Mι∂ηιgнт ιη Ƥαяιѕ

[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP, set anywhere from 1879 alternate history France to 21st century North America. A tale of two brothers and the witch and her golem who gets entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➤ PART I ➢ "La Caravane".

Comments

[pragnanz]

[ There are things outside of the scope of Claude's understanding: living for 500+ years, for one. Living is hard enough already, without the added nuisance of immortality— or maybe that would make it easier, eventually not caring. Something to look forward to.

It's simpler. Pragmatism, utility. People in neat categories, with only one outlier. He would prefer that no one remember him if he died: a blank sheet of paper is far more aesthetically pleasing than a mess of scribbles and wrinkles.

He hears Oren, but prefers not to notice the weight. Or prefers to pretend not to. Same difference. ]

Something to think about for the night.

[oren]

[People like Berna and Iona were the ones that caused gravitation or directly pulled others towards them; forces of nature in their own right. Oren here, is thinking with some mild amusement at how Claude really did walk into a trap, that was the Midnight Grind.]

Anyway.

[Oren stares at Gus.]

Really should sleep. Or at least go to your bedroom.

[A beat.]

I don't sleep.

[Not a, "I can't," or "I don't want to." Sleeping just isn't a necessary function for a golem and Oren doesn't suffer for it.]

[pragnanz]

We'll be off to our rooms, then.

[ And, well. It's a bit of a struggle to get Gus's attention, and the conversation goes a bit like: "Auguste." "Mm." "Your room." "Mm." "He'll be turning the lights off." "Mm." "I can't carry you." "Mm." "I can, however, anesthetize and drag you." "—Okay, okay, going!"

Gus flops past first, carrying a load of tools and parts in his arms, followed by Claude; still upright, but with just a hint of fatigue in his shoulders. ]

[infusion]

[The hallway is supposed to be small, but it's been tinkered with so that there are two extra doors in an expanded space that Iona made herself. The walls are surprisingly sparse aside from the lights on the ceiling.

What sticks out is a color photograph, of two people, a husband and wife, and two children, smiling at the camera; the background behind them is at a rose garden which frames and captures the happiness of this family. The father sports glasses and has a twinkle in his eye. His wife rests her head on his shoulder and shares the same warm brown eyes as Iona. The young boy is in his teens, stands tall and stern and standing on his feet, a girl with wild unruly hair shows off a toothy smile and grass stained jeans. It was a memory that now adorns the wall of the mostly blank walls and it was right next to...

Iona sticks her head out of her bedroom door.]

Oh, finally going to bed? If you need anything, you can wake me up, but Oren's there too.

[Well, she got over that silly flirting argument at least.]

[pragnanz]

[ A warm, happy family. Claude takes a look at the photo on his way to his room (Gus too busy tinkering to notice, despite the quick 'bonne nuit' he flashes Iona's way), and even bothers looking mildly surprised when he's called to.

Ugh, sentimentality.

He has to compartmentalize, so of course, he goes for the most grating option: be as annoying as possible before he can be in the privacy of his room. ]

I'm surprised that he doesn't sleep with you. [ Claude..............god ] Sleep well, Miss Iona.

[infusion]

[Iona raises a brow, but mostly takes Claude's jab with some humor. And of course, a jab back.]

He'd start trying to clean my room in the middle of the night.

But you sleep well too, guys.