tushanshu | Entries tagged with † combeferre

[Live from the Fire Sector, it's a large black dragon with a very nice necklace! He is seated in his three-story suite, the intervening floors of which have mostly been removed thanks to the expertise and efficiency of Javert's construction team. What parts of it are visible onscreen give the suite a far more spacious appearance than it did previously, which serves to make Temeraire look a little smaller and (hopefully) a little less intimidating.]

It has come to my attention that my appearance has caused some of you distress in the past few days. I should not like to alarm anyone further, so I suppose I had better introduce myself now and clear away any more misconceptions before they have had a chance to start.

I suppose I cannot blame you for your reactions, since I am given to understand many of you are unfamiliar with dragons, save from various legends, most of which sound farfetched at best and highly offensive at worst. But I do not breathe fire, and I am not feral, and I would certainly never do anything as rude as try to kidnap and eat any of you, regardless of whether or not you are a young lady; I cannot imagine it would make much difference in taste, besides. Of course I would not object to having a great pile of gold to sleep on, but as I do not have one at present I am certainly not going to steal yours, unless you are such a booby as to leave it lying around for anyone to take.

[He huffs slightly, then settles back on his haunches, somewhat mollified.] So there we have it: you know that I am here, and that I am not going to accidentally squash you, or eat you, and with that out of the way, I have have noticed a few things which I suppose everyone should be aware of.

Firstly, there seem to be a great number of you from the twenty-first century at least, which I thought was very exciting at first; but now I realize I must have missed a great many things over the course of the last two hundred years, particularly in the realm of the sciences, and I should like to catch up on whatever I have missed. If you are not averse to discussing any of it with me, I should very much like to listen to all you have to say.

Secondly, whatever miasma has afflicted the other sectors is present here in the Fire sector as well; it has grown cold these past few days, and our suites are poorly lit besides. I am certain the damage must have spread elsewhere, and I would like to propose a small expedition of perhaps two or three others, to the outer reaches of the shell. I am curious to see if the disease has also affected what local wildlife remains, and if there is some aspect of its process that we may have overlooked. It will be no great inconvenience to take you on my back; I expect we will be able to get around faster and more comfortably than most, if we fly directly. Of course anyone may come, if they like, but I think it would help very much if you are a scientist, and not afraid of heights.

Pray inform me if you have any questions. [He pauses, then switches off the feed.]

usavatar

[He considered making this a voice or a text entry on the network for the sake of avoiding... well, people - but ultimately that would raise more questions with those who know him. Civilian clothes, calm demeanor, utterly meaningless political smile.]

I hope you're all faring all right with the changes in our environment and the requirements that puts on its population. I'm used to rationing, but I understand that it's probably and adjustment for those of you that are not.

Peggy and I had an idea about that - we wanted to see if there was any interest in a communal pot luck, periodic until things normalize.

Additionally, we wanted to see what people thought of a resource pool of food and nonperishables held in the... should I just call it a community center? That's how we'd like the space to serve during peacetime.

Um. [A small laugh.] Sorry, I lost my train of thought. As I was saying, we'd like to work on what amounts to a food bank for the duration of the rationing and possibly longer, if it proves useful and necessary. Donations are of course encouraged, particularly from those whose enterprises are not as effected by the restrictions currently in place.

[The empty warmth briefly dissipates, leaving Steve militant all out of proportion to what he says next.] To pre-empt those who think it's naive, ill-advised, et cetera, we would be monitoring the intake and distribution of goods to ensure that no single party exploits the generosity of contributors. I think as a charitable model it's a good one.

[He clears his throat and settles back in his chair.]

I'm not much good with plants, but if we could get space on the roof of the building, it might do some good to have a garden up there as well.

[100% JARVIS-assisted encryption to Evandau]

Sir. I would like to discuss, in person and at your earliest convenience, a potential threat to the safety of the Foreigner population. And also inquire after the well-being of Miss Namorita Prentiss, who you have in custody.

[ACTION FOR PEGGY]

[Done. He switches off the console and tilts his head back, inspecting the ceiling of the apartment with one of those vague and pointless realizations regarding how few people ever look up.

He scrubs his face with both hands and gets up, going to the kitchen to wet a cloth and press it against his face, then neck, mentally reciting passages from the books he'd read before Keeliai and snatches of songs to try and keep his thoughts from going back to the lab Natasha described and its contents. It doesn't work especially well.]

howherolls

[ the feed shows Peeta sitting in his room, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead in exhaustion. he's covered in flour and sweat]

With the rations...it's hard to say how long the bakery can stay open for. [ he rolls his shoulders] Needless to say, it's going to only be plain bread and more plain bread for a while.

