Matthieu Joly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fliesonfour) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu2013-10-28 06:22 pm
fliesonfour) wrote in tushanshu2013-10-28 06:22 pm
Entry tags:
Video I
['The Emperor' was very odd title for a woman, indeed it was.
When Joly had awoken, a few thoughts had stabbed into his mind all at once. That was merely one of them. The first, vaguely and upon seeing a white mist, was that steam was a sterilizing agent. This memory floated past his dazed mind like the tune of a song stuck in one's head; a little incoherent, but familiar. The second was that he happened to be in a tub, which was a sensible enough place to be, if one hadn't just been upon a barricade.
Were he not so weak of limb (myasthenia? dystrophy?) and fatigued, he might have thought upon that harder. Were it not such a difficult thing to think upon in general; smoke, yelling, and that very distinct smell of-- ...well; he might have made a better effort to fish among the depth of those memories, nervous and worried and ailing as they were.
As it was, by the time the whole of the process were said and done, and he was standing, bemused, among a city he did not know, with a device so odd upon his palm that he quite nearly found it charming, he was ready to recount to any who might be hearing it:]
It's very curious, to lead a Republican life, then to close one's eyes for a nap, and awake in the bathtub of an Empress.
[Keeliai, have a young man in a bloodied shirt with a wince on the lines his face but a smile on his mouth. Despite the alarm he could feel roiling in the pit of his stomach, the anxiety clear in his stare, and his confusion as to the glare of the lights and the thrum of his healing body, he took in the new location with a tamed confusion, and idly went to rub some dust from his coat sleeve in an inborn gesture.]
I have a friend or two who'd be much amused by such a thing! Little ironies, et cetra. The oppression of bathtubs, in which the monarchs feed the people lyes. ...And more who'd be severely dispassionate about the whole matter.
[His voice pitched bit higher than usual, keyed up by concern over the fate of his friends, and his own. Despite it, he managed a good-natured look at the... thing in his hand... at his little joke, before relenting to those who might assist him.]
I might ask if anyone has seen such good friends? A fair place to begin. Decidedly.
My name is Joly; lately of Paris, more recently of Mam'selle Napoleon's receptacle.
[And he'd make a little bow, if he knew what at. Instead, he settles for a nervous smile and another idle rub at a part of his body that, worriedly, is still aching a bit. It's difficult to hold down the panic, but he's hinging; possibly literally!; on some news of a friendly face or two. Or all.]
When Joly had awoken, a few thoughts had stabbed into his mind all at once. That was merely one of them. The first, vaguely and upon seeing a white mist, was that steam was a sterilizing agent. This memory floated past his dazed mind like the tune of a song stuck in one's head; a little incoherent, but familiar. The second was that he happened to be in a tub, which was a sensible enough place to be, if one hadn't just been upon a barricade.
Were he not so weak of limb (myasthenia? dystrophy?) and fatigued, he might have thought upon that harder. Were it not such a difficult thing to think upon in general; smoke, yelling, and that very distinct smell of-- ...well; he might have made a better effort to fish among the depth of those memories, nervous and worried and ailing as they were.
As it was, by the time the whole of the process were said and done, and he was standing, bemused, among a city he did not know, with a device so odd upon his palm that he quite nearly found it charming, he was ready to recount to any who might be hearing it:]
It's very curious, to lead a Republican life, then to close one's eyes for a nap, and awake in the bathtub of an Empress.
[Keeliai, have a young man in a bloodied shirt with a wince on the lines his face but a smile on his mouth. Despite the alarm he could feel roiling in the pit of his stomach, the anxiety clear in his stare, and his confusion as to the glare of the lights and the thrum of his healing body, he took in the new location with a tamed confusion, and idly went to rub some dust from his coat sleeve in an inborn gesture.]
I have a friend or two who'd be much amused by such a thing! Little ironies, et cetra. The oppression of bathtubs, in which the monarchs feed the people lyes. ...And more who'd be severely dispassionate about the whole matter.
[His voice pitched bit higher than usual, keyed up by concern over the fate of his friends, and his own. Despite it, he managed a good-natured look at the... thing in his hand... at his little joke, before relenting to those who might assist him.]
I might ask if anyone has seen such good friends? A fair place to begin. Decidedly.
My name is Joly; lately of Paris, more recently of Mam'selle Napoleon's receptacle.
[And he'd make a little bow, if he knew what at. Instead, he settles for a nervous smile and another idle rub at a part of his body that, worriedly, is still aching a bit. It's difficult to hold down the panic, but he's hinging; possibly literally!; on some news of a friendly face or two. Or all.]
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[A cheekier smile, before he gave a light laugh at the intelligence.]
You both remain unchanged, then!
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[And more glad that the vague innuendo hadn't gone unnoticed.]
Mostly, yes. He moved in when his beloved left the turtle. I'm afraid it took quite a toll on him.
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[Never fail to notice a prime innuendo!]
His beloved? Ah! So it was revealed at last, who his dove was?
[This is a grand distraction, and he is invested in distraction.]
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[He laughs and nods.]
It should seem that he wasn't as mad as we believed him. A lovely young woman, she was, who unfortunately was here only long enough to make it difficult on him when she left.
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Young women are awfully talented at such things. Poor man. How does he hold up?
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Speaking of young women... The things that happen in this place, my friend! They are things beyond your even wildest dreams!
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Pertaining to young women, I hope? And not to dragons. I have had that particular conversation already.
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Jehan and Combeferre as well, among many others around here.
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Excuse me, mon ami?
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[He pauses a beat.]
I found myself a woman for a full week... With the paltry excuse of some magic gone awry as the reasoning. However, I would not stretch the story of this. I doubt my imagination could fathom to.
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[Softly, still trying to find the room in his mind for this latest update.
Now granted, Joly was all for scandal and gossip. But he'd been under the impression that falling from the sky into a bathtub atop a turtle would top the day's charts for curiosities. Between the technology, the mythologic republicans, and the faint nagging memory of what had happened but a moment ago for him, he isn't sure he has exactly the room for this just now.
And yet...]
You found yourself in women's clothing for a week, or-...? Truly, a changed man?
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Truly a changed man... For only a week, mind you...
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[He swallows, then tries to... and the image is something akin to Courfeyrac in a frock, which is as amusing as it is slightly offensive to his sense of taste.
Making a crinkled face, he went directly to the important question here:]
You must give me more, if I am to picture it.
Well-endowed, or flat as a board? And with that hair, surely no. A shocking sort of woman, though all women have their bit of beauty... your feminine charm remains well-hidden, though! Compliments to you. I cannot picture it.
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