[video] Nowadays it is only the unreadable that occurs

[depicted]

[Dorian posts from his Fire Sector suite, a transcription of some pages of books he found in the Emperor's library in hand. The transcription is, of course, in the local language, and that is why he speaks]

In the interest of actually being able to read anything useful we might come across, rather than puzzling over it like it's the Voynich manuscript, I thought it might be prudent to attempt to gather together the work of those of us who have been trying to crack the language. I know there are at least a few—if there are resources to be shared, then we may all make a bit more progress. [He has been working on this for some time, and it is audible in every stubborn syllable.] At the very least, it can't possibly hurt.

Comments

[poeticverses]

[That has to be flirting. They're too specific to be anything else.

Well, it's been a while (and this is still terribly public) but...]

No, calla lilies and arum.

[depicted]

[Oh, Jehan, you're going to play along? Marvellous. Dorian's smile spreads.]

No daisies? I wasn't certain. You seemed like you could go either way, or perhaps prefer henbane. [Twice the innuendo for half the price.] You could certainly have marigold, from whomever you wanted it.

[poeticverses]

[Dorian!]

Daisies and henbane are nice, but the merchant was out that day. I enjoy all flowers, personally, and grew some myself. I was quite proud of the violets and red poppies I was cultivating in my flat. I wish it were warm enough to grow some here.

[depicted]

[Dorian laughs, charmed and delighted.] Our taste in flowers is much the same. I've always particularly enjoyed the red poppies grown in France. Not that I'd call the species superior to any other—a poppy is beautiful thing in any country, the same as all other flowers. And yet so often, the individual blooms that most capture my attention are from French fields. That thought has very recently been reinforced.

[poeticverses]

[Jehan's blush is full-on red, now, but he's still smiling]

I will admit to very rarely straying from the flowers of France, but I did buy, once, a red-and-white rose from my favorite merchant. I've yet to find a flower so interesting.

[depicted]

Did you really? [There is no mistaking the interested cheer in Dorian's eyes.] I can't offer you the same flower, but I know there is something of the same country, and any bloom you desire would be given to you gladly.

[Dorian looks Jehan in the eyes. Heknows how very scandalous this for the era, but how can he resist?]

Unless, with what I promise is the best of yellow jasmine, you'd have me plucking yours?

[poeticverses]

[Jehan's eyes go wide for a brief moment before he glances down. This is insanely public and he really honestly wasn't expecting that (even though they were pretty blatantly flirting if you understood flowers) because dear God who would?

He's not looking at Dorian simply because he can't.]

I-I must tend to something, but if you should find yourself in the Wood Sector remind me to show you some flowers I found that are similar to wisteria and gardenias.

[depicted]

[How sweet. A few months ago, he might have pressed the suit, but Simon's memory lingers as a restraint and Toby's companionship has made Dorian less dependent on desires of the flesh. He is certainly interested, but he isn't going to take a flower before its time.]

I'm glad you have something like wisteria, but I wouldn't want to impose if you were uncertain of the flowers you keep. Nor would I begrudge striped carnations, if that's what your garden found for me. You'll always have camillas and morning glory from me.

[poeticverses]

I am never uncertain of my garden, and never let those I do not trust near it.

[He thought that much was obvious]

I am certain I could find something like jonquil or even red carnations on this turtle.

[depicted]

[Unsurprisingly, Dorian is happy to have an affirmation.]

I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps I'll find myself in the Wood Sector some time tomorrow or the day after. [Shamelessly over the public network saying this. Dorian is a modern boy, Jehan. He has hookup apps on his iPhone] I neglected it too much when I first arrived here, I can't imagine why. [Well, he could, but that would be depressing. And why be depressing when you can proposition cute poets in public?]

[poeticverses]

Perhaps you had nothing to draw you here. A shame, though. I've only been to the other sectors briefly, but I believe it is my favorite.

[depicted]

It is a Romantic's dream come true. The architecture certainly seems interesting, like something out of a fairy tale.

[poeticverses]

[His face lights up]

There are so many nooks and crannies in the apartment it's unbelievable--exactly like a faerie tale.

[depicted]

As an inhabitant, that makes you either a stolen child or an otherworldly being. Which would you prefer to be?

[poeticverses]

Oh, I would much prefer to be an otherworldly being, but I suppose I'm more a stolen child. Taken from my rightful home and brought to a strange new world...it's a bit terrifying, if you think about it.

[depicted]

If you think about it that way, yes. Stories about being stolen to another world are always dire, but then, they do tend to be written by the ones who chose to come back, don't they?

private;

[cynisme]

[Grantaire had, of course, been listening in. What else was there to do with his time if not pry into the lives of others, especially those of his friends?

He hadn't expected this, nor had he expected to find himself choking on his wine. He could leave it be, see it unfold, and the racier it got (and that was racy), the further on the edge of his seat Grantaire sat. It was like an opera, but one performed only in a back alley in the middle of the night.

Now though, now this is too much.]

By Christ, Jehan, tell me that you are joking.

private;

[poeticverses]

[Jehan's face matches his hair. He hasn't figured out how to make things private himself, but he can respond to private messages thank God]

Oh God Grantaire now is not the time.

private;

[cynisme]

Now is entirely the time, and on this I will be blunt.

[He rests his bottle on the table, finger serving as a cork to prevent spilling, because this is serious and that would be a terrible waste.]

We are not home. Bahorel and Feuilly and the damn police cannot judge you for natural instinct. Dorian Gray is beautiful and isn't subtle, and seemingly has a relationship with Monsieur Matthews akin to what Joly has with Musichetta if he's so openly wooing you. I swear to God in Heaven that if you do not do what you have to as a man you will never hear the end from me.

[This is serious, Jehan. Do not disappoint him.]

private;

[poeticverses]

You speak as if I would hear the end from you regardless. I cannot believe--

[That was incredibly bold, even for Jehan. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging a bit]

I must be out of my mind.

Re: private;

[cynisme]

Entirely. That was almost vulgar. I would say you had the makings of a sailor but they have better metaphors to work with than flowers.

[And of course Grantaire is grinning like an idiot about the whole thing. It might be the liquor that's helped that smile along.]

Drink up and go enjoy yourself, else what's the point of being dead?

private;

[poeticverses]

No, vulgar would have been coral roses and dill.

[He sighs, tugging on his curls again]

You are far worse than I am anyway. I saw that conversation you had with Dorian shortly after you arrived. The sun, Grantaire?

private;

[cynisme]

[He waves it off, unaffected by such accusations. Mostly, of course, because they're accurate. Who would he be if he denied the truth? Not himself, that is entirely for sure.]

I never said that I wasn't, but I'm a wretch and a drunkard and you are a self-aggrandizing weaver of words, with more respect left to lose than I.

Go, have a good time, don't make too many loud noises, though I can't imagine Dorian Gray cares much about attracting negative attention.

private;

[poeticverses]

If he is even aware of the idea of discretion I will give up poetry and become a seaman.

private;

[cynisme]

[That gets a laugh out of him, for sure.]

Your delicate hide is lucky that he seems a most indiscreet fellow. I don't think you could make it as a seaman. A godmother, perhaps, but definitely not a seaman.