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[never_shall_yield]

 
Javert - much to everyone's inconvenience, he is sure - enters the bar with a horse. He feels he can hardly be blamed for that, as he was only taking the beast from its stable in Paris to give it some exercise. This is better for that purpose, awkward as it is to manoeuver the stallion out to the grounds.

Once there, he mounts and disappears off around the lake. Ganymede's horse is good at running, and Javert fully intends to gallop him until he cannot any more. It will do the both of them good.

He is back in the bar later, somewhat wet and windswept, picking at dinner and filing jagged metalwork down to things that will not injure anyone trying to use it. A small job, but necessary, and one that keeps his mind occupied while allowing his mind to work. Not that he is enjoying thought any more than he used to. That conversation with Valjean, he thinks, could have gone better.



[OOC: Les Mis is on TV and I couldn't resist. Catch him anywhere! Last EP for about a month probs, but open for a few days. <3

Annnd, slowtime for sleep. You people are crazy awesome. <3]

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[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar Lothbrok is sitting a few tables over, with clear view to the door.

He nods at Javert, briefly.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert looks at him, then away. He has nothing to say to the man.

Until it occurs to him that he does.

'Athelstan passed along the cross and chalice. They are secure.'

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Oh!" Ragnar says. "When was that?"

Pause.

"Do you know if he's here now?"

[never_shall_yield]

'I have no idea.'

He sets his file down, and picks up a piece of bread.

'It was a few days ago. Have you lost him?'

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes," Ragnar says. "I had to go home, and he stayed in England and fell into the hands of the enemy. He came in here badly injured, and walked out before he was ready, in a high fever, because those morons in the infirmary didn't keep him back."

Pause.

"If you've seen him a few days ago, and he gave you the church things from Lindisfarne, then it means he's better, even if he's not here."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Oh," Ysalwen says quietly, as Javert enters and his horse follows behind.

Almost immediately she drops her gaze to where Liranan has bolted to his feet and started moving.

"Oh, no, no, no. Liranan don't you dare try to help! No one and nothing likes being herded!"

Calling loudly enough to corral your dog without startling a horse is an interesting experience, she finds.

And is out of her chair and moving in the direction of hopefully-averted-chaos at a rather rapid clip.

[never_shall_yield]

This horse is generally not that easily startled.

On the other hand, it is not usually in a bar either, nor surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds, and hampered by chairs as it tries to walk.

Javert whips his head around to see the approaching dog, then up to find its owner.

'Leash that-'

...too late. The stallion snorts and skitters sideways, causing a table to scrape along the floor with a terrible sound that only serves to scare the beast more. He shakes his head and gives an almighty snort, dancing in a circle; Javert has no choice but to go with him, or let him go. And he cannot do that without making it worse.

'Stop it!'

[freedom_is_grey]

"Liranan, sit down."

The dog does, instantly and without comment.

A small white-haired woman with a black facial tattoo over her right eye, blue-and-silver mage robes, and pointed ears steps up beside the dog, brow furrowed as she looks at the mess he's caused.

"Please don't panic," she says, looking directly at Javert out of dark brown, almost-black eyes. "I think I can help."

She touches the staff on her back lightly, the fingers of her free hand twitching out and looking as if they're tossing something in his direction.

At his horse's feet pink light springs up and fades, and the horse is now completely still.

"Um. Try talking to him and soothing him like you'd do if he could move? It will help when the spell wears off. Which is -- maybe a minute? I'm very sorry."

[never_shall_yield]

Javert blinks at her.

He was about to say that of course he would not panic, he has never panicked in his life, but then she does...something, and his attention is arrested.

He looks back confusedly at the horse, then (with a slightly hesitant hand) rubs his nose. He is not about to murmur sweet nothings to the beast.

'What have you done? What magic is this?'

Javert does not like magic, but he might admit that it saves trouble in this instance.

[the_lioness]

A short, redheaded boy covered in mud stomps by Javert's table and up the stairs, fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword like he's trying really very hard to remember why it is not befitting a squire to draw it and start whacking angrily at the wooden column he passes.

He returns later, dressed in clean breeches, boots and scarlet tunic.

(Alanna is never getting caught in Milliways without a change of clothes again.)

The sword, now polished, is carefully set upon a table near Javert's, but the boy throws himself into the accompanying chair with little regard for the furniture's well-being.

He sighs.



Alanna detests jousting.

