tushanshu | Entries tagged with † combeferre

[The video clicks on to show a boy of seventeen staring at the screen. The kedan have just shown him how to work the console and he assumes he’s meant to broadcast, as he would in Panem. So he flashes a winning smile, one that doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes.]

Hello. My name is Peeta Mellark, from District 12. They said this isn’t the Capitol. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure where Keeliai is or why I’m here. But I know that the Emperor wouldn’t bring me here without a reason and I trust her wisdom. I appreciate how welcoming you have been and I look forward to learning more about you and to fulfilling my duties here.

[The tribute is incredibly charming, but those who are extremely perceptive would be able to detect that nearly every word is a lie and may notice the sound of handcuffs being pulled taut. He pauses and his smile falters.]

If any other Victors have been welcomed here, I would be glad to be reunited with them again.

solo_patria

[Enjolras stares out at the camera, his expression set and his eyes hard. It would be clear, likely, to those who know him, that he is not handling the Empresses's (yeah, he'd disrespect you equally if you were a emperor; he just can't get behind the gendered terms in his mind)announcement well. In truth, he wants to go out and break something or set it on fire, or some other urge he has ever repressed, and will continue to do so. To think of THAT coming home, to the people. No.

Full understanding's dawned now, and that understanding is horrifying, dizzying, and there is but one way that Enjolras can think to even begin dealing with it. When he speaks, his voice is grave, the tones used on the barricade, though modulated for this moment at least.]

And so we learn the way of it at last.

Might we all speak together soon? I...am in need of all of you and what actions that we may plan to take.

[And, in a rare display of actual anger, saved up perhaps, from Gavroche, along with other things, brought to light by the threat to Patria, he's slamming a fist down, HARD, upon his desk, enough that he sees a crack left behind, though that does not really help. The last time anyone has seen him give in to something like this would be July of 1830, but he's done it as it is.]

We fight for France, and the people again. There is no question of it. But in the matter of how, I am outclassed. Might the rest of you have some thoughts? Please begin considering them until the group of us may meet.

watcheslanterns

Um, hello!

[Rapunzel smiles and waves.]

I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, but it seems like a lot of people are under a spell that's changed their size, age...other things like that [aka all the genderswaps.]. I just wanted to offer my help. If you don't have any clothes that fit I can sew something together really quickly, or alter what you already have.

If you need something like that, please let me know. I'd like to help out however I can!

solo_patria

[Hello Turlelites. You're being treated to a close up view of one of Enjolras's sheets, and a sleeping Enjolras for a moment. Because someone's pet wasn't totally secured last night and managed to turn on his console this morning. Which is set for video. The next thing you're seeing is...a very pretty blond kid of about fourteen or fifteen turning over a little in his sleep, apparently muttering something to someone next to him(?!!) and then opening his eyes, before nudging his companion.]

Combeferre? Combeferre something feels off.

[And he's standing, and stretching, trying to figure this out as the shirt he was half wearing, which was already big on him last night ends up sliding halfway down his shoulders.]

What in the...

Current Mood: anxious

philosophe

[It's a pretty normal, sunny day on the back of a giant turtle... That is, until an explosion rocks the Fire Sector. And it's not even like, a normal, mildly alarming, muffled explosion coming from the Valdez household. It's a loud, deafening sound, almost like a cannon fire, coming from an open space that is really suspiciously near Leo's apartment.

In any case, what happens next is a broadcast of this certain message on the network coming from Leo's PC. Behind Leo and Combeferre is the usual mess of machine parts and sketches, except now there's a distinct black mist hovering in the room.

Leo is wearing a sheepish grin and scratching the back of his head. His clothes and parts of his face are covered in black soot.]

Right! So, about that explosion. Theoretically, if that happened to be caused by a super smart and tragically handsome teenager and a guy with a distinctly French accent and hailing from some ancient century, what kind of trouble will said guys theoretically get into? All theoretically, of course.

--The 19th century, it is hardly ancient. [Combeferre interjects from the background. The explosion has shaken him rather more than he would care to admit, but he’s just going to take a few deep breaths here, in an attempt to calm himself down.]

I, ah -- we were testing the mechanics of a model cannon. Theoretically. [He offers a sheepish grin.] Clearly, that attempt used far too much powder.

[Hands up in the air all pre-emptively going "hang on bros y'all gotta chill"] To be fair though, we like, totally didn't blow up an entire block, so uh, no harm done, right?

[Leo's brows furrow soon after, and he turns to Combeferre.] Hey wait, dude, did I just say "we"...?

[A tad absently:] Yes, you did. [He tries for a weak smile, though it’s pretty clear he’s not really paying attention -- especially to someone who knows him well.] I suppose the theoretical talk did not count for much, anyhow -- is there a chair about?

