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Enjolras hears the people sing (letothersrise) wrote in timestreamic,
@ 2016-04-01 19:47:00

Entry tags:

!log/thread, enjolras, grantaire, logan howlett / wolverine

Enjolras Speech
OOC - Once the first group have arrived through the portal and tumble out into the Cafe Musain. Enjolras will welcome them, shaking each ones hand. Their reactions won't seem to phase him. He will introduce them to his friends and Grantaire will offer each one a drink as they settle into the cafe. Once they are all there Enjolras will stand up and quieten the room. That's right. It's passionate speech time.

Feel free to log stuff below or OOC'ly write up your characters reactions to this.

~~~

Friends!

I welcome you to Paris. I will admit I am still unsure as to the magic that has brought you here but I can say that I am grateful you have come.

We are a people held under the yoke of an oppressive and cruel regime. The poor of Paris are desolate, barely able to scrape enough to live on let alone prosper. The monarchy once again holds power it has no right to and I hope only to see blessed Patria free to make her one decisions. To govern herself as is the right of every man and woman. We are not the only nation to fight for her freedom but we seem to have been blessed from a power unknown to us.

I believe this is proof of the righteousness of our cause and welcome it gladly.

We have found you lodgings, they are humble but given the situation, the best we can do. My friends will show you there soon enough.

You find yourselves at our Headquarters, the Cafe Musain, it is here we plan, it is here we meet a number of times a week. I will not demand this of you, only hope it is your intention to aid us. We are available to help you acclimatise to our time and our city. The Republic thanks you for your arrival and I truly hope I may thank you for your aid and share with you our victory when France is free to determine her own fate.

Vive la République et Vive la France!

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	LOGS letothersrise 2016-04-01 07:18 pm UTC (link)
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Grantaire reacting to Athelstan

drinkwithme
2016-04-01 07:45 pm UTC (link)

Grantaire had barely been paying any specific attention to the new arrivals. Making sure each was settled in with a drink,a nd that was all. At least until he arrived at a very familiar face. His own face. Only with more facial hair. He paused, cup slipping from his fingers in shock as he stared wide eyed at the man who shared his face.

Backing away, he looked at the bottle in his hand. Then back at his doppelganger. Then back at the bottle again. Before leaning in to whisper in Courfeyrac's ear.

"You see him too, yes?"

"I do, 'aire. It's not just you."

The artist looked closely at his friend. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not as much as you, my friend."

The cynic couldn't help but grin at that. "Well, that's a given, my friend. But, still..."

"He's real Grantaire."

"Oh."

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Floki reacting to Grantaire

hrafna_floke
2016-04-02 03:28 pm UTC (link)

They said that in Valhalla the fallen heroes rose each day to fight the great battles once more; perhaps, then, it followed than in Helheim men would rise to face their far less glorious moments? In any case, it was hardly surprising that the Gods, in their continued attempts to punish him for he-knew-not-what, would send Floki back to Paris. As they prepared to embark on the mission it was obvious how little the idea appealed to the knarrsmithr; his brow was furrowed, his mood as black as the warpaint he had not-so-politely declined to eschew, and the loud blond man's attempt to shake his hand was greeted by a scowl as he stomped his sulky way into the café.

A familiar face thrust a bottle towards him; he sneered, halfway to a taunting "No, priest, I will not dri-" when he clocked that Athelstan was not the man infront of him, though they could have been twins. No, the priest was skulking in a corner, mumbling his useless prayers to a dead god, and this...

... oh, how the Gods mocked poor Floki! He giggled shrilly, bouncing from one foot to another with nervous hyperactivity, as he swiped the bottle from not-Athelstan, his free hand contorting reflexively into a warding gesture.

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Open

the__wolverine
2016-04-02 03:07 am UTC (link)

The sensation of traveling through the time portal felt a bit like using the Siege Perilous to hop dimensions. Which was another way of saying it felt pretty damn weird. Logan ended up falling onto a seemingly sturdy table, which nonetheless crumpled as though it were made of matchsticks beneath him. Having an Adamantium skeleton had the unfortunate side effect of adding over 100lbs to his already bulky frame.

