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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".

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[infusion]

Hm.

[She falls silent for a moment as she glances down at Gus. He had a strange degree of freedom for someone who held an important position in the city...

(A memory; a 12 year old Iona, pouting at her father who sternly asks her about the sleepover she's invited to. Adult supervision? How late will they be staying up? Will boys be there? Too much junk food is disagreeable to him. Her mother, washing dishes, and shaking her head, smiling at them both...)

-- Yes, they're quite invisible and it seems the bubble around them, unseen as it is, causes people to avoid walking straight into the group so any accidental collisions are nothing to worry about.]

Where do you live, Claude? Not by yourself, right?

[pragnanz]

[ It's a bi miraculous, this magic business. Claude adjusts to it slowly, stops trying to sidestep people when he notices that they do it on their own. Now if only he could do this all the time?!

A moment, to consider Iona's question. ]

Mm? Of course I live by myself. Why wouldn't I?

[infusion]

Oh. Well.

[Iona quickly gets the idea that it was preferable to him. She wants to remark about how that seems lonely, but decides to keep that to herself. The witch decides to occupy herself by looking around at the mechanical details and clocks that constantly tick. It's all incredibly foreign and fascinating for her.]

All of this... It's all really cool! How long did it take for this technology to develop and who was behind giving Paris this look?

[pragnanz]

[ Ah, he has so much more questions to ask about her world and how everything functions without all the obvious machinery, but he's fine with answering hers. ]

It's been this way for a long time— since before I was born. The three major families in Paris were responsible for the development and the foundation of mechanizing the city, and the Auberts were one of them.

[ Carefully sidestepping 'we'. ]

The Gaillards and Prevost are the other two, but the Prevost died out a few decades ago.

[infusion]

[Iona nods, taking in all this new information seriously.]

So by, "died out," do you mean razed to the ground?

[Okay, so maybe she didn't sound serious about it. She readjusts Gus so his neck lays more comfortably in the crook of her arm.]

And those guys in suits after Gus the other day... They're the Galliards or hired by them?

[pragnanz]

Slowly eradicated. [ Is his correction, delivered smoothly as he turns a corner down a busier open road, lined with bigger apartments, more stately homes. ] If you look at a map of Paris, you'll see that the area north of the Seine is comprised of 14 arrondissements— that used to be divided evenly between the Auberts and the Prevosts, but now the former has control of the entire area.

[ Read: the Aubert family isn't exactly the heroes of this story. Claude seems well aware, and glances at Gus with a degree of solemnness. ]

So, yes. The Gaillards have control over only 6 of the 20 districts, which is enough for Auguste to earn their ire, and whatever remains of those formerly loyal to the Prevosts are eager to see some of their former glory restored. He's under scrutiny from all sides, unfortunately.

[infusion]

[Wow, it's kind of more complicated than she thought...]

Guess it's a good thing he's so energetic...

[All this talk about the fight for control and power is... Similar, but not quite the same for her world. Or maybe it was just the same when looking at the basics. (There's a reason why, magickind, long lived as they were, did not have many younger powerful individuals and why Iona and Solomon are lucky to have the prestige and protection of their grandmother even if that didn't guarantee absolute safety...)]

Do the Gaillards have an heir of their own?

[pragnanz]

[ Oh god, Claude is so happy that Iona asked this question. ]

Oh, do they.

[ Contain your excitement, Claude, you're coming across as a huge gossip girl. But he'll take any opportunity he can get to trashtalk this guy. ]

I'm sure you'd love Count Gaillard— he's quite a catch.

[infusion]

Count...?

[Iona's got a thoughtful look on her face.]

Maybe it's because I'm American, but fancy titles don't tend to bode well... Alright, Claude, lay it on me. What kind of guy is he?

[pragnanz]

Handsome. Alarmingly.

[ There's a lilt to his voice, which quickly turns condescending. ]

Also exceedingly superstitious, refuses to be without his cat for more than an hour at a time, despises going outside in the rain, and publishes atrocious poetry for his subordinates to suffer through on a weekly basis.

