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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

[pragnanz]

And what if it does? You'll earn the interest of a man quite a bit older than you, and all the baggage that comes with him. I'd be hard-pressed to find that anything but downhill.

[ He laughs again, gently pushing his empty cup to the side. ]

[infusion]

[Well. Can't say she saw this coming and for a split second she isn't sure how to respond. But just a split second. Because she just reaches over and pokes Claude on the forehead with one finger.]

The "stripping seductress" here is thinking that you're being a being disingenuous.

[pragnanz]

She would be right. I've never been candid about anything in my entire life, unfortunately.

[ Is this also him being disingenuous? Absolutely.

He returns the poke with a tilt back in his chair, pulling his face out of her range. ]

[infusion]

[Iona deflates by pulling back and then resting her chin on the table with a sigh.]

... It goes without saying, but I'm happy both you and Gus are safe. When I didn't hear anything, I was starting to... I don't know. I didn't prep myself well enough.

[pragnanz]

For what? Our absence? I'm sure Auguste must have shattered any illusion you may have had about a life in which he didn't come knocking, so I've nothing further to add to that.

[ Immediately defensive the moment Iona starts mentioning feelings and emotions: Claude Aubert. ]

You worry too much. If you'd spare half your heart worrying about things of actual importance, I'm sure you wouldn't get yourself caught up in messes like ours.

[infusion]

I worried about my brother getting a cold and wrestled a werewolf... Does that count?

[She may be joking, but for reals it's not as if she isn't busy...]

[pragnanz]

Wrestled a werewolf.

[ SO, SO BLITHELY... ]

Your seduction techniques leave much to be desired.

[ CLAUDE?! what is this assumption?! ]

[infusion]

[Okay, that makes her chortle, lightening the mood around her a bit.]

Thanks for the critique on my wooing skills.

[pragnanz]

A sad day, when you need to take advice from me on the art of wooing.

[ Not that he can't do it, but??? ]

Does that work for you? Wrestling?

[infusion]

Everyone runs away in the end. Strange.

[She sips her water and smiles pleasantly at Claude.]

[pragnanz]

I'm sure Auguste wouldn't. Be gentle with him.

[ Claude?! But he mirrors her smile, and carefully leans back in his chair. ]

1/2

[infusion]

Man, if I was a lesser person, I'd spit my water out...

Although if we're talking about actual wrestling and not the other wrestling, he'll have to get through Oren first.

... I'm confused.

[oren]

Wouldn't live.

[not helping oren]

[pragnanz]

My God, I do hope he won't be wrestling with Oren anytime soon. I've no desire to watch that sort of illicit affair.

[ What is he implying ]

[infusion]

[Okay, okay, Iona is giving up, although giving up as in burying her face in her arms because she is cracking uuuuup. She lifts her head up to grin at him, trying to catch her breath.]

I have no idea how we directed the conversation this way, but I for one, am having a great time.

[pragnanz]

[ Ah, oh no, why... he thought she'd be more put-upon by implying something like this?! And yet, she's laughing. Why is it that for all his attempts to make Iona Not Like Him, she manages to smile at him anyway...?

He looks puzzled for precisely a second, before the expression smooths over. ]

...So you're in support of Auguste courting your golem?

[ Claude you know that that's not what she's saying.... god. ]

[infusion]

Gus can at least try to get on Oren's good side so he won't put fake sugar in his food to inflict on your brother.

[Oren is not reacting because. He's Oren. But he WAS planning on the fake sugar thing, and by god he will abide by it.]

[pragnanz]

Ah, how sadistic of you both. Remove those simple pleasures from Auguste's life, and he'll be a third of the person he is right now.

...It may calm him down some, though.

[ Gus, somewhere, sneezes into his donut. ]

[infusion]

It's on Oren. He mostly does the baking and cooking for the cafe!

[Iona's own baking and cooking skills are only where they are because of him after all and Oren has more time and patience to make everything for the Grind.]

Is Gus someone who runs on sugar for his brain to function...?

[pragnanz]

Hm. No— he runs on passion. Sweets just happen to be within those passions, and he happens to be very vocal about them.

[ Meaning that Gus is deceptively smart when he wants to be, he just chooses simpler things to pitch himself at. It makes sense, to a certain extent: so much of his life is heavy, it benefits him to look for alternatives. ]

As someone who's being suspected of treasonous mindsets, however, I should refrain from saying anything too unflattering about Auguste. Walls have ears.

[infusion]

Well, these walls are probably the safest for you at this point.

[Iona pops a wafer cookie into her mouth before continuing, looking thoughtful.]

It's still just you and Gus isn't it? No one else seems to find this door where you're from.

[pragnanz]

Is it? You'd know that better than I do. Is it really so rare, for normal humans like us to stumble into this place?

[ It doesn't really resonate, the rarity of the Grind— he comes here with a degree of regularity, and he does find it a bit strange that he and his half-brother are exceptions to this rule. ]

Though that may be for the best. We've some unsavory characters milling about in the city, after all.

[infusion]

Fair enough, fair enough. It really is kind of rare though. I've mentioned it before, but most "normal" people usually just find this place once or twice. And then they won't give it a second thought.

I'm happy that you two are becoming regulars though! I love it even.

[pragnanz]

Mm. I've only been a regular at the funeral homes. I suppose this is a step up.

[ Claude... how grim of him. ]

Though, if anyone comes here with a cat in tow, you'd do best not to serve him. [ Here's a grimace. ] He's.

God, he's terrible.

[infusion]

[She rollls her eyes, god Claude.]

Do they serve coffee at funeral homes? I don't think so.

Oh, you're talking about that Count guy, right? Is he really that bad aside from crappy poetry and an attachment to his cat?