(no subject)

[never_shall_yield]

Javert enters, glances around and nods. There's a dusty air to him, as though he's been walking on dry roads for a while. The space behind him shows blue sky, a few small shacks, and fields that go on forever. Heat too; a great roll of it that follows on his heels and lingers for a few moments after he has shut the door.

He gets a glass of water from the bar, drains it, and then retires to the outside. Stables first, to check the horses - the young one, and the one he will take with him if he can. Then to the building site, because it has been on his mind and he must continue with all haste.

He stops when he gets there, though. There is wheat growing at the edges of the walls. That is not good; he does not want anything to dig down and undermine the foundations. So he scowls and yanks it out, telling himself to be more careful about the seeds he trails with him from the farm. That done, he sets to work. Mortar, then walls. When he runs out of bricks, more bricks. When he runs out of light, there is a roof to design.

He'll be in the bar later, drawing roof beams and vaulted ceilings, a book in front of him to tell him what he needs to do. Supper, needless to say, lies ignored.



[OOC: Unexpected couple of days off, so I couldn't resist an EP. I'll be here for the next twelve hours, and can play up to Sunday evening for slowtimes. Miss all your faaaaaces. D:] 

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The wheat stalks, wherever they end up, may very well attract attention from a pair of gangly brown-and-black lambs, just of an age to start having prominent horns (four each). Which means they'll attract attention from the dog following them on guard duty- and eventually from the human behind him.

"Oh! Hello, Javert."

[never_shall_yield]

Javert has been standing, brick in one hand and trowel laden with mortar in the other, staring at the lambs.

He is no expert, but he is fairly sure they should not have four horns each.

'Madame Park.'

He bows politely, then surreptitiously puts the brick down and checks his peasant's cravat is in place.

'How are you?'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen returns the bow as best she can; as has been noted in the past, she's about as familiar with curtseying as anybody who has never in their life worn a skirt could be expected to be. "I'm doing well enough," she says. "Things have been busier back home than I expected. And yourself?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes, I am well. Thank you.'

Country life seems to agree with him, physically. If one ignored the lack of edge to him, they might think he seemed normal.

He puts the trowel down too, out of politeness.

'Has there been trouble in your new station?'

[starrydome]

Elrond has been walking in the forest.
He sees Javert and raises a hand in greeting. Friendlily.

He's dressed for walking through the undergrowth. Trousers, boots, a belted tunic. No outer robe. And his hair hangs in a thick, utilitarian braid, down his back.

[never_shall_yield]

'Good afternoon, Elrond.'

Javert is working steadily, mortar laid neatly down in rows, bricks laid into it carefully. No fuss, little mess. He is tidy in his dress as always, though his trousers and waistcoat are flecked with dust and specks of wet sand.

He does not stop what he is doing, but inclines his head politely.

'How are you, monsieur?'

[starrydome]

"I am well enough," Elrond answers in his melodious voice. Even at rest, standing on uneven ground, his back is straight, his shoulders square.

"And you? Has your shoulder been giving you problems?"

[wheatencrown]

Demeter walks outside, its a quiet day and stares at the man pulling up her wheat.

He must be the one building the church and she walks up to him, gently lifting the wheat he had torn out, "It wasn't harming your church just existing."

She's in a green linen dress with bare feet and the air around her smells of summer ripeness and the beginning of a storm.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert turns quickly, and almost bends to bow as a matter of rote; the voice is female, and he usually attempts politeness to begin with.

But then he sees she is not wearing shoes, and there is a strange smell. He is on guard at once - and then he registers what she said, and forgoes bowing in favour of frowning.

'I beg your pardon?'

[wheatencrown]

"My wheat wasn't going to harm your church. It was simply growing because I'm a patron here and I don't like finding a church in Milliways. Are you the man that Gavroche was so terrified for that my wheat growing around your church would frighten you?"

She walks closer to him, he doesn't look like a man who's sanity is held together by a building.

[capture_eternity]

There's a new patron walking outside today, looking around with enthusiasm and curiosity.

