching his prize from him. He was beginning to smoulder, after all, hardly giving me time to invite him to Agate House for a class. Some who would die in the pursuit and use of knowledge have little conception of the consequences that may result. I would reduce harm to the innocent, even the foolhardy. We cannot all be intellectuals, living the life of the mind.&quot

…I robbed it once. The Bazaar, I mean. And got caught.&quot He pauses, shuddering at the memory. &quotThank the ceiling stars of the Neath that you’ll never know what that’s like. I can’t tell you: the secret keeps itself. I can only remember.&quot

On hearing this, Eleonor’s face goes blank, while a muscle under her right eye begins to spasm. &quotMirrors…&quot she mumbles. Her gaze falls on her water-filled wine glass. &quotGah!&quot she starts, then throws a nearby napkin atop the glass, covering the thing. She blinks slowly, then seems to return to herself. &quotSorry, sorry. Beg your pardon.&quot

[quote=Eglantine-Fox]The cat has been lurking under the table: a large, black, long-haired creature of great elegance. She climbs up onto an empty chair to regard the table.

&quotI don’t suppose you have any fish?&quot she asks, politely.[/quote]
Oho, wrong festival, I’d say! You should hop a ferry to Mutton Island come next late-summer, my dear. You’ll eat yourself sick!

[li]