Logan emitted an exasperated growl that bore an unsettling resemblance to an angry Kodiak Bear, and pulled himself up from the pile of debris. Picking up his hat, he batted it against his leg, sending splinters flying. There'd been a bit of a debate about his wardrobe. Apparently the folks at the Agency of Temporal Adjustment had decided dressing him as a wine merchant would be appropriate, to which Logan had ~~suggested~~ a traveling American rancher was a better choice. Then someone had commented that although of they ~~may~~ have been of the era, the precise location and date of origin for cowboy hats wasn't clear. To which Logan had simply pulled one on and replied "I know when they started. Paris, France, 1832. Worn by a guy who looks an awful lot like me."

Logan affixed that same hat to his head now, and made a beeline for nearest table with a bottle on it. He grimaced when he realized it was wine, but decided that booze was in fact booze. He listened to Enjorlas' impassioned speech, and gave a thumbs up in mock solidarity when someone looked his way, as he pounded back the bottle of wine like it was water.

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Re: Open

darkslayer
2016-04-02 07:31 pm UTC (link)

Faith looked over somewhat amused when Logan faceplanted the table. He was Wolverine. Therefore immediately pretty awesome. She wasn't sure what he meant about someone that looked like him but she'd figure that out eventually. For now,

"Hey, we got this. Whatever we gotta do. But while we're here, this place isn't short of booze and, did they smoke back here? I mean, I guess they did but I don't know."

She looked around, finally spotting one of the guys the floofy haired French guy had called his friends, one currently smoking.

"Since we're helping your cause and all, can we get two of those?"

The dark haired man wordlessly passed over two of his cigarettes and Faith wondered if showing her lighter would shatter their world views.

Passing one to Logan she grinned.

"Walk?"

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the__wolverine
2016-04-03 04:18 am UTC (link)

It took Logan a few moments to notice something strange about the wine. All he tasted was... well, wine. Not the soil from the vineyard. He should be able to tell the region it came from based on smell alone, on a good day maybe even if a man or woman had picked the grapes from the vine. He lowered the bottle, his gaze scanned the room. He should have been able to isolate the heartbeats of each of the people in the room, but he couldn't even make out his own. Not a good sign. If all of his abilities were similarly suppressed... well, Adamantium poisoning wasn't exactly pleasant.

When Faith came over, he gave a nod. Taking the cigarette from her, he replied to her suggestion with a curt "Yep" and rose. On his way out he spotted an oil lantern and lit his cigarette on the flame. He opened the door with his back, and turned out into the street. Memories of his youth came flooding back, as he took a pull on the cigarette, and glanced at Faith to give her the once over. She was beautiful, but had an edge that somehow managed to manifest in her features. Her dark eyes were those of someone who'd darkness and horror up close.

"So Faith. Welcome to the 19th Century. Whaddya think?" he asked. "Nice dress by the way" he said cheekily as he looked away to take in the surroundings. "We're in it now. Up to our fucking eyeballs. Starting a revo-fucking-lution. Hope you're good in a fight" he said, waiting for her to lead the way.

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darkslayer
2016-04-07 02:21 pm UTC (link)

Faith was less than impressed by the 19th Century if she was honest. It smelled, they'd put her in a freaking corset and she'd only got what was left in her lighter before she too was lighting cigs off a lamp too. On the upside, there were cigarettes. And booze. But both and Buffy had been feeling off, there were vampires here, but there was something else too, something deeper.

"I'm good in a fight." she said calm and measured. She was kind of built to be a weapon against evil after all. "Mystical calling blah blah. Though I'm not sure they anticipated the French Revolution." If this was her world there'd be a Slayer somewhere in the world. But she knew it wasn't. She'd heard of the Musical. She wasn't sure there was anyone that didn't know the name. She didn't know anything more than there was a musical and it had been going for ever.

She took a drag on the cigarette as she walked, musing on all of this, on why, on who she'd met so far, first impressions had been interesting.

"So...I'm leading us somewhere but I have like, no idea where we're going. Do you know Paris at all or is this just wandering until we find something interesting? And can you get us back here? I mean I probably can but you look like you're good at this kinda shit."

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