Jean (Jehan) Prouvaire (
poeticverses) wrote in
tushanshu2013-03-23 12:16 am
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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]
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 was worried you would disapprove and hate me for it. Thank you, Michel.
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I am not pleased that your life was taken so suddenly, when we could have used your heart later on the barricade- but Jehan. You must know I should never hate you. I cannot feel such a sentiment towards you or any of our Amis.
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[Trying not to cry]
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[He stands, taking Jehan's hands into his own and hoping to have him stand with him.]
Foolish you may be, over hasty even. But it shall never be true that Jehan Prouvaire, Poète and Romantic of Les Amis de l'ABC, is coward nor a selfish man.
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I do not know why I hid this from all of you. I should never have doubted you, my brothers. I am sorry for doubting both myself and you.
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You have told us now, and you meant no harm. We are all affected by the events of our death, and by our arrival on Tu Vishan. Consider it forgotten from now on.
[And he kisses him on both cheeks to emphasise this.]
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As you say.
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Was this fear, that we would be angry with you, the cause of your unwellness yesterday?
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[His voice wavers a little and cracks at "my own head"]
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He thinks he possibly understands the sentiment of his mind not being an entirely welcome place- he has experienced unwarranted panic assailing him suddenly throughout the day. It is exhausting at times, not knowing what may cause it to surface, or knowing how to stop it.]
I speak with aboslute certainty when I say that you are important to both myself and the rest of our Amis. I am proud to count you a friend.
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Thank you, Michel. So very much.
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I deserve no thanks. I say it because it is true.