[ he rubs his hands together ]

I'm. Not sure how I feel about reacquisitions.

Has anyone said what they're going to be doing with one-fifth of everyone's earnings? [ he frowns, clearly nervous ]

moreofalark

[ A girl in a large bonnet peeks at the screen curiously. ] … Is this working? Ah, I think it is! Or at least I hope so; I hope I’m not speaking to no one… [ She pauses, her eyebrows furrowing. That would be really embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Quickly, she smiles and clasps her hands together, attempting to regain her composure and make a nice introduction for herself. ] Never mind that, I’ll assume from this point on that you are able to hear me.

It is a pleasure to be in your company. I am called Cosette. I’ve never had a chance to befriend so many people and the people here seem exciting certainly. I hope we are able to get along at the very least.

[ Cosette laughs slightly, wondering what her father would think of all this. With that thought, she stops herself and puts on a much more serious face than before. ]

If possible, I would like to know if any of you have spoken to or heard of a Monsieur Fauchelevent. [ Another pause and she remembers someone else she'd like to find. If her father could be here, then so could he. ] And I am also looking for Marius Pontmercy. If you know of either of them, it will be a great help to me. It is very important that I find them, you see. Still, thank you for your time. [ She gives a small smile and stops the video there. ]

cynisme

[The picture presented to the network might be jarring to anyone who knows Grantaire, who would rather drink and keep himself occupied rather than tidy, whether it be with reading or with simply being lost in thought. No, the room around him is orderly, at least more than it usually is, with papers neatly piled and bottles all in one corner, and clothes in one place, all recently washed. Grantaire himself is sitting with his feet up on the table (his pink, scrubbed clean feet), in his newly cleaned dressing gown, positively glowing. Literally, much more than metaphorically, because he has never been this clean in his life. Emotionally, he looks rather like a wet, grumpy cat, with his hair towel-dried and even his teeth brushed.

Well, at least he has his friend the bottle of wine at his disposal, and he's already spilled a drop on his dressing gown.]

Let the entirety of La Tortue know that Bryn Zethir is a horrid woman who will make you tidy up if you let her play at Saint George. It's a shame she's great company otherwise.

squint

Looking for a chemist with the ability to reverse engineer a formula. --Mr Charles

[ Guess who's at his normal cafe in the earth sector? That's right, Cobb is sipping his tea quietly while he scours the network for someone that can manage to take the somnacin formula and give the team more. If they could work the PASIV... ]

spacehipster

[ It's bright outside, as a disheveled man, looking a fair bit mad with his bow-tie askew, addresses the console cheerfully. ] Helloooo, citizens of the Tu Vishan! This is your captain speaking. Not really, but I do like the thought of being a captain, at some point. [ He winks. ]

I'm new, obviously, and it seems I'm not alone in that, so hello, fellow news, and good day, dearest olds — though I suppose whether the day is good or bad or simply so-so is entirely subjective. [ He sticks out his tongue briefly. ] Still, it tastes like an awfully good day, if you ask me, which you didn't; but it's a bit late to protest as I've already told you.

Anyway, I'm curious about some things, so let's skip pleasantries and go straight to queries, if you're so inclined. [ He holds up one finger. ] Thing one: where and when are you lot from? An approximation is fine. And don't worry about confusing me if it's complicated or timey-wimey shenanigans are involved. I happen to be rather quick on the uptake.

[ Two fingers up, like a peace sign. ] Thing two: flatmates. [ said as if it is the newest, most delicious word to ever be spoken. ] Apparently, I'll be lodging in WO-2B, so if you're also lodging in WO-2B, I am led to believe that makes us mates of the flat variety. In other words, lodgers, roomies, neighbors. etc. Which means we really ought to get together and chat a bit, maybe eat crisps, talk about girls — standard flatmate stuff. Yeaaaah. Flatmate stuff. Love a good flatmate, I do.

[ Three fingers and a grin so wide, it nearly splits his face. ] Thing three: great, big, sexy, blue box. I'm looking for her, and she's probably looking for me. Tangentially related, large-nosed Roman and shout-y ginger. May or may not be with the box; most definitely with each other. Probably kissing. [ kissing noises go here. ]

Oh, I'm the Doctor, by the by. Lovely to meet you all.

dracobin

[Voice only. Temeraire has noticed the distinct lack of dragons on his trip to his apartment and is a little hesitant about revealing himself, especially when the streets are clearly not built for draconic use and a great many people have reacted badly to dragons in his world. Not that it makes much difference: his voice has a strange resonant quality to it and is, despite his best efforts to conceal it, clearly nonhuman. His words are obviously rehearsed; after the kedan left, he was very careful to practice using the console again and again until he was certain he could get it right without looking like a bumbling foreigner. It is a curious machine, and how can one be sure one is really being heard when one is only speaking to a box, but what choice does he have?]

