tushanshu | Entries tagged with † jean prouvaire

[Here's a seldom seen face on the network. Jehan's been sick and it shows--he's paler than normal and he sounds a little stuffy.

(The illness was actually convenient. He hasn't been feeling very sociable and this gave him a very good reason to not be sociable.)

But he is feeling better and he supposes he'd best let whoever may have been looking for him know, as well as see who all has shown up in his absence. In the background, you can hear his panpipes playing 19th century Christmas carols]

I had forgotten that simply because I am indisposed does not mean that the world at large is equally indisposed. I have been largely unavailable for the last month, for reasons I suspect are obvious [and here he turns to cough] and I am afraid I have no idea where we are or what has happened. Would anyone be so kind as to, ah, inform me?

For those who may have joined us in the last month, or for those who may have forgotten my face, I am Jean Prouvaire, formerly of Paris.

fliesonfour

['The Emperor' was very odd title for a woman, indeed it was.

When Joly had awoken, a few thoughts had stabbed into his mind all at once. That was merely one of them. The first, vaguely and upon seeing a white mist, was that steam was a sterilizing agent. This memory floated past his dazed mind like the tune of a song stuck in one's head; a little incoherent, but familiar. The second was that he happened to be in a tub, which was a sensible enough place to be, if one hadn't just been upon a barricade.

Were he not so weak of limb (myasthenia? dystrophy?) and fatigued, he might have thought upon that harder. Were it not such a difficult thing to think upon in general; smoke, yelling, and that very distinct smell of-- ...well; he might have made a better effort to fish among the depth of those memories, nervous and worried and ailing as they were.

As it was, by the time the whole of the process were said and done, and he was standing, bemused, among a city he did not know, with a device so odd upon his palm that he quite nearly found it charming, he was ready to recount to any who might be hearing it:]

It's very curious, to lead a Republican life, then to close one's eyes for a nap, and awake in the bathtub of an Empress.

[Keeliai, have a young man in a bloodied shirt with a wince on the lines his face but a smile on his mouth. Despite the alarm he could feel roiling in the pit of his stomach, the anxiety clear in his stare, and his confusion as to the glare of the lights and the thrum of his healing body, he took in the new location with a tamed confusion, and idly went to rub some dust from his coat sleeve in an inborn gesture.]

I have a friend or two who'd be much amused by such a thing! Little ironies, et cetra. The oppression of bathtubs, in which the monarchs feed the people lyes. ...And more who'd be severely dispassionate about the whole matter.

[His voice pitched bit higher than usual, keyed up by concern over the fate of his friends, and his own. Despite it, he managed a good-natured look at the... thing in his hand... at his little joke, before relenting to those who might assist him.]

I might ask if anyone has seen such good friends? A fair place to begin. Decidedly.

My name is Joly; lately of Paris, more recently of Mam'selle Napoleon's receptacle.

[And he'd make a little bow, if he knew what at. Instead, he settles for a nervous smile and another idle rub at a part of his body that, worriedly, is still aching a bit. It's difficult to hold down the panic, but he's hinging; possibly literally!; on some news of a friendly face or two. Or all.]

trifurcate

[Bryn starts a video feed, revealing that she is not in fact in her suite, but rather in the Brazen Turtle on its first floor. Drink close at hand, she simply smiles a moment before leaning down, resting her elbow on the console and her chin on her hand.]

Out of curiosity, does anyone have any traditions for celebrating birthdays from their world? Or perhaps in their family? Or are there some birthdays that are more important than others? Perhaps a "coming of age" birthday or something?

[She asks because her own is coming up, and a 26th birthday is important to a Gifted. It gets her wondering what she ought to do here in Keeliai with Jhirem out of touch, making many of the traditions she'd follow a bit difficult.]

[Basic Encryption to Balthazar]

It's a little quiet here at at the bar tonight. I don't suppose I could tempt you here with a free drink and some excellent company, could I?

depicted

[It's video, so it's clear that Dorian looks the same. Still the bright roses of youth on his cheek, still the crisp dark curls on his head. The candour of youth in his face, and 'youth's passionate purity' in his smile. To look at him, you'd think he had kept himself unspotted from the world—even if all that the blue smoke around him is from one of Lord Henry's opium-tainted cigarettes.

But that is the visual half of things. As for the audio half?]

1986. The summer. [For audio, there is something torn in that low and musical voice, something of electrohouse's wretched distortion ripping the guts out of the base and leaving the jagged beat in its wake.

Dorian laughs.] It was 1986, it was the summer, and Highlander came out for UK audiences. Crooned over scenes of loss, Freddie Mercury asks a question he'll never need to answer: "Who wants to live forever?" [The cigarette held away, conductor holding the note to let the question hang.]

[And callously, we're back.] Contemporary efforts in medicine might suggest 'just about everyone,' but in stories about immortals, the weariness is always more loss of people than loss of time. It's more that you're watching your granddaughter's funeral than it is that the shop beside the graveyard is a chain electronics place instead of the private member's club where you met her grandmother decades ago.