[never_shall_yield]

'You are making a lot of unnecessary noise.'

It is said calmly, but quite clearly. Javert can see this is a boy in a temper, and has little patience for that...but more than if it were a girl in a temper.

[the_lioness]

Alanna slowly turns her head and raises an eyebrow.

There are moments when she looks like the noble she is. This is, perhaps, not one of them. Mostly she just looks stubborn.

"Am I?" She lifts her chin (getting closer). "Then I apologize for disturbing you."

That much is true, anyway. Even though she thinks a person seeking quiet in a tavern is mad.

[never_shall_yield]

He has little problem with stubborn, as long as it is not someone trying to resist arrest or questioning. He raises an eyebrow in return, and looks him over.

He does not look like a peasant. He is not sure what he looks like, other than young.

'Very well.'

Apology (mostly) accepted.

'What ails you?'

[harryhotspur]

On his way back from the stables, perhaps Javert passes another rider taking an easy trot around the grounds. Perfectly casual, perfectly ordinary.

The horse might look familiar, though.

(Harry saw Javert enter with the horse, and deemed it entirely unfair that such a creeping worm of a man should have a horse as handsome as that one. Of course, he could wait until Javert left and use the horse and no one would be the wiser, but... there may also be a small degree of spite involved in this decision. He saw how hard they rode, though, and is keeping it slow and gentle-- he bears no ill will against the horse, after all.)

[never_shall_yield]

...yes, the horse does look familiar. And Javert is completely unprepared for the flash of pure rage that accompanies the realisation.

'You!'

Oh, this is not good. How dare he!?

'Dismount him at once!'

[harryhotspur]

Harry cups a hand to his ear, as if he could not hear from the great height of the horse's back.

"What sayest thou?" he calls, bringing the horse around to draw closer.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert is not much given to individual hate, but he is quickly coming to rethink that personal policy.

He strides to meet them, holding a hand towards Acajou's nose to make sure he will be calm (though is he wants to throw this pup off, so much the better).

'Get off him,' he says again, through clenched teeth.

He does not own this horse, and therefore feels even more responsible for his well-being.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Tragically, the slow golf clap had not yet been invented in 1832--at least, not by that name.

Lesgle is still sure as hell going to clap slowly and loudly for the appearance of Javert With A Horse. "Oh, bravo! An elephant would be more impressive, to be sure, or even a camel, but a horse is still a fine way to begin a circus career. Congratulations on your new vocation! Your most honorable yet!"

[never_shall_yield]

Javert sends him a withering look, his hand on the horse's nose to try and keep him calm.

There are a stupid number of tables and chairs in this place, and all of them seem to be barring the way to the back door.

'Hold your tongue,' he says, curtly.

'Do you want him to spook?'

Bossuet may get crushed if he does, which very well, Javert would not mind a bit.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I'm not the one who thought it was clever to bring him into a bar!"

But no, he doesn't want the horse to spook: that's why he's not whistling or stamping his feet to fill out the applause.

"To what do we owe the honor of such a sight?"

[never_shall_yield]

'The stupidity of this accursed place,' he grinds out, because does anyone really think - really - that he would be stupid enough to choose this situation?

'Be useful for once in your life, and move some chairs. If he gets free, he will hurt himself.'

This is of far more concern than any people getting injured, obviously.

[the_cupbearer]

There is a Ganymede mucking out the stall that his horse had been in--his, not the one he'd given Javert--and looks quite different from what he usually does when the Frenchman sees him. He's in torn and dirty jeans, boots that have seen better days and a tee shirt, and he seems fairly unaware of anyone that might be nearby. It's odd to see him without his jewelry, without makeup, or doing anything overtly physical that doesn't contribute to physical pleasure, but there you are.

"How's the horse?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face when he stands up straight and sees Javert.

[never_shall_yield]

It rather suits him, at least for novelty value.

'Fast.'

He feels as windswept as he looks, but it is a good feeling for a change. He ties him up outside his stall, and attempts to flatten his hair.

'He needed the run. Hello, Ganymede.'

[the_cupbearer]

Javert might be the only one that thinks that.

"Well, he was supposed to be," he says, stopping for a minute. "Evidently you needed it too."

[never_shall_yield]

Possibly he has been on his mind of late.

He shrugs minutely, and slips off his jacket so he can set to work rubbing him down.

'It has been a trying week. How are you? Are you bringing a horse here?'