It is not precisely that I mind being brought here. The kedan have already told me that time has stopped, in England, so I suppose that is all right, if I do not need to worry about Lien or Napoleon suddenly deciding to attack. And it is very kind of them to give me money, and an apartment, although it is not quite so nice as the pavilions in China.

It is only that I wish I had been asked if I should like to come to a new land first, and to be shrunk to the size of a hatchling—

[Pause. Oh dear, humans don't say that, do they. Well, there's nothing for it now. Temeraire forges on bravely:]

—or, if they could not have asked, they might have at least explained after I arrived, instead of telling me that it is the Emperor’s business. I have had quite enough of Emperors; and I do not see that this one has any right to keep anything from me, especially if it is to do with my being here. It does not seem at all fair to me that I should be brought here quite against my will, and without my captain or any of my friends—

[At the mention of his captain the carefully rehearsed tone slowly crumbles away, and there is a short pause before the words tumble out:]

Pray tell me if you have seen a man, reasonably tall, British, with hair rather like the color of gold, tied back; he would be wearing a green coat, and answer to William Laurence, and if you see him please let him know that Temeraire is here, and is looking for him, and can be found at FI-3B.

[Another pause, and then the feed is cut.]

una_persson

[The feed switches on to show Una, entirely at ease in her suite in the Wood sector. She has a cut-glass British accent, though her manner isn't especially posh; she is smiling and seemingly quite relaxed, as if washing up on the back of a giant turtle is the sort of thing that happens to her every day.]

Hello, ladies and gentlemen and others. My name's Una Persson, and I'm newly arrived from the twentieth century. It's certainly a very interesting place you have here, and the locals are quite helpful.

Though they didn't see fit to tell me where a lady can get a decent cup of coffee, or whatever the local equivalent is, so I hope I can prevail upon my fellow expatriates for a recommendation? And I should also really like an overview of the local current events; I'd hate to be uninformed and say or do something to cause trouble.

[Though there's something about the way she says it and the gleam in her grey eyes that suggests that causing trouble might be precisely what she's interested in.]

lecentre

[Courfeyrac, despite looking worse for wear (to say the very least), fixes the feed with his most charming smile. Is it possible to look so dashing when so tattered? He somehow makes it possible. His voice is light and friendly when he speaks up.]

Good morning. I have a very important question if someone would be kind enough to answer.

[He leans in conspiratorially, lips quirking just a bit. He's obviously in pain, but doing his best to cover that and his confusion up.]

Anyone here able to find me a nice hat? I seem to have misplaced my last one and it would be a shame for my head to be bare during my stay.

[He leans back with a stretch, and perhaps a wince at that if you’re watching carefully enough. (Who are we kidding, it's extremely obvious at this point.)]

I shall eagerly await a response. Until then, it’s most certainly a pleasure to meet all of you. [He pauses, trying to figure out if he should say more or not, before he decides:] And if any of my friends are around... Well...

[He cuts off there, not knowing exactly what else to say, so he opts to say nothing at all.

lostundercover

[Backdated to Feb 14 afternoon]
[The video flicks on to show Bourne seated in front of the screen at a cafe. His nose is swollen and possibly broken and blood covers his shirt. Costigan is standing awkwardly not far behind him. To anyone remotely trained, it's clear that Costigan's left shoulder is dislocated. Both men show subtle signs of bruises developing in their faces.]

[Bourne speaks first.] Can anyone recommend a doctor in or near the Wood Sector?

You have any idea what kind of medical treatment they have here? Thanks a lot, asshole. [Costigan's pretty much muttering from the background.]

[Bourne totally ignores this.] We just need someone who can reset his shoulder. And possibly my nose. [There's a pause, and when he speaks again, he sounds dead serious with nary a hint of Blatant Lies.] He fell out of a tree.

[Costigan shows no sign of disputing the obvious lie, but he cuts in anyway.] Tell Reid I'm fine.

Reid? He's fine, apparently. [Bourne's 'tree' canard does not go any way towards explaining why he has a busted-up face too. It was a tree, dammit. Trees everywhere.]

