pro_patria_mortuus: (Default)
Enjolras ([personal profile] pro_patria_mortuus) wrote in [community profile] milliways_bar2015-07-19 03:46 pm

AU Week: more daemons

Enjolras has slept, upstairs, the heavy sleep of a man whose restless agitation carried him well past exhaustion before he gave into it, Jeanne still ruffled with anger and betrayal and shifting from foot to foot on the bedpost until at last she tucked her head under her wing. (You have to sleep, Combeferre told him back in Paris, sleepless and exhausted himself, with dark circles beneath his eyes. We all do. If you run yourself into the ground you're no help to anyone. Ordinarily Enjolras would have turned that back on him, and pointed out that the same applied to him. This time he only said I will, later, and went out again. But Milliways is a very useful compromise. One can sleep -- one can take time to rest and think, one can use the history books of a hundred futures and a hundred worlds -- and still not lose any time in Paris.)

So. He's slept; he's eaten; he's spent some hours in the library upstairs, sifting through books and papers and his own thoughts, until he had a stack of useful materials and the quiet was making him and Jeanne both edgy. Then they came downstairs to work there in the Milliways bustle.

Enjolras has a table in a quiet corner. He's bent over his work, though every so often he does glance around the room, in case of friends from home or from Milliways, or anything else of use. Mostly he's reading or lost in intense thought, occasionally punctuated with brief notes to himself.

He's radiating a tight, furious intensity that's probably visible at some distance, though it's all coiled in on itself now. So is the brown and white eagle perched on the back of the next chair. She's scanning the room as much as the books, with occasional pauses to smooth her ruffled feathers back into place. (They ruffle up again shortly afterward.)

[OOC: An AU EP to celebrate my return from dance vacation to the land of internet! This Enjolras is, like other Amis, alive and from two years earlier than his usual bar self, and has a daemon. He's not Bound, but he's been coming here off and on for a while.]
street_sparrow: (Sparrow AU)

[personal profile] street_sparrow 2015-07-19 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Sparrow approaches without ceremony, setting a cup of coffee on the table and keeping one in his hand.

"I heard the news", he says quietly.

[ooc: per discussion with Pilf, the Daemon Amis have met Sparrow but don't know he was once Gavroche. He's just Sparrow, from a later Paris, and he doesn't talk to them about the future or ever mention 5 June 1832. That work for you?]
street_sparrow: (Sparrow AU)

[personal profile] street_sparrow 2015-07-19 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)

It is arresting, even though he's seen it before, the two forms looking at him as one.

"And you will again", he says with a half-smile.

Edited 2015-07-19 21:37 (UTC)
street_sparrow: (Sparrow AU)

[personal profile] street_sparrow 2015-07-19 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Sparrow looks back at them, and thinks about it, even if his thoughts skip and slide around one particular night.

"I know you'll fight again, and sooner or later the world will change."

He's sure of that much. It has to.

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2goodarms: Honey badger don't care. (au: joanna)

[personal profile] 2goodarms 2015-07-19 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, the intensity's hard to miss. Curtis recognizes it like you'd recognize the sheets on your bunk: old, worn, familiar. God knows they've felt that kind of thing enough themselves.

His honey badger daemon nudges him in the foot, jerking her head to indicate the pair, but otherwise doesn't say anything. They keep walking -- Joanna nearly between Curtis' feet, the two of them taking up as little space as possible as they move through the bar -- and settle at the next table over from Enjolras.

For his part, Curtis looks a little on edge, and grips his glass of water a little too tightly. (He might be regretting those recent attempts to extend his and Joanna's range.) Every now and then, Joanna tosses another silent glance toward the man's eagle daemon.
2goodarms: Curtis throwing a curious glance off screen (yeah?)

[personal profile] 2goodarms 2015-07-20 12:55 am (UTC)(link)
Curtis nods. By then, his water glass is half empty, warmed enough that condensation doesn't drip along its outside surface.

Joanna shifts a look between Curtis and Jeanne. In a wary greeting of her own, she takes a couple steps closer -- but stops when she's barely a foot and a half away from Curtis, already vibrating at the edge of their tether. If it's just another muscle to stretch, they overtaxed the hell out of it: their link is shorter than ever.

The guy looks Front. Not as much as some of the other people around here, and that level of focus doesn't seem like something a true front-sectioner would carry, but it makes Joanna cock her head in further study, her intensity nearly matching Jeanne's.
2goodarms: Curtis with his arms folded atop his knees, looking at something out of frame (two good arms)

[personal profile] 2goodarms 2015-07-20 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Curtis," he says. "Hey."

"I'm Joanna," his daemon adds. She doesn't try to venture any closer to Jeanne: three feet's a respectable distance for new meetings, and besides, those three feet look pretty insurmountable right now. "You new?"

On the scale of things, Curtis and Joanna rank much closer to new than most patrons. But...you never know.

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tire_moi_mes_bottes: (Really?)

