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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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[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?

[pragnanz]

His paranoia's only gotten worse, thanks to rumors circulating about you. The Auberts are using witchcraft, is what he's been shrieking.

[ It's actually a little hilarious, if only because Gus and witchcraft... look at that kid, he couldn't magic himself out of trouble if he tried. ]

As amusing as he is, his overreactions give me a headache. How does one person manage to be so shrill, I wonder.

[infusion]

With the way you talk about him, I'm surprised he hasn't died of a heart attack yet.

[iona don't be rude like dr. rude himself here]

For everyone's sake, I'll just. Continue to keep my brand of witchcraft out of Paris.

[And mine too, is what she reminds herself.]

[pragnanz]

Please, by all means, jinx him or whatever it is that witches do when they wish ill on others— we'd all sleep more easily if he died and his cat took his place.

[ CLAUDE?! THIS LEGIT TERRIBLE THING TO SAY?! ]

—Mm. Though, you're right. Don't get yourself too tangled in our messes, I'm not sure your heart needs any more bruising.

[infusion]

Ouch. No jinxing though. Too tricky and it backfires too much to be actually useful and productive in the end.

... Though, you know... If you really have no one else to turn to, you know I'll help, right?

1/2

[pragnanz]

[ Ah.

She keeps saying things like this. ]

Miss Iona.

I've never had anyone to turn to my whole life, and I won't be changing that anytime soon.

[pragnanz]

[ Is that uncharacteristically honest of him, or it is just another thing he's said to get under Iona's skin? It could be either— the answer is a tossup, and he certainly doesn't make it any easier for Iona to gauge, because he's right back to smiling calmly and tapping one index finger against his chin, almost as if he's amused that he's said that much. ]

But, of course, if there's heavy lifting to be done, I've your address on standby.

1/2

[infusion]

[infusion]

[And then she reaches over to pinch his nose.]

[pragnanz]

[ AH.... THIS AGAIN... ]

If you're really so invested in my nose [ he says, his voice appropriately nasal thanks to his nonexistent effort to pull away ], I can have it cast in plaster.

Alternatively, I'm in possession of a scalpel, if you need it.

[ CLAUDE... ]

[infusion]

[She oh so graciously lets go of his nose, holding back her laugh.]

God, that's always worth it.

[pragnanz]

[ WELL... U KNOW WHAT

He reaches out and returns the favor!!! Because he's a Mature Adult. ]

I see the appeal.

[infusion]

[!!!!]

'Ey. 'EY!!!

[And have a nasally Iona in return, THANKS CLAUDE]

[pragnanz]

Tit for tat. Our family always likes to return favors.

[ A laugh, and he twists her nose lightly before letting go... nerd. ]

[infusion]

But that was supposed to me my thing...!

[She's rubbing her nose as she gives that childish reply.]

I only do that when I can't think of another way to say you're wrong anyways so...

[pragnanz]

That would be because you don't have an argument.

[ Wryly. Don't be rude, Claude. ] Which would make me 'not wrong', wouldn't it.