Dorian Gray is still hoping to see unicorns, but instead, he finds what appears to be the man building the church.

"Good afternoon," he says as he comes closer.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert turns his head, and looks this new person up and down. There is a cautious inclination of his head.

'Good afternoon, monsieur.'

[capture_eternity]

"How splendid that you're building a church here," the young man says. "What style is it going to be? Gothic?"

[fry_sandhu]

Fry had come out here to see if any of his pet worms were still about. Now the church is growing.

He watches, somewhat hypnotised by the building process, and then starts trying to work out how many bricks there are.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert notices he is being watched, turns, and frowns.

Then he turns back to his work.

Eventually - some time later - he asks, 'what are you doing?'

[fry_sandhu]

Fry glances at him.

"You laid three bricks every two minutes which means you laid approximately ninety bricks in the last hour." he says. "There are two hundred and sixty bricks on this side which means in ten bricks time you will have been going for three hours."

[lt_blade]

It was easy for Sonya to loose herself in running. Thanks to training and endurance, she could run for twenty miles before feeling her muscles protest to the point of stopping. In milliways it was even better, running outside without fearing running into anyone, the woods providing decent obstacles.

She comes across the church (least it looked like the start of one) almost by accident. She heard it was there, but the exact location and a reason for going never really entered her mind until now.

Stretching her legs and taking a swig of water, she carefully went inside after him. "I heard a church was being built, should've figured you were the one building it."

[never_shall_yield]

'Did I not mention it?'

He thought he did, but cannot remember.

There is not yet a proper 'inside' to the place - the wall he is working on is waist height at this point, and the other three just a little higher than the floor. But the space is clearly visible now, and it won't take long to become a proper structure.

'Good afternoon, mademoiselle.'

headed for long slowtime

[lt_blade]

"Good afternoon, monsieur." She could speak and read french nearly as fluent as a native-minus one or two common expressions-but since she heard Javert as english, that was how she spoke with him.

"You may have. I do remember seeing you working on some sketches awhile back." The memory was fuzzy and not entirely something she put focus on. "Must've skipped my mind if you told me your plans or not."

At the very least, she had so much else to consider that some details would've been regulated to the back.

[moonandstar]

Garyn has been engaged in some building of his own - carrying carts and boulders, working against a straw-covered post with a weighted sword, climbing the bottom branches of trees. What he was has been torn down. It has taken months of work to even approach the strength he once had.

Though the task remains a long one, his day's work is finished. He is making his way back through the woods, taking a shorter route than usual. He slows at the sight of the church-in-progress. He has not noticed this structure before. It does not seem to be finished.

Garyn shrugs. It's not like he has any pressing business at the moment. Curious, he straps his dull leaded blade around his shoulder and approaches the edifice.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert is standing on the inside of the structure, applying mortar, setting bricks, scraping the excess away. It is not difficult work once one has learned how to do it, and more an endurance test than anything else.

He glances up at the movement on the edge of his vision, frowns slightly and returns to what he is doing.

[moonandstar]

Garyn enters the building, keeping his eyes open and his step light. The architecture isn't unfamiliar. It looks quite like a small chapel in the Imperial vernacular style. Though judging from the icon it appears to be dedicated to eight gods fewer.

He is rather more surprised to find who else is inside of it.

"Javert," he says, his tone less a greeting and more a quiet exclamation. "I hadn't taken you for a bricklayer."

[a1enzo]

Enzo is out cruising on his surfbaud, practising in-flight targeting on passing objects with his gauntlet's laser pointer. Passing near the church site, he sees progress and comes down to a low hover.

"Huh," he says, noting the pile of uprooted wheat. "What's that for?"

[never_shall_yield]

Javert...

...is rather distracted from the question by...well, by so many things. Flying things and a laser, mostly.

Forgive him if he does not reply promptly. Or remember this boy's name; he was rather distracted when they met briefly before, and finds himself in a similar state now.

Green people will never not be strange.

'What is what for?' he says, eventually.

[a1enzo]

"Those plants. Is that something for building?" He wouldn't have thought so.