(no subject)

[road_to_calvary]

 
There is a lot of activity at the stables today. Valjean managed to track Javert down yesterday (despite concerted efforts by the latter to avoid him), and persuaded him to donate his stockpile of spare bricks to the repair effort. They have to be brought over from the church building site, so Javert is rolling piles over in a wheelbarrow while Valjean knocks the fire-damaged wooden planks out of the back of the stables. There are some large bags of supplies ready to be mixed into mortar, and Valjean is hoping to get the two worst damaged stalls fixed by nightfall.

At least one of the two will welcome help!


[OOC: I've just had an hour of my life cruelly stolen, so I'm going to crash pretty soon. Feel free to threadhop if desired, and I'll be around all day tomorrow to continue. Thanks to all who've tagged! <3]

Comments

[road_to_calvary]

'I believe that is the assumption, though cannot say for sure if it is true.'

He knows what he believes, but is not about to decide on anything. It is not for him to make that sort of judgement, and there are others here far better qualified.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil threw a board into a pile of scrap wood.

"Why would someone do anything like that?" asks Wil, "It just doesn't make sense."

[road_to_calvary]

'I have no idea. I am sure Security will ask when they are found.'

Some people just like that sort of thing. He will not judge.

'Are you new to the bar, monsieur? I have not seen you before this happened.'

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"I've been coming here for about six months my time," says Wil wrenching a board from its seating, "You?"

[road_to_calvary]

'Around two years, in the way Bar measures time. A little less than a year of my own.'

A lot managed to happen in that time, but that is the way of things.

'I was Bound for a considerable time.'

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Is that when you get stuck here and can't go home?" asks Wil taking his shirt off.

[road_to_calvary]

'Yes, exactly that.'

...the boy is taking his clothes off. Valjean blinks in obvious surprise, then seems to remember that things are done differently here. And even if they were not, he would not say anything. Live and let live.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

It is hot, and Wil has no problem working shirtless. Also, he's young, but not that young. He is an adult after all, a well built adult.

"That's just disturbing," says Wil as he kicks a plank out of damaged wall.

[road_to_calvary]

Valjean is not offended, simply from the early nineteenth century.

'I take it you have not suffered this fate.'

Yet.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"My door was gone for a day or two when I first came here," says Wil after chucking an armful of wood into the pile, "I didn't know it had a name."

His hair was slipping from its tie.

[never_shall_yield]

'It does.'

This from Javert, who comes in, empties a load of bricks onto the floor, and promptly departs.

Valjean just looks from him, to Wil. It does.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Huh," says Wil who continues to work without speaking for a bit, "This place is really cool. I've seen things working, that we only find old and broken down in my world."

He stops for a moment to put his hair back up.

[road_to_calvary]

'Is your world so different then? Did something happen?'

He looks more modern than either he or Javert, but that does not mean much in Milliways.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Two thousand years ago, during the Age of Man, it is said that they power fought and nearly destroyed the world," he says stopping for a moment folding his arms on the top of a board, "Some humans survived and eventually split into the races: Dwarf, Gnome, Human, Troll, and Elf... I think, I am not sure if Elves are descended from Man or not."

He cocks his head, "What is your world like?"

[road_to_calvary]

It is strange how many world-changing things seem to happen two thousand years ago.

'It is a normal place. There is no magic, only people and governments, wars, kings, work, all the usual things.'

Crushing poverty and injustice, a few very rich people and very many more destitute. All the usual things.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

Wil smirks as he throws an almost usable piece of wood into a separate pile from the very charred ones.

"I guess, it depends on what normal is for you," says Wil, "In my world magic might still exist, but I doubt it."

[road_to_calvary]

'There is none?'

He is surprised, and sounds it. From what he has seen here, an elvish appearance usually means magic.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"There was back in my grandfather's day," says Wil wiping his brow, "But I think it is all but gone in the Four Lands."

[road_to_calvary]

'But that cannot have been too long ago, surely?'

If the age of grandfathers are the same as on his world, at least.

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Fifty years give or take," he says pulling out nails, "Think some of this wood is salvageable?"

Where he's from, you make a wood pile of any wood that isn't burned beyond use.

[road_to_calvary]

'But how would it just disappear that suddenly?'

Everything must go somewhere. Nothing just vanishes.

'And yes, of course, we may salvage any decent wood. If nothing else, we can use it as fuel for the brick kilns.'

[dont_mention_the_tips]

"Some of this is decent enough to make small things," he says looking at his pile of wood, "It just won't be anything big."

He sighs, "It isn't that magic really goes anywhere, as I understand it, there just isn't anyone who knows how to use it anymore."

That's the crux, without magic users magic is just as well be dead.