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

[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.