(OOC: Joint post from the resident mad scientists! Leo is red, Combeferre is blue, come yell at them and get either!)

jondrette

[The box-- a computer, she was told, is omitting some sort of light, and Eponine looks at it, her face angled away, her eyes narrowed and her lips parted slightly. She doesn't trust it. But, she was told, that was how you communicated here. When you didn't find people face to face. Reaching out, she raps her hand against the screen, gasping at the hollow sound.] So strange, this computer! I don't understand it. There isn't anything like this in Paris, yet here… In this strange sort of city-- I was told it is not heaven or the hell that I deserve, but rather a city in the In Between. I can only liken it to purgatory, which is better than what I expected. [Her voice is low and hoarse, not fitting for the seventeen-year-old girl that she is at all. Then again, her age is hard to pinpoint in and of itself.]

I'm dead. They said perhaps I was, but I know better. I remember life leaving my body, and… [She pauses, looking away, her eyes fixed at a far-off point, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips.] and I remember his lips pressed against my forehead as I passed. Oh, I am dead, don't try to tell me that I am not, whomever it is I'm speaking to. It's so strange, I'm speaking into a box, and others are supposed to hear me! [She tosses her head back and laughs.]

What a strange, strange world this is. Heaven or Hell or In Between, perhaps it is all the same. They said it was an In Between. Why am I not in hell? All who know me know that's where I belong. I do not belong here, and yet, [she gestures.] here I am. Is it not a wonder?

solo_patria

It appears to have been invited here, enough to leave us a message.

~~Is anyone else...~~

Please, inform me of how you are faring in the face of such?

[Filter: ~~Javert~~ That Fellow Over There:]

My fine and debt to you have now been paid with interest, left at the location specified. Thank you.

Current Mood: anxious

neverginger

[A device clicks on, and a face appears on the network: a thin one with a large nose and brown messy hair. And glasses. Needs the glasses to see, you know. He grins, all teeth.]

Alright, then, this is neat, isn't it!

[He's not really saying that to anyone in particular. Don't worry, happens all the time. You'll know if he's speaking to you directly. Most likely.]

Never seen this before. Well, seen things like it, but nothing's ever quite the same in two places, yeah? Bit rubbish that everything in here's made of wood, makes my screwdriver a bit obsolete, but still...

[He laughs, and steps back from the device, standing with his hands on his hips. He's in his suite in the Wood Sector. Pretty nice place, if you ignore the lack of sonic-ing abilities.]

Right. So. I'm the Doctor, just the Doctor, thank you, and I suppose I was brought here, same as all of you. Now who's got something interesting to tell me about their time here?

[A pause, and time to ruminate over a question that's been in his mind since he got here.]

And does anyone know what this planet's base is? Doesn't seem like most other ones. A bit harder, strange in places. What's it made from?

solo_patria

[And here's a particularly pensive looking Enjolras, who has, truth be told, spent the last week or so avoiding almost everyone and everything. His gaze is somewhat far off, his face clearly touched by grief, but he is holding strong enough up to a point. Even so, he HAS come here for a reason.]

I would ask where, besides the turtle's head one might go here to spend some time alone? I require...reflection in a place that is not this room and where I might be un-interrupted. Might I have some recommendations for such a quiet place?

[And then he is hesitating for a moment, clearly, still focused on the camera as he
thinks, hands folded at his side.]

And in what ways have people here come to cope with, and accept the unfairness and griefs of this world, such as they might be? It is proving to be difficult since my arrival here, and I would welcome strategy if you might share it.

Current Mood: melancholy

solo_patria

[The video opens with Enjolras, who looks a bit worse for wear, considering his arrival here was right after he'd been gunned down with eight shots, knowing that all of his friends had died before him, save for Grantaire. But he IS here, and obviously startled, and in pain though he is, there is a bemused expression on his face as he peers out skeptically at the new technology, not entirely sure he understands the explanation he was given, but willing to make the attempt at mastering it, if this is how communication on this strange new island works.]

Greetings, those of you who are seeing this. I am...not quite sure of how I might address people I have not seen when I attempt to speak to them. The progress of the keedans seems to be above that of man where I am from to have wrought such an invention as THIS and the things it allows us now.

I am Enjolras and I have come from Paris, at the hour of what I thought to be my death in 1832, and instead have been installed here by some means I cannot fully comprehend. In that life, I wrote, and read the law in hope of practicing one day. [Best not to mention what else he did in a place the mysterious Emperor might see it. He mistrusts this figure already for being what he is.]

In this new one, I am not fully certain of what I shall do, but I have seen the other on this island making postings of all sorts and thought that I should speak as well. I am told that seeking a job here is quite important, but tell me what there is most need of, and I shall gladly apply there if they will have me do so, and if there are others I might speak to who know more of the world whence I came?