[personal profile] tire_moi_mes_bottes 2015-07-20 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Someone lands next to Jeanne, with an inquisitive chirp. It's Guignon, hardly bigger than the eagle's beak. Just behind her comes Lesgle, though he doesn't follow his daemon in settling in instantly at the table; he hesitates a bit, his hands occupied with a plate of food and a glass of wine.

"Ah--you're here too, Enjolras?"
tire_moi_mes_bottes: (You must be joking)

[personal profile] tire_moi_mes_bottes 2015-07-20 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
Guignon cheerfully preens the edge of Jeanne's wing in return, it being more within her reach. "God forbid anyone should argue against medical advice from Minerva and Combeferre! But did they come too?"

It's all enough of an invitation that Lesgle sits, with a nod to Jeanne. "Then we're a good crowd here right now, I think. Well--Feuilly is still Bound, last I heard; Joly's here and Bahorel, with Thalia terrorizing everything in sight."

He does smile; of course he smiles. Someone has to.
Edited 2015-07-20 00:45 (UTC)
tire_moi_mes_bottes: (All suave like)

[personal profile] tire_moi_mes_bottes 2015-07-20 11:13 am (UTC)(link)
"And how goes your own reading?" he asks quietly. Not somberly, but quietly. They need to regroup, and to rally; they need soon to return to a normal of hope and energetic cheer, but not false cheer.
clayforthedevil: (Default)

[personal profile] clayforthedevil 2015-07-20 12:31 am (UTC)(link)
Bahorel and Thalia are not calm, they are nowhere near calm-- but a few days with no one shouting Vive le roi hasn't hurt their mood any. Still, Thalia's flights, even here indoors, are more frenetic than usual; but it doesn't stop her from spotting Jeanne and dropping neatly onto the back of the chair next to her.

Bahorel sits down in front of his daemon a few moments later, and nods greeting.
clayforthedevil: (Default)

[personal profile] clayforthedevil 2015-07-20 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Thalia leans over to fix an especially stray feather on Jeanne's back. "Minerva's here" she says. "Alcmaeon too." Also, you know, their humans.

Bahorel nods and passes over his own notebook, open to a neatly-written sort of bibliography. "It's what I could find for near-histories. And a few books Combeferre was looking at." He can see Enjolras is already looking at some of the books he's read earlier, and a few more he may have to look up. "I can't say there's anything promising, but some details--we might be able to use."
Edited 2015-07-20 01:09 (UTC)
clayforthedevil: (Default)

[personal profile] clayforthedevil 2015-07-20 08:34 am (UTC)(link)
Thalia clacks her beak, approving. "Good, Alcmaeon can fuss at her." Not that Thalia minds some pecking at from the little finch-daemon, but Alcmaeon is always happier when there's someone to fuss at properly.

Bahorel shakes his head at Enjolras' statement. "It's bad." he says flatly. " Almost every world I can find that's even close to ours-- the fight goes on, everywhere, but there's nothing like a real republic again for fourty, fifty, eighty years. depending--" he waves impatiently "--not in our lifetimes, anyway. Plenty of regimes pretending to the title, but nothing that earns it." Not under any scrutiny.

The waste of it all, the grinding forced retreat from the shambling old ways that don't know they're dead--he twists his fingers in his hair hard enough to smart, and Thalia flaps in shared outrage and then flies over to preen him again. He doesn't comment on it this time; Enjolras knows all his thoughts on the matter, and needs no convincing. But it's still bitter.

"The others." Thalia prompts, nipping at his ear.

"Right you are. -- I say almost every world; there are some where the telling blow lands sooner. Within the next five years; maybe in the one or two. Now these are other worlds, daemonless, some magicless; it may be nothing, but then again--." He makes a sharp gesture with an open hand. It may be nothing, but it's the nearest thing to hope he's found from those future histories.
Edited 2015-07-20 08:51 (UTC)
wings_of_a_swan: (Default)

[personal profile] wings_of_a_swan 2015-07-20 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
Combeferre walks in with his satchel of books. Different books, this time, all about the strategies used in 1830 and the ones used in the years after--concerning different worlds, most of them, but useful nonetheless.

Minerva, flying ahead of him, swoops down next to Jeanne with a look of fierce and aggressive concern. "Did you take rest?" Combeferre sits beside Enjolras a moment later, saying nothing, but simply touching Enjolras's shoulder in greeting.
wings_of_a_swan: (Default)

[personal profile] wings_of_a_swan 2015-07-20 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
Minerva, in turn, caws softly and preens Jeanne's crest.

Combeferre considers lying, but this is Enjolras. "Some," he says, turning his hand over to press Enjolras's. "There's much to read, and so many different paths we might take next..."
wings_of_a_swan: (Default)

[personal profile] wings_of_a_swan 2015-07-20 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
Combeferre and Minerva react to Enjolras's sensible (if hypocritical!) statement with a very similar rise and fall of shoulders and wings respectively.

"Yes, plan." Combeferre frowns. "I haven't read of any subsequent uprisings or attempts at protest before 1831." A strange term, future histories, but it's a concept they've grown accustomed to at Milliways. "The Canuts revolt, in Lyon. It happens in every world I've read of."

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