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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]

[(MUST SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST...) She looks happy at the offer and nods excitedly.]

Please do! Ahhh, I wonder if I can take pictures too, I did bring my phone...

[pragnanz]

[ Well. That's that, so he charts out a route for them to walk through: up the slightly hilly side of town and past the famous chapels, through streets lined with artists and performers, through the Bohemian district, and to the quiet, unassuming street his apartment is on. He's not a huge fan of being social, but this isn't bad; he's just returning the favor. ]

If you'd like. Do make sure to keep them private, though.

[infusion]

[Ooooh, the Bohemian district. All the art is Relevant with a captial 'R' so Iona proceeds to take out her phone.

By reaching down her shirt where her phone was resting in her bra. Yeah. One of those. Oren doesn't comment, but his look is basically going, "DISAPPROVE."]

[pragnanz]

[ He's seen worse, so he doesn't bat an eye— he's been in the Moulin Rouge for reasons that mostly involve dragging Gus out.

But he does look at Oren, and comment blithely: ]

It's a good thing she's invisible.

[oren]

[Lord give Oren mercy if Iona thinks about the Moulin Rouge because of that one goddamn movie...... its gonna happen...]

Would do the same visible.

[pragnanz]

I don't doubt it.

[ He really doesn't... but, well. The chapels are first on his list and that's the direction he heads in, towards greenery that become less and less stifled by the machination of the rest of the city. ]

Make sure not to get lost, please— I wouldn't be able to tell.

[infusion]

Whoops! Give me a sec!

[She snaps a few pictures of some performers, the canvas of a frustrated painter, and several others before trotting up behind Claude.]

Ah, everything they're working on is so great!! The pigments are different as expected, but... Mm hm! I'm definitely inspired. I might just have a good final painting after all!

[pragnanz]

That's right, you paint. A hobby, or an aspiration?

[ Hm. This makes him wonder if he should take her straight to the more Bohemian areas... maybe she'd appreciate that more. ]

[infusion]

More of the former. But that doesn't mean I love it any less! It's a great way to relax and take my mind off things...

[She stands behind one young artist whose brows are furrowed in deep concentration as he tries to capture the hues of the blushing pink roses in front of him.]

Hm... He should try and add some ultramarine. He'd be surprised how much that'd make it pop.

[pragnanz]

[ Aaaand here's Claude, looming over her shoulder to look at what the painter is doing. ]

If we're invisible, I don't suppose they can hear your advice, either. Shame.

[infusion]

Guh!

[STOP BEING TALLER THAN HER!!]

Do I have to make the bubble bigger or...?

[pragnanz]

No need. I'll stand at least four feet away from you at all times, if that'd make you more comfortable.

[ Scooting away, gracefully... ]

—The Moulin Rouge is nearby, but I suppose it's not a place to take a lady.

[infusion]

Look, it's not...

[Her sentence is cut off short when he mentions THAT place. Her eyes widen and then she turns to Oren who raises a brow, but keeps his thoughts to himself. (He's... Been there. To the alternate version with Berna. That's another story).

Iona whips her head back to look at Claude, her eyes SHINING.]

It exists!?

[pragnanz]

[ Ah... that's not quite the reaction he was expecting, in all honesty?! ]

Y...es, of course. Even I wouldn't suggest going to a fake location. I'm glad you think so highly of me.

[infusion]

No, it's just... I mean, Berna talked about it before, but it's the story that's based on the place that's... Oh my god, I wanna see!

[She looks like she's practically bouncing at the thought of being able to visit.]

Like, don't get me wrong, I get that it's probably not a "decent" place to be, but what the hell right? As long as I'm here and have a working camera...!

[Maybe she'll show her pictures to Monts or even... No, not Hei, he'd be wondering why she was gallivanting about in alternate history anyways.]

[pragnanz]

I'm sure all stories about the place have been greatly exaggerated.

[ Not that he doesn't appreciate her enthusiasm, but of all the things people remember about Paris, of course it would be the Moulin Rouge... why is he not surprised.

He turns on his heels, looks vaguely amused by her enthusiasm. ]

Off we go, then.

[infusion]

Even the Green Fairy Juice??

[She walks beside him this time, hands behind her back, trying to keep her anticipation under wraps.]

Although, I bet it's more active during the nighttime, right?

[pragnanz]

Green Fairy Juice?

[ What are these moderners saying about Paris, all the way in 2015...? Ah, well. ]

...But, yes. Livelier, and far less savory for a young woman, I'd imagine. They'd be doing rehearsals right now.

[infusion]

Absinthe!

But yeah, long story short, someone made up a completely fictional tale set in the Moulin Rouge; it's all good fun! I like it a lot.

[granted it had a sad ending but

She grins to herself as she recalls the Moulin Rouge's eponymous film which is supposed to be made two centuries later...

And thus Iona begins to hum, "Sparkling Diamonds," as they make their way to the infamous theater.]

[pragnanz]

[ That's not too far-fetched: romanticizing happens, and he won't begrudge Iona for it.

When they do pull up to the Moulin Rouge, the club's namesake is swaying gently in the breeze, a red pennant in a dim sky. There are stragglers from the day before, presumably, still sleeping in alleys or waiting for their girl of choice to show up for afternoon rehearsals. Girls linger outside the front door, chatting animatedly to each other about daily trivialities.

It seems plain in daylight: just another building with a bit of glitz and glitter. The lights are off, but they do promise a good time when they turn on, foundations and walls adorned with polished glass. ]

There. Is it everything you've hoped it would be?

[oren]

[Iona's taking a picture of the sign, oohing and ahhhing at how it's actually red and then getting as close as possible to overhear the conversations of the cabaret girls, trying to get a gist of what's been going on.

Oren in the meanwhile is looking up at the sign and a sense of nostalgia settles over the golem.]

Very much the same.

[pragnanz]

[ This isn't the exact replica you'd find in the conventional world— the one in the world proper was built a decade or so after Claude's time, for example— but it does look largely the same, but with brass lining the famous windmill, with canvas pulled tightly over the wings to make them look like functional propellers. A bit of that mechanical edge.

Claude glances at Oren, lifts a brow. ]

I didn't know you frequented places like this.

[oren]

Berna set up shop. Not too far from here. Made jewelry.

Came here for her enjoyment.

[pragnanz]

She sounds like someone who would, your former Master.

Are you going to let Miss Iona wander around inside, or are you averse to bad influences?

[oren]

[Iona is immersed in a conversation between two girls about a troublesome client who was being a stiff when it came to payment so Oren shakes his head.]

Controlling herself. Fine for now.

[And then it occurs to him...]

... Gus. Goes here? Rejections?

[OREN YOU ARE SO MEAN...]