[Black is Jason Bourne (

brokenweapon), navy blue is Billy Costigan (

lostundercover)]

97_percent

First, I'll be honest and say I'm still not positive this isn't some disturbingly elaborate test the CDC's springing on me. Then again, if it is, I already failed before we got to the insane virtual reality part of our tour, so I guess it's best if I assume this is actually happening and go from there.

Second, contrary to popular belief, I'm not especially fond of being the bearer of bad news, but it seems to be my place in life, so brace yourselves. That little zombie outbreak you guys had a couple weeks ago? Consider it a dress rehearsal for what could happen in your near future.

When I arrived here, I carried a virus with me. It's called Kellis-Amberlee, it is airborne and highly contagious, and it nearly ended my world twenty years ago. I'm sorry. Honestly I am.

I suppose the noble thing to do would be to raise my hand publicly and let myself be sacrificed for the greater good, but I've been trying way too hard to stay alive lately to give up now, so I guess I'm sorry for being selfish as well. If it helps, there's no real guarantee getting rid of me would solve your problem anyway. I've been on the street, spoken to people, been breathing out virus particles the whole time I've been here. The virus is out there, it's probably spreading, and there's no way around it.

The good thing is, 1) you've got someone whose parents fought this war and won, and 2) I'm not sure it's contagious to the locals, and I'm hoping not, because that could be what keeps this from becoming an epidemic. I've attached a file detailing what I can remember off the top of my head about the virus, what it does, and the means of combating both it and the infected. I'd be happy to answer any questions you have and help in any way that doesn't get me shot in the head, but first I am going to go and take a long nap. Maybe it turns out this isn't real after all.

[ Attached is a file containing this basic information, but in a hell of a lot more detail. Replies to responses here will come ~12 hours later and from another anonymous console at another location in the city. Georgia wasn't kidding about that nap. ]

poeticverses

[Jehan has Problem, and this seems to be the fastest way to find a solution for it even though these things still confuse him. So, he turns it on with a shy smile, looking much less beat to hell then in his first request for help a few weeks ago. However, he looks like someone who really hasn't been getting much sleep, dark circles and everything.

He's also in a pink waistcoat that really does not go with his red hair. This is why Jean Prouvaire is not allowed to buy his own clothing. He normally knows better, but lack of sleep leads to weird ideas and he's not one to fight them.

Sorry.]

Does...with so many different people here, I was hoping someone would be able to help me. I haven't been sleeping well, since my arrival, and it is starting to take its toll on me. I am in need of a sleeping draught or laudanum or...anything, really, to aid my sleep. Not wine or--other alcohol, though. That only works temporarily. Otherwise, I am open to any suggestions you may have.

Ah--thank you.

[And he cuts it]

tangentdarko

[Donnie flicks the video on in the late morning. He's wearing pajamas while a cafe is visible in the background. He frowns.]

Is there a doctor or a therapist here? I'm almost out of my medication and sometimes I see things when I'm not on them and I think it would be better if I could get more. I don't really know where to look to get the same thing I had back home because I don't know a lot about the pills except what they look like and what they're supposed to do and I don't even know if that's true because Dr Thurman could have been lying and it's not like my dad would know. He couldn't even remember her name.

I guess I don't really have to take the same thing. I sleepwalk a lot if I'm not taking them though and I wake up in weird places and that wasn't such a big deal in Middlesex because I knew where everything was and most people knew about my problem so they usually just woke me up and let me go home, but I don't think they'll be that nice about it here because it seems like they don't really like people that aren't Kedan.

[He sighs a little.]

wilsooon

[Someone has come to a realization in the past few hours that has made him increasingly unsettled. So here he is in a cafe in the Fire Sector, sharing his paranoia.]

The kedan are shapeshifters. Is there anything to stop them from looking like one of us?

inseine

[The man on the video screen has done his best to compose himself to mixed effect. His gaze is alert and provokes attention, and his stature is dignified and determined. But from beneath his carefully buttoned coat and tamed hair creeps a glimpse of tremendous blue-yellow bruises. His clothes, thick as they are, do only so much to hide the swelling, and then there was the small matter of his pallid complexion, and his discolored right jaw.

His voice and lungs have both strengthened with rest and food, but not even a good night's sleep or two is enough to fix everything else. Yet he scrutinizes the screen intently and speaks in a clipped, abrupt tone, carefully void of any strong emotion and calm as a lake on a still day.]

Good day. I am the latest model, a fresh one.

