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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