tushanshu | Verse 03 -- Video

[It is not a happy Jean Prouvaire who greets the world today.

Those who don't know Jehan might be able to tell that something's off. He almost looks sick, but not quite, and his clothes are in disarray. Those who do know Jehan?

They can tell right away that something is terribly wrong with the Romantic poet. He hasn't been out of his house in a few days--he hasn't left his house much at all since a few days before the snow day, actually, but in the last few days he's been a total recluse--and hasn't been seen on the network since Courfeyrac's last post. He's not looking at the feed like he normally does, his hands seem to be shaking a little, and he just seems off. Sleep has clearly been eluding the poet, too.

It takes a few minutes before he speaks. When he does, his voice is lacking his usual emotion. Still gentle, Jehan could never be anything but, but it's a bit flat]

I...I was wondering if someone...

[He bites his lip before trying again]

A-a flute. Does anyone know where I might--

[Another pause, this one longer. Jehan closes his eyes and shakes his head, reaching up to turn the feed off]

No, never mind.

[Just before he cuts the feed, the sounds of him starting to cry can be heard]

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I...I am very lucky, I suppose.

I think good fortune in one area does not mean that other areas cannot trouble you. [So don't go saying you shouldn't feel bad because you have friends. :|]

That does seem to be the way of things, doesn't it?

I suppose it is the way the world has always worked.

It does not seem fair at times.

[Alcuin actually has to laugh at that, though it's audibly tinged with sadness and something that would be bitterness if it weren't Alcuin.]

Expecting the world to be fair is the easiest way to come to grief, my friend. It does not treat such hopes gently.

But that does not mean one shouldn't hope, if one is capable of it.

I would be the last to speak against hope, certainly. The world- or better to say life, perhaps- has so much potential for both cruelty and kindness, but they are not meted out in equal measure. Hope gives us something to work for to better our lot and the lives of those around us. It does not grant us immunity from grief and pain.

[He sighs and winces internally. He was distracted by his own pain when he should think of Jehan's.]

I'm sorry, I should not speak so- it is not helpful.

N-no, it is fine. I can't...I cannot be selfish and keep others from expressing themselves.

I should have been more considerate. Do not mind me.

It did not bother me.

[Slight lies, but he's used to Grantaire]

As you say.

[He can hear a lie, but he will not argue.]

Is there anything I can do, beyond pondering the nature of the world?

N-no, I am fine for now. Thank you however, Alcuin.

I hope that I will be able to hear you play your flute, when you have found one.

Verse 03 -- Video

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;