Verse 01 - Video

[poeticverses]

[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"]]

Comments

[depicted]

Would you like to borrow a few volumes? I can select a few choice works from my collection. [An idea strikes him, and in a whim of graciousness, he decides to try it.] And—if you can name me your favourite volume of poetry by your favourite author, I might be able to get you something else, with a little time.

[poeticverses]

I'd love to, if you don't mind. Do you have any of Agrippa d'Aubigné's work?

[depicted]

I have read Les Tragiques. Give me a week, and I can get you at least "Les Misères," it not "Les Princes." With more time, you will have the whole work. And in the interim, you may have the kedan poetry to occupy you.

[poeticverses]

Kedan. Is that what the people here are called?

[depicted]

Yes, it is what they call themselves, or at least I've never heard them use another word.

[poeticverses]

Is it their...tribe or their species or...just a name?

[depicted]

I think they mean it as a term for their species. They seem to use it the way we use 'human.'

[poeticverses]

I see. It makes the ride here make a little more sense, knowing that. I'm afraid I was...not the best company.

[depicted]

I think that may be forgiven. You don't seem to have been quite at your best health on arrival.

[poeticverses]

I'm surprised I have any health at all, honestly.

[depicted]

You were in a fight? If it isn't too indelicate to ask.

[poeticverses]

Of sorts. I was at a barricade.

[depicted]

[Dorian tries to remember all the times Paris went to the barricades in the 19th century, but there really is no narrowing it down. He decides not to concern himself with that at present.]

I assume on the side of the People? [A careful choice of word, but not a dishonest one. Dorian is pretty apathetic to actual politics. He knows the arguments and he doesn't care. But if Jehan fights at the barricades in the name of the People, then he is a being who has achieved a beautiful nobility through the purity of his actions. Beauty is something Dorian always appreciates.] I can see why that is not the healthiest place for a person to be, yes. There seem to be a few others here who washed up after equally dire moments.

[poeticverses]

Always for the People. Without them, we have no future.

[But he's really not up to going on about that right now. He's not Enjolras. He frowns a bit]

Another gentleman mentioned arriving here hurt, as well. I am starting to doubt the kedans' reassurance that this is not the afterlife.

[depicted]

Oh, I can assure you on that count. It is impossible that I am dead. This place has a more liminal nature than anything, as far as I have understood it.

[poeticverses]

So it is a place between states of being. If I were more myself...

[And he's distracted by his thoughts. This happens. He comes back to himself after a moment]

Forgive me. I am incredibly disoriented today.

[Did he already go through this? He can't remember]

[depicted]

[Dorian pauses a moment. The disorientation reminds him of something he has seen in others. But if that is the case, its cause is obvious.]

[So instead he waves away the apology.]

Please, the fault is mine. I should let you settle in.

[poeticverses]

Mm. Once I've recovered, I would love to continue our conversation, Monsieur Gray.

[depicted]

And I would be delighted. Mm, tell you what. I'll be home at noon for an hour every day for . . . let's say a week, to give you time. If you wish to call on me, you can then. Otherwise, you can always contact me through this device. Would that serve?

[poeticverses]

[He nods]

I believe so, yes. Thank you.