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[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

[oren]

Eat something that isn't sweet.

[AND HE DEFLECTS...!!!]

[effet]

[ Claude, munching on his simple buttered toast, silently slides the sunny-side up to his brother.

Gus sulks. ]

You know what I'm trying to ask...!

[oren]

[EAT ALL THE TOAST. EAT IT.

Oren is clearing away some of the mess he's made before replying to Gus.]

Asking what exactly?

[effet]

If I can explore? I'm good at it, so don't worry.

[oren]

Not by yourself, no.

You don't speak English. Not many here speak French.

[effet]

...?

Wait, what language are you speaking with me right now?

[ This is so difficult. ]

[oren]

Magic.

[WOW OREN SO HELPFUL]

Basically, you hear what you understand.

That said. I know French. I speak in English though.

1/2

[effet]

Magic isn't a language?!

[effet]

But alright...whatever, you can speak to us, right? But no one else here can? Can't you...just magic it so I can?

[oren]

[The golem closes his eyes as if making a, "Lord, give me patience," expression. And thus, he patiently explains to Gus.]

Certain spells aren't simple. Takes comprehension and potency. I have both, mostly the latter. I'm not the same as Iona.

[It's been heavily alluded that Oren isn't human after all.]

Still. Gives me an idea. We'll go to Iona's school. I'll make her cast it.

[effet]

[ The 500 years thing's clued Gus in, thankfully, so he just...selective hearing-s the rest, for the sake of his own sanity and his quickly overflowing mind. Too much info coming in at once, he has to pick and choose.

But he looks significantly more pleased when Oren suggests an outing! Not that he wouldn't have been fine staying in and taking apart computers, but he can do that anytime. ]

Now you're really speaking my language! I'm ready to go anytime after I finish this piece of toast.

[oren]

The one that isn't sweet.

[Not even a, "Right?" to confirm. Just. No sugar.]

[effet]

Yeah, yeah... the one that isn't sweet. God, it's like being home all over again...

[oren]

Balance important. I saw what you ate in Paris.

Terrible.

[OREN...]

[effet]

[ And, with slight petulance: ]

Who's the one that said not to ask too much from each other?

[oren]

Not asking. Telling it like it is.

[SEE WHAT A BABY OREN CAN BE TOO]

[pragnanz]

[ CHILDREN...

Without saying a word, Claude reaches for the rest of Gus's food, finishes it off in a few quick bites, wipes his hand on a napkin, and gets up. ]

Problem solved.

When will we be leaving?

[oren]

[Oh my god that doesn't count!!! Well, whatever, Oren supposes.]

20 minutes. Be ready. Will lead you around the city.

[Because he's going to wrap up the rest of the toasts and put them in a basket to give to Iona's classmates. Yeah.]

[pragnanz]

Whenever our host is ready.

[ It's not like Claude hasn't been ready since he got dressed...but still. He moves over to his sulking brother, fixes his hair for a few seconds (Gus lets him, as sullen as he looks), and then steps back: Gus is a better fit for this century, he concludes to himself. Not that it surprises him, knowing how malleable his brother is in most situations.

Meanwhile, he tries to think of the few English phrases he knows from literature and the occasional foreigner that he's met. He tries out a 'hello', then a 'how do you do'. Has language evolved since the 1800s...? He supposes it has, but it can't be helped. He'll have to make do with 'how lovely' and 'yes, very much so'. ]

[oren]

[Oren, while also adding some bottled water (college students these days love free foods and drinks), overhears Gus.]

Hm.

Could reread some French myself.

[effet]

[ Gus's English is a little less stilted than Claude's, but they've both decided that they'll make do. I mean, Oren does fine, and he speaks in syllables... sick burn.

A shrug, and Gus gets up, smooths his new ~modern~ threads down. ]

Well, good thing you have conversation partners right here. The best way to learn anything is by doing it firsthand, yeah?

[ Says the guy that has a knack for picking things up, but shh. ]

[oren]

Last time I was in Paris. Early 1900s.

Interesting time period.

[effet]

Yeah....definitely wasn't...isn't? Alive for that. Yet? Time is weird.

[oren]

Probably will be different for you.

[And that's all Oren's saying about the matter. He closes the basket and takes out a phone in his front pocket to text Iona.]

Leave now. She'll be expecting us.

[pragnanz]

[ And...that's that. Claude, of course, waffles with whether or not weaponry will be required in their merry romp around modern-day America, but decides (wisely) that carrying his pistol will likely draw more attention than less. He elects to carry nothing at all while Gus totes his phones— one intact, the other put haphazardly together in a loud jumble and crammed in wide pockets.

For all intents and purposes, they look very...normal, save for perhaps the way Claude carries himself, tall and straight, and the way Gus roams the moment he gets let out, like a dog off his leash. ]

Don't stray too far.

[ Is the only reprimand Claude offers to his brother, currently engrossed in looking at someone's parked car. ]