[And he is frowning, deeply, troubled by some stray thought perhaps, as the video feed shuts off, leaving him remaining there in his suite, pensive.]

Current Mood: contemplative

philosophe

[Combeferre's voice is quiet; a little resigned, but it won't do to grieve on the network. Certainly not in public.]

Michel Enjolras has left Tu Vishan. His rooms are empty. I must request that those of you who know Grantaire pray do not mention it to him; I am certain he will not take it well, at all, and he is already suffering as it stands. He shall be informed once he is less poorly.

I do not know what happens when one leaves this place, but I wish him well.

philosophe

I have recently come into possession of a copy of a map of this place. It is no greatly detailed thing, more of a topographical map than any thing else. A thought occurs, however; who has seen more than vague maps of this place? If there are so many foreigners here, would not detailed maps be quite helpful? It seems as though things may be hidden; I should like to know your theories.

A note, as well -- I have not yet mastered the art of making an entry on these devices private. Is there a way to do so?

dunnage

I have heard the Arguments that Time has stopped at Home, and while the Idea brings me slight Peace, I do not believe I can rest here without Consequence.

Inaction is as much of a Crime as active Treachery, and I wish to Help in any Fashion I may. I am able bodied, well used to working in open Seas and under Orders. You shall find my Complaints very few in number, under Condition that any Action asked of me is given fairly, and does not impugn on the Rights of God’s Creatures or against Country.

If I may also inquire, I am still hopeful to locate a dear Friend of mine, a Dragon by the name of Temeraire— or perhaps Lung Tien Xiang. He is of black coloring with blue markings, in the Heavy Weight class and distinguishable by a unique facial ruff and tendrils. If he is occupied, or perhaps if I am gone when He arrives, let Him know that He is missed, that He must take care of Himself, and that William Laurence asks only for Him to be happy, even if He is not near.

Cpt. Wllm Lrnce

philosophe

[Yes, it's late, but Combeferre has never been one to keep quite normal hours. He has been busy, or so it looks -- there are piles and neatly labelled boxes of things in the room behind him, along with the requisite piles of books and sketches that can normally be found in his apartments, whether in Paris or Keeliai. In any case, he looks very pleased with himself, and clears his throat a bit.]

Some of you may recall the clinic I asked after, shortly after my arrival here. I am pleased to announce that it is in fact open for business -- save the actual premises. My apartments here will be serving as a clinic for the time being, until I may find proper ones.

Supplies are, of course, limited -- but I have been making a study of kedan medicines and have found some that are quite suited to our use as well. If any of you have need of a doctor's services, please do come by my apartments. They are located in Wood 1B. Ask for Combeferre.

[And he's giving everyone a cheery wave and moving to sign off.]

poeticverses

[This takes place after they've been in the warm waters for a bit.

This is the most excited, happy Jehan you have ever seen. Someone heard from a kedan about the water and he's ecstatic. He's from Cannes, from the shore. He's missed going to the beach, and now he gets to.

He's in R's suite, so you might hear the drunk bitching about an overly excited puppy of a poet, but Jehan does not care. He does not care at all.]

We, apparently, are now in the warmest waters the kedan have ever seen, and they are a wonderful, clear blue. Therefore, I am insisting that all of our friends join Grantaire, Bryn, and myself for a trip down to the edge for swimming. We will be leaving as soon as we've supplies for a full day at the edge. If you'd like to join us, please meet us in the Wood Sector.

[He grins and starts to shut off the feed before remembering something. He blushes]

Ah...with the reprieve we've been granted, it might quickly become...indecent for young children or particularly gentle women. Just...as a warning.

[The modifier on "women" is because of Bryn. Jehan shuts the feed off, yelling something off screen at R.]

((ooc: This is going in a separate log here in a second because there is going to be alcohol, smoking, and likely nakedness because men didn't have actual "swimsuits" until the 1840s and these guys predate that. So.))

chiot

[ Hey! Other people on the turtle! The screen blinks on and there's a ratty blonde boy. Familiar, no doubt--he's never at one place for too long, and he's constantly running around the city. It's likely you've seen him on the street. ]

S'Gavroche! Gotta question for yas. [ What a nice way to greet people. This had been on his mind, though. Since Cosette mentioned it, and even moreso due to the events on Atam. There's a few bruises and scrapes on his face, but his nose is looking a little purple, swelling. Possibly broken. He seems undeterred at this--or the fact that he's absolutely filthy. Actually, there's pretty much nothing in the house he logged in to the network on--he doesn't really use it at all. ]

Little inquiry, huh? Lil' bit. [ He rolls his shoulders, and for the first time he looks a little anxious. ] Y'know your worlds, yeah? I wanna talk to someone what lives in Earth, an' knows Paris. Gotta bit-- [ Okay, now you're repeating yourself, Gavroche. Try not to look so nervous! You're proud of who you are and what you did.

