tushanshu | Verse 01

[The feed opens up on a...pretty beat up redhead. Dried blood, bruises starting to form, cuts and scrapes, everything short of bullet wounds, really.

Those were healed before he woke up.

It takes a second for him to realize that he got it to start recording and he blushes a bit. Not that you can tell with all the bruising and whatnot, but. He looks like any beat-up 19th century Frenchman: dirty, bloody shirt, bloody blue waistcoat...basically, he didn't bother to clean up before figuring out this console.

When he speaks, his voice is fairly soft and he's terribly awkward, and not just because he's talking into a box]

The gentleman who brought me here said I could use this...device to contact others in the city. Does...is anyone else here from Paris? If so, are you familiar with Les Amis de l'ABC? My name is Jehan--Jean, but I prefer Jehan--Prouvaire, and I need to know if I'm the only one of us here. If I am not, could you please direct me to my friends?

[Don't ask if he wants to be alone here or not. He couldn't tell you]

I also need a doctor, please. I don't think I am in any danger of dying now, but I would rather not risk it.

Ah...thank you.

[[ooc: for those of you not familiar with French, "Jehan" does has a different sound than "Jean"]]

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[Thank you, kind monsieur. Jehan shifts a little, still awkward]

I am worried they'll become infected or worse if left untreated.

[Alcuin sympathizes. Being recorded in a bloody suit of clothes just after your death is not easy.]

Mine have been all right, but it is likely best to ease your mind.

[No, it's really not]

I have no idea how long I was in the ocean and Joly--

[He cuts himself off]

Is there anything you need besides a doctor? I would like to help if possible.

[He doesn't know how. He isn't good for practical things, really.]

[He starts to shake his head, but--]

Do you know where I could find fresh clothing?

[Because he seriously needs it]

[He was half-expecting that question.]

Someone was kind enough to provide me with fresh, perhaps- if you cannot find anything, ask for Favrielle nó Eglantine. And if nothing else, I will lend you some of mine, only I haven't much and it may not fit.

[He's somewhat on the small and delicate side.]

Oh, no, you won't need to lend me anything.

[He holds up the money he was given when he arrived]

Surely there's a seamstress somewhere in the city, if Mademoiselle Eglantine can't help me.

She is a couturier, actually. She's very talented.

[He also tried to pay her and she refused... but he won't mention that, because he isn't sure it would hold true without their common country. Though the language they speak in Paris is suspiciously similar to d'Angeline.]

She may respond, she is quite attentive to those who may require new wardrobes.

Oh, I'm not sure I need someone of that caliber...

[That's more Courfeyrac's thing. Jehan likes his awkward fashion, thanks]

Then again, I don't suppose I have any place to object to anything right now, do I?

She is all I have to recommend- it seems that she does outfitting for a great many of us who have been brought here. You may be able to buy things in the native style, but I doubt they will be so kind as to deliver.

[So, no, basically there is no choice.]

Oh! I didn't mean--I didn't want to seem rude or...it's been a very trying day.

Oh, no, I took no offense, I assure you, and I apologize for seeming to do so. I can only imagine how very difficult a day it must have.

[At least he can only imagine the details. Dying? Yes, he's familiar with that.]

[Jehan nods, silent for a bit]

Forgive me, I never got your name, monsieur.

I am Alcuin nó Delaunay, Messire Prouvaire. I hope that you will feel better soon.

[He smiles sympathetically.]

[A small smile. That name and "messire"...]

Thank you. Are you--are you French, by any chance?

[French. He recalls his conversation with Astrid and smiles.]

In another world I might have been, but my land is known as Terre d'Ange. You are French, then?

I am, lately of Paris though I was born elsewhere. I've never heard of Terre d'Ange, however.

I cannot explain it, but it seems to share a language with your land. [He shrugs. Somethings are beyond even him.]

It is pleasant to see near-countrymen, though. Mademoiselle Favrielle also hails from Terre d'Ange.

I wonder...

[Excuse him, he's gone off into his own world for a moment, thinking about what that could mean. He comes back in a few seconds, though]

Oh, excuse me. It is a bit comforting, knowing that there are people here from a similar culture. Everything here is so different. It's...disorienting.

That much I understand. I was in a position very similar to yours when I arrived- hurt [he doesn't quite want to say 'dead'] and bereft of those that I cared for. If it is any comfort, folk here are kind.

Truly, if there is aught I can do I will.

[He nods, still smiling a bit]

Thank you, monsieur. I will keep that in mind.

Do not hesitate to ask. I have too much time on my hands here.

The...citizens who found me mentioned jobs?

[Did the ones who got Alcuin not or are they just dull?]

I think if you are injured you shouldn't have to work. I am trying to find something that I can do, but I was not raised with a great many useful skills.

[He's a bit wry about that.]

[Jehan knows that feeling]

Unless there's a demand for poets or students, I imagine I'll find myself in a similar situation.

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Verse 01 - Video

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