Introducing Benvolio

[keep_the_peace]

Waking up in a strange bedroom, in a strange house, was bad enough, but then when Benvolio finally made his way to the front door he was greeted by snow outside. Summer might be coming to an end, but it definitely is not snow weather yet, nor is Benvolio dressed for such, in his black silk doublet, black and blue trimmed trunk hose, and black stockings. He does have shoes on, thankfully, though he can't imagine how he would have fallen asleep wearing shoes. It's not like he's had much opportunity to celebrate to the point of blacking out lately, after all.

Regardless, he takes one look at the snow outside and decides to shut the door and instead turn his attention to the table covered in different pamphlets and papers. He has many questions.

Comments

[chariestmaid]

She's surprised to be agreed with, even by another newcomer -- the reasonable, middle-of-the-road voice that might have been her father tells her Ophelia, surely if the world needed a name, wiser men would have devised one already. She nods, then says, "I hope to become more familiar with this place. Looking at the creatures of the forest there, and capturing their image with this device," shyly lifting the camera. "But I have not seen much of the manse here."

[keep_the_peace]

"Capturing their image?" he asks, curious about whatever the device is.

[chariestmaid]

"Ay." She looks down at the lens. "'Tis called a camera. The images that it captures are called photographs."

[keep_the_peace]

"Photographs! Aye, those -- those very realistic portraits! I have seen some." When did he see some? Great question! Probably with Mercutio or something. "This small thing creates them?"

[chariestmaid]

After a moment's hesitation, she takes the camera from around her neck and turns it around. She taps her finger next to the back lens, then says, "This is the viewfinder." She holds the even camera further from herself, offering it for him to take. "Hold it up to your eye and look through it."

[keep_the_peace]

He takes it, being careful in case it is delicate. There's a certain weight to it, which makes him glad he opted for extra caution when taking it from her. Benvolio holds it up as instructed, looking through the small window. "Doth this show what it shall make a picture of?"

[chariestmaid]

"E'en so. It shows what the boundaries of the image will be. And with this --" She lightly touches the focus ring, forgetting for a moment to be mindful of the space between herself and a strange young man. "You choose the image's focus." It's her favorite piece of the camera -- she likes the feel of it turning under her fingers, the way the world blurs and resolves in the viewfinder. She likes controlling what she can see.

[keep_the_peace]

He messes with the focus, watching everything fade in and out, before he asks, "And how does it go from," he motions to the viewfinder, "this," then gestures in a way that indicates a portrait or whatever hanging on the wall, "to a picture?"

[chariestmaid]

"By the shutter button, here." She taps it without pressing it, both deliberate and delicate. "Inside, there is a roll a film ... like a roll of vellum. The picture will be inscribed upon it, invisibly at first." Her eyes flicker over Benvolio's face, as she considers explaining further. "Would you like to see?"

[keep_the_peace]

The more she explains the less he understands, honestly. A demonstration would be helpful. "Ay, if I can."

[chariestmaid]

Ophelia nods. First fishing the canister from her pocket, she withdraws a little roll of developed film and deftly unrolls it -- when she holds it to the light, the pictures shine in stark contrast, semi-translucent and somehow ethereal. Pictures of the family chicken pecking at the morning feed, of an egret with one long, dark leg raised above the water, of the bright flash of a kingfisher with its wings a-blur.

[keep_the_peace]

Benvolio looks at the film, at the tiny images that only appear when there's enough light, bizarre and see-through. "These are..." he can't actually think of a word to describe them with, and just trails off mid-sentence.

[chariestmaid]

"Made of light," she says, using the King's expression. He seemed particularly enraptured by it, whenever he started explaining the chemicals required to develop a photograph. "These pictures represent the positive space, the places where light shines brightest. I also had a copy which showed the negative -- it emphasized the darker corners." This is a lot of explaining, and she feels self-conscious, as if at any moment this boy will start to look bored.

[keep_the_peace]

But Benvolio is listening closely to everything she says, fully amazed by the whole thing. "I would not have imagined such a thing possible."

[chariestmaid]

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy," she says, more confident than ever of its truth. "To make a picture like the one on the wall ... these smaller pictures must undergo an alchemical change. But you should take pictures of your own first. Of whatever catches your eye."

[keep_the_peace]

He blinks. "With -- with your ... device?" If she told him what it is called he has forgotten. "Or are there more of them?"

[chariestmaid]

"Camera," she repeats. "I'm lending it to you."

[keep_the_peace]

"...I am worried it may break if I am responsible for it," he says, with full honesty. He doesn't want to break her camera. It's probably special, since it's so neat.