So, cautiously, the Gamin flashes a smile. ]

The--uh. Around June 6, there was a rebellion, yeah? 'Gainst the King. [ Absentmindedly, he touches his little rosette pin with the colours of the French flag. ]

We--they--overthrew 'im, right? An' did it follow through? Y'got a King in France?

cynisme

[This is only a video because Grantaire can't be bothered to fuss with his console right now. Getting onto the system's been difficult enough as is, with how much loathing his more sober, withdrawing self has for the rest of humanity and the like. It doesn't help, of course, that he's been spending every other morning bent over the toilet since his best attempts at rationing his own stash of wine and spirits began to fail. He may have never heard the term porcelain altar before, but he understands the sentiment deeply.

Now though, he's laughing. Not with amusement, but with a disgusted grimace that comes with a dark sense of irony. He's pale, doesn't look nearly as well as he did before, what with his body has been going through since the turtle-wide rationing began. His face is swollen around his eye and nose, and there's blood crusted around his nose and in his mouth. Alcohol withdrawal wasn't the only cause of his current state.]

Bien sur, this would happen the first time I've gone out in days. This is lovely. [His voice dripping with sarcasm, he spits blood into the napkin in his hand before pointing at his face.] This is what your amicable natives do to foreigners when stability begins to crumble. Vagrants are always the first to be blamed when the world goes to shit, and anyone who expects any differently is lying to themselves and everyone around them. Hopeful, optimistic lies like that get the innocent and naive killed. Luckily, I'm neither innocent nor naive, and can handle being bloodied by mongrels every so often. I only hope that I've not broken another tooth.

[He doesn't even bother signing off properly or with any salutation. He just shuts the connection with a wince and a roll of his eyes.]

virginprice

[He would rather do this by text, but his English is still very awkward and he doesn't think that everyone he needs to contact would be able to read d'Angeline. Thus, he sits pale but composed, hands folded on the console in front of him.]

I am very sorry to announce that Mademoiselle Favrielle nó Eglantine is no longer present on Tu Vishan. My heart goes out to all who knew her- she was a very good friend to me and to many others, I am certain.

[He looks down, remembering what he has to say next and taking a calming breath, and then looks back up.]

She has given me the ownership of her business, and I hope that everyone working for her now will continue to do so- if we could have a meeting in a day or two, I think that would be for the best.

In addition, she has left letters and gifts for some of those who remain. [He reads the list of names out carefully.] Nita, Stephanie, Kyle, Oliver, Bucky, Bruce, Dorian, Henry, Inara, Sep, Peggy, Amon- there is something for each of you. Please contact me so that we can make arrangements for its delivery.

I have also been instructed to tell any ladies of her acquaintance that they may have what they like from her wardrobe.

[He can't make himself smile right now, so he just nods.]

Again, I am sorry to be the one to deliver this news. I wish I did not have to.

mopirates_moproblems

[James hasn't made a post since his first - in part because he's terribly lost. He has proper clothes, now, thanks to Favrielle, but it is still overwhelming to be in such a foreign place. His concern isn't so much the rationing, though that seems to be quite the source of anxiety for some he's encountered. What he wants is answers to the many and contradictory things he's been told since his arrival.]

I find myself at something of a loss, in this place, with so many people from such seemingly different times and places. It seems impossible that one person could have brought us here, and insensible that they should.

[That, though, is a subject he's sure has been at the center of many debates. What truly haunts him is what he heard from Peggy and Ariadne before.] I was led to believe that this place was a sort of afterlife, and yet, if I understand correctly, there are some here with ambitions to return to their homes. I do not see how such a thing could be accomplished.

[And that's it. No suggestions, he's just mulling. Aloud, and in public, which, he realizes now, is terribly unseemly.]

Forgive me. There is little purpose to these musings. Perhaps they are better off left unvoiced.

Tu Shanshu

01. they build you up so high

[Filtered: Les Amis (including Temeraire, and yes, you too, Courfeyrac's Puppy),

2 ❂ [video]

[This was this morning network! Video Post]

video, backdated to the afternoon of the 19th!

oo1 ; [ video ]

[Filtered Text Post: Malicant Team 7 (Temeraire, Combeferre, Javert)]

oo1 | video

[Video Post:]

Video Post

voice, locked from Grantaire, backdated to Saturdayish

text, French

(no subject)

trois, video

Verse 05 -- Video

1ère mélodie | video | On est laid à Nanterre, c'est la faute à Voltaire.

004 | video

video;

Voice;

Verse 03 -- Video

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