[Another drag of the cigarette. He is still smiling a pleasant, youthful smile.] But it occurred to me, speaking with Rebecca, that that sense of loss, of friendships brief as mayfly lives, is one we all get to share here. It's not a curse of immortality, something known only in a long term. It's frequent, repetitive, and to all intents and purposes, mundane. We foreigners just lose people, over and over and over and over, and there is never any resolution to any of it. Like the workroom of a perfectionist, it's a slaughterhouse of unfinished stories, and the corpses just keep piling up. Only corpses would give more closure than disappearances, and we aren't likely to be here ourselves by the time we can hold a funeral.

So we get used to it. We cope and we carry on. [Cigarette between his fingers, he gives a salute that somehow doesn't come across as sarcastic.] Congratulations on all the recent efforts, and good luck to everyone still with us in the future.

[Dorian holds up a mobile phone (circa 2007) with all lightness of touch and tone.] Does anyone have anything to for a mobile's battery? I left the charger in the 21st century, and I'd like to get my music off of this, but it gave out.

virginprice

I was looking at my records for the store this morning, and I realized that it has now been six months since Favrielle nó Eglantine left.

[Alcuin sighs and pushes his hair out of his face, looking rather sad.]

It seems strange to miss her so much when we had never met before my arrival, but it is easier, I think, to have someone who understands where you come from and who shares your values and beliefs. If we had to be in exile, at least we were suffering together.

[A corner of his mouth twists briefly in a wry smile.]

Forgive me, I am not usually so cheerless. But it put me in mind of a poem, one of the most famous of the current day in my land. It was written by a woman who was exiled from Terre d'Ange, but who later returned and became the court poet.

[He clears his throat and recites from memory.]

Beneath the golden balm
Settling on the fields
Evening steals in calm
And farmers count their yields
The bee is in the lavender,
The honey fills the comb,
But here a rain falls never-ending
And I am far from home.

[His voice drops on the last line, becoming quiet and sad, and he hastily ends the broadcast.]

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?

poeticverses

[The feed opens up on a bewildered Jehan. He has in his hands a set of panpipes]

While I was out in the city today, I came across these panpipes at the base of one of the arches in the city. No sooner did I pick it up then this--

[He's cut off by the pipes playing the first part of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique. After a moment, it automatically quiets down so it's just a little background music as Jehan speaks]

--happened. As I returned home, it began to play Ave Maria when I began to hum it. I do not know how it knows these songs nor how it is possible for a set of pipes to play them, yet it does and it is. If these belong to you, I am in the Wood Sector if you wish to retrieve them.

[He hopes no one claims them. They're marvelous.

Lucky for him that no one will]

epigrammatical

[AUDIO, public. The morning after the event ends and Tu Vishan starts moving again.]

I am not alone, I gather, in detecting a change in the air here. It is rather like waking on the very first day of the Season, with all the possibility that lies ahead—or waking the morning after the last day, with the happy knowledge that one need not be at home to anyone that day. We have, I suppose, escaped the fate of Des Esseintes's tortoise.

[AUDIO, private to Dorian Gray.]

( Read more... )

poeticverses

[The feed's just a voice one today. Jehan wants it to be quick and to the point]

I apologize for this announcement, as it could not possibly come at a worse time, but I feel it is my duty as his friend to let others know. If you knew Grantaire, he is no longer here. It is possible that his disappearance is connected to the rapid decay of Asti in these last few days though I do not think that is likely to be the cause.

[Still, you never know.]

It would not hurt to keep in contact with friends here, should this illness lead to more disappearances.

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

poeticverses

[Voice today since Jehan is using the device in Grantaire's apartment and doesn't want everyone to see the miserable lump of humanity that is their resident former drunk. Seriously, it's not pretty. There's two reasons for this post. The first he gets to right away.]

As there are many people from what to me is the future, I am hoping someone might be able to help. I've a friend who...is not taking to the rationing of wine and other alcohol very well. He has been ill for most of this month and while he is starting to look a bit healthier, I was wondering if the future had developed some method or tincture or...anything, really, to help with the dizziness and fatigue.

[And the shakes, just in case they come back. And the nausea. But he won't get into that mess.]

I thank you in advance.

[There's a brief pause before he moves on to the second point. He sounds a little unsure]

I understand that, several days ago, others may have had strange dreams. I, too, had one, and while I cannot remember most of it, I do distinctly remember waking up with the idea that someone had told me the turtle--Tu Vishan, that is--might enjoy company. Obviously he cannot speak with us, but perhaps simply having people closer to him might help him recover. A strange idea, I know, but if having company helps humans why would it not help our host? I cannot make my way towards his head at the moment, but others could if they were so inclined. It is just a thought.

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?

cynisme

[It happens that at the moment when the connection is made, there is a hand in the way. His fingers are fumbling to try to turn the console on, and he doesn't realize that he has. When he does, he pulls his hand away and rubs his face. He's as pale as he was before landfall, and shaking harder. He looks sick, as he should given how poorly he managed his alcohol as of late. For a moment he's grinning, mostly at his own stupidity, dragging his hand over his face.]