[He grimaces, a twitching spasm in his jaw.]

I need more work. The fellows in the welcome caravan were unhelpful. I have no references, so I will start with odd jobs. I can prove myself. I will take long hours. Simple things, whatever there is for me. [His brow lowers almost imperceptibly.] Hard labor is fine. I am fit.

Second, I seek a clothier. Secondhand will do.

Third, a mapmaker.

[An awkward pause, in which he pierces the monitor with a guarded, hawkish stare. His grim smirk is incongruous. Foolish thing, advertising to no one at all! There are no faces for him to study. What else is there to say? He hastily wraps it up,]

I am called Javert. Send me tips, people, places, instructions. I will come to you.

[He bends into the feed, his steady eye filling the screen, when the video cuts out.]

cynisme

[He’s washed up now, wine poured into a glass he found in his new living quarters, wearing something clean.

Clean for now, at least. He taps the screen, still quite maladjusted to this but taking it in stride.]

Alright, in theory I know how this works, but how I’m expected to be comfortable with such radical, fantastic changes to the everyday and mundane is a touch ridiculous. We the people do not change so easily, we do what is comfortable to us until it is no longer comfortable, and then we move on to the next habitual escape. See my own actions as an example. I arrived on this plane, sober, soaked and in pain, so my first action was to find an escape from two of the three ailments.

[He holds up his glass with a lopsided smile, a toast to the screen, before taking a drink. A drop dribbles down his chin and stains the collar of his shirt.]

Mm, and who would have thought that the afterlife would dress me like a china-man? Not so high and mighty are the empires of Europe now, I see. Could colonial exploits be more of a joke than it is now? That I would like to see.

Now, if someone on this here web of decadent communication could point in the direction of Monsieurs Jehan Prouvaire, Etienne Combeferre and Michel Enjolras, I may be satiated enough to keep to myself.

ironwood

[The video opens on the Emperor, who is writing at a desk. She looks... composed, but with that hard-edged irritation in her that so many foreigners have come to know and either hate or be frustrated by. She sets her pen down and looks up. She is Not Here For This Bullshit, but children must be minded and the foreigners are little else, as far as she's concerned.]

As some of you may know, we were recently attacked by the undead. Despite your admirable efforts in turning away the enemy, some individuals who cannot seem to think beyond the end of their fists and considerable over-compensatory strength caused structural damage across the turtle shell. This damage caused significant collapse in ancient sewer systems.

My architects are working to repair the areas. Stay away from them. And no you may not help. Anyone caught in the area will be arrested and incarcerated for an indefinite amount of time.

If you've nothing useful to say, remain silent. My time is precious.

philosophe

[Combeferre certainly looks better than he did a few days ago. There is some color back in his cheeks, a few books and papers scattered around behind him, if one cares to notice. He gives the feed a little bit of a wave and leans close.]

As I have said to a few I have encountered here, at home I was studying to be a doctor. I would dearly love to find something to do with myself in a clinic, as soon as I am physically able. Is there one in this city, or, perhaps, someone who would be interested in starting one if there is not?

I realize there has undoubtedly been quite a lot of advancement within the field of medicine in the past -- however long it has been, but I would certainly be willing to learn. It should prove to be most enlightening.

So please, if there are doctors present, your advice would be greatly appreciated.

idealisme

[Enjolras sits at attention, back straight at possible, in front of the computer. He has the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well, but his eyes are bright and attentive all the same. In the background his two friends are visible.]

My name in Enjolras. I was a French Citizen, killed on the morning of June the 6th, 1832 while taking part in a revolution to overthrow the corrupt July Monarchy. It is after this that I found myself here two days ago. You may already have met my friends Combeferre and Prouvaire. I wish to thank those of you I have already met, and who have offered my companions and I aid.

[He nods his head in quick thanks. There is clearly something else on his mind he thinks more important than either introductions or thanks.]

It is regarding my other companions that I ask you for your aid today, as we are uncertain whether they are amongst us here on Tu Vishan or not.

They would be dressed in a similar fashion to my friends and I, and undoubtedly all have arrived in an injured fashion. They go by the names of: Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Joly, Bahorel, Lesgles - though he may prefer Bossuet - and Marius. [A slight pause.] Grantiare also.

I might also ask if anyone has information regarding the political nature of this Empir- [There's a comment behind him, too quiet for the microphone to pick up. Enjolras turns to listen, then continues without finishing his previous thought.]

We are situated in the Wood sector, should you come across them at a later stage. Again, I thank you for your attention.

Tu Shanshu

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