A book and a quill and a hand that grips it, slowly forming words on the page. Characters and stories, so full of life that if one reads such a novel, they are quite literally transported inside. The author of such novels, Poe, sits at his desk with Karl perched on his shoulder, tail swishing back and forth.

A knock on the door resonates through his study, Karl letting out a small coo in the direction of the door.

"Yes..?" Poe asks hesitantly, only now looking up from his book, "Come in."