Forget it, I did this to myself, begging be damned. Christ in Heaven, I would kiss my father's boots for a franc of his...

[And he turns the connection off, and that's it.]

( ooc: this may be used for action threads of all withdrawal variety for an extended period of time throughout continued rationing. )

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

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.))

idkmybffpyramid

[Reno looks fairly different from how he usually is on the network. Usually he's a bit more... Friendly. Carefree, even. (Initial post notwithstanding, of course.) Today he's serious, downright pensive perhaps. A bit troubled because a) he'd really not like to be making posts on the network at all, but also because he's 100% ~~paranoid~~ sure the Emperor or someone is probably keeping tabs on what they say on here.

There's no other way to go about it really, alas.]

So I've got a few questions.

[he holds up a finger, numbering each one as he goes]

One: How many of you have asked the Emperor for access to her library?

Two: How many of you have actually been granted access?

And three: How many of you have found anything that is - even by a stretch of the imagination - useful?

[He leans back in his seat and takes a sip of his tea (he's in a console cafe in Water, for the curious.) It's not bad, though maybe he's just not enough of a tea drinker to care. Anyway, he purses his lips in thought for a moment before his expression settles into an easy smile.]

"Now Reno," I hear you say, "what even counts as 'useful'? And what kind of question is this anyway?" And the short answer to that is that I have no idea. [he shrugs for emphasis] I imagine we all have a lot of different priorities here, everyone's gonna zero in on something different. Hence 'even by a stretch of the imagination'. Hell, you don't even need to tell me what it is. If it seems relevant enough to you, it's relevant enough to this impromptu survey of mine.

Just, I occasionally hear people talking about it like it's this holy grail of information, and I'm wondering if maybe we shouldn't be looking somewhere else. Not least until people start getting literate in the local languages.

virginprice

[The acute observer may notice two things different about Alcuin. The first is that there's a faint pattern of lines on his forehead that seem to form some kind of mark. The second is the bruise on his temple- the edges are fading to yellow and green, but it's still dark purple at the heart, though somewhat hidden under his hair.

But he doesn't seem to be minding either of them, instead looking pleased as he holds a small book in his hands.]

Some of the fruits of our docking at that city were sweeter than others.

[That's a joke. Definitely a joke. He hasn't been in evidence much, besides going to work everyday. Landfall was rough.]

A friend of mine was kind enough to gift me one of his discoveries- a book of poems written by my lover, Anafiel Delaunay. I cannot guess how it came to be there, but I am so glad that it was.

[He runs his fingers over the cover fondly.]

You see, back at home these poems were banned. It was unlawful to speak them aloud, or even to own a copy- not through any fault of the poetry, there were politics involved. But I would like to read you one of them, one of my favourites. It will be the first time that it has been spoken in public in many years.

( Cut for length and vague sexual content. )

[He closes the book, smiling softly- caught in a reminiscence of Delaunay. After a moment, he remembers the camera and turns it off.]

knowsherway

[Ah, success! Eponine has succeeded in getting the console to work, which she considers quite a lofty feat since devices like this are not exactly common where she is from. But in any case, it is on, and that is what counts.

She is seated and looking quite comfortable in her room. Yes, she feels comfortable, but a little bored at the same time. She has been passing the time by wandering about the city, but surely people here do more than that to pass the time.

And that is the reason why she has turned on the console: to learn from others what sort of things they get up to for enjoyment and amusement.]

Ah, hello! Now that I have succeeded in turning this object on, I have something I would like to ask you. [This does feel slightly awkward, speaking to people she has not yet met, but she presses on resolutely anyway.]

Because it seems as though we are going to be here for quite some time, I have begun to wonder about some things. How do you pass the time? I find myself growing rather bored, although I have spent some time walking through the city. But I cannot do that forever, or I do not think I want to do that forever.

Come! You must have some favorite thing that amuses you! I would like to hear it, if you are agreeable.

cravats

[When the video turns on, Lyall is doing up one of his cuffs, his expression rather more sour than usual. He quickly drops his hand when he sees that the camera has turned on already.]

Is anyone keeping track of the places where our kedan friends have devolved into open hostilities? Are there any particularly risky neighbourhoods? I was just forced to ruin a nice set of clothes to escape a particularly rude group. I liked that waistcoat, and I don't suppose I'll be able to replace it any time soon with supplies being what they are. What a pity.

At least I saved my hat.

[Indeed, people who were in the Fire Sector earlier may have seen a small wolf (or possibly a large fox) running through the streets with a bowler hat in its mouth.]

Tu Shanshu

Verse 09 - Video

Video I

video;

[video] the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner

video;

video, backdated to the afternoon of the 19th!

oo1 ; [ video ]

Verse 08 -- Video

VIII. Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you!

Verse 07 -- Voice

[Video Post:]

Verse 06 -- Voice -- May 20th, pre-event

text, French

05 | video

(no subject)

Verse 05 -- Video

002 || video

video;

001 | video

video

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