But.

As I said, exceedingly handsome.

[infusion]

Excessive cat person and a terrible poet... But still, he's hot??

[The witch shakes her head and sighs dramatically.]

Well, if you say THAT... But does he hold a candle to Oren?

[SEE THE MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION HERE, meanwhile Oren is at a distance away, overhearing their conversation and not caring about Iona dragging him into these sort of dumb questions sheesh.]

[pragnanz]

He may— he has an impressive head of hair, to his credit.

Maybe you and Oren should visit him, the sun is out today and he may have graced Paris with his glowing presence.

[ Aka: strolling outside with his cat, his precious baby. ]

[infusion]

Huh. There are very few people who match up to Oren... [Lancer... Oh beautiful man, where are you now...]

I'll have to pass though. I already have so much fun with you and Gus.

[pragnanz]

Fun, you say, while carrying a comatose 20 year old halfway around Paris.

[ A light tease, as he ventures towards a quieter part of the city, surrounded by more greenery and older-looking buildings. There seem to be less technology in this part of town, if not for the copper wiring running up trees and walls like vines. ]

Your idea of fun is interesting, Miss Iona.

[infusion]

It's just one of those days.

And what makes you say that?

[She's taking note of the wiring... Around the trees too? It seems excessive, but it's probably necessary.]

[pragnanz]

Most people don't consider getting tangentially involved in turf wars 'fun'.

[ Plainly, blithely. He raises a brow, to emphasize how strange he finds all of this. ]

[infusion]

It's the "tangential" part that keeps it all grounded for me.

[A beat.]

The again, maybe it's not that different...

[pragnanz]

Come now. You can't possibly be so naive— people are killed every day for far less.

[ He says, as he leads her through a gated entrance, down a long gravel path that leads to an impressive stone-built mansion. ]

[infusion]

["Don't look!"

Solomon's hands wrap around her eyes, obscuring the sight of their parent's bedroom. Her big brother, her strong brother was shaking. The trembling of his finger tips reached down and pierced her heart and plunged her into a world neither of them had prepared for.

"Don't look."

Iona doesn't look at Claude and stares at the foreboding mansion instead.]

... I know.

[pragnanz]

[ Ah. That moment of silence is...something, he notes it as either accepting her current situation or something he doesn't quite want to put a name to.

He cuts through the lawn, avoids the front door to go to the back of the mansion. ]

As long as you know where you stand, I'm sure you'll be alright.

[ Is that a warning? Possibly. ]

[infusion]

Oooh, fancy.

[She follows him inside and looks around appreciatively. Organized crime or not, Iona likes the taste in architecture.]

Are you gonna try and slip back to your place, unnoticed?

[she wants to stick around out of insatiable curiosity.]

[pragnanz]

[ The interior is slightly modern, but with a semi-Victorian twist: dimly lit, smelling faintly of musty carpeting. Claude never did like this house very much.

He leads Iona down a deserted hall, past a row of heavy-looking doors, to one of Gus's private studies.

The room, predictably, Is A Mess. ]

I doubt anyone is looking for me, but yes— slipping back unnoticed would be preferable. People are still contacting me about you.

1/2

[infusion]

[Ack, she's trying not to trip over anything, lest she drops poor Gus onto the messy floor.]

Then I'll continue my invisibility services for you! Nuts to those people though.

Gives me a chance to see more of the city anyways and--...

[She turns her head to look at Oren who's...]

Oren... You don't need to clean the room. I know it's painful, but leave it.

[oren]

[The state of this room's cleanliness is distressing and Oren, who had stopped to sweep a bunch of papers into his arms... Releases them upon Iona's order.

Look... No place should be this messy...]

[pragnanz]

[ It's full of... Stuff, bric-a-brak, half-completed projects and half-read papers and reports. Claude motions to a divan in the corner of the room where Iona can deposit his brother, piled high with wiring that he moves onto the floor.

Yeah. Sorry, Oren. ]

He prefers it this unclean, he says it makes for inspiration.