1 - What do you do with a drunken swordsman? {audio & action}
Hm.
[A fairly tall man, pewter wine cup clutched in one hand as if to make a toast, is standing at the end of the pier. He glances curiously over one shoulder towards the sea, frowns, and looks back up to the shore. Stooping to pick up a small, polished-brass box of sorts, he begins to walk ( Read more... )
[A fairly tall man, pewter wine cup clutched in one hand as if to make a toast, is standing at the end of the pier. He glances curiously over one shoulder towards the sea, frowns, and looks back up to the shore. Stooping to pick up a small, polished-brass box of sorts, he begins to walk ( Read more... )
Comments 95
Fortunately that will not be the case for Athos. Philip, while not the most sparkling and cheerful welcome committee, does at least know the value of receiving answers and frequently tries to provide them for new arrivals.
...Unfortunately he just experienced one of Wonderland's perks himself and is therefore not at his best tour guide behaviour.
Long narration short, what Athos will spot very soon is a man standing waist deep in the ocean water, minding his own business which presently consists of slowly and absent-mindedly cleaning blood off a peculiar deviceSpeaking of peculiar, if the good Monsieur de la Fère cares to step closer he may discover some oddities regarding the man's dress code. Those oddities being a.) everything and b.) the fact that his blue sweater looks completely cut, tattered, torn and covered in blood ( ... )
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Athos walks closer warily, boots sinking into the sand, and calls out:]
Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur?
[He clears his throat. My God, he'd give anything for another cup of wine right now. Porthos and Aramis drove his unconscious body to Château-Thierry as a joke, once, but this looks more like Le Havre...or Marseilles.
Which isn't possible.]
Would you mind telling me where I am?
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...as they say in London these days. The French equivalent loosely translates to Philip not expecting company (or perhaps expecting it too anxiously and being terrified at its arrival) and spinning around in panic.
He manages to prevent his own fall (if only just), but the device slips from his hands.
A sigh of frustration. A forlorn look at the spot where it sank and a nervous one to the man on land. Then he looks away again.
Philip reaches into the water with one hand and fishes for the device, but without looking or actually leaning forward his chances of success are predictably bad.
And yet he tries, for just a moment longer than makes sense, so that when he turns back to look towards the beach--
The look in his one eye says it all. Disappointment. Nervous disappointment that the other man is still here, that he didn't give up waiting and left. ]
{ They really get uglier by the day, don't they? }
Did... did you say something?
[ Philip takes a very reluctant step towards the shore. ]
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This isn't Le Havre, is it?
[The strangely-dressed manservant appears to be a bit out of sorts. This wouldn't be a problem if Athos knew where he was, though.]
You do not look well - do you require assistance?
[Because sir, you seem to be a man who makes a habit of worrying, if the dark circles under your eyes are any indication.
Also, Athos just knows the expression from experience.]
And your name.
[He'd like that, too.]
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[Lucky bastard, missing that last event :| ]
[Also, Poland is trying to stay awake because he's still injured, and sleep feels too frighteningly like death right now, so he might as well chat, right?]
There's a ton of people here, but like, I haven't heard of any of the ones you're calling for.
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Who are you?
[Or better yet...]
Where are you? Show yourself.
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...are you in the box? How are you speaking through it?
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Santana, after puking for what seemed like hours, has decided to go for a walk. She's still kinda far away from New Guy, but come on. He's loud.]
Is any of what you just said actually English?
[Okay, so far, nothing.]
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...Athos tries not to be unsettled by her appearance.]
I'm speaking in French, am I not?
[Right? Right. Last time he checked, he was French.]
Admittedly, [Athos moves up the sandy beach, intent on speaking face-to-face like a gentleman.] -they are unusual names. But they are still French, mademoiselle, and not English.
[Not like those snobby English at all, how dare you imply as much?]
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...Anyway. She stares at Frenchy, a weird feeling passing over her.]
...No. Well I mean I guess you could be. This place kinda translates whatever weird languages into English.
[Or whatever language the respective person speaks, but she speaks English so what does she care about others?]
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...it translates? [Well then. Other future-guy didn't mention that.] What language are you speaking?
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For a while he listens to Athos going about his business. Then he lazily taps a few buttons (my, look at him getting the hang of this trinket) and announces cheerfully: ]
Well, well, well, Athos. If that isn't a wonderful surprise. Bienvenue!
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...Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.]
Buckingham.
[Athos grits, stock-still and glaring at nothing in particular. Withdrawing the mechanical contraption from his pocket, his lifts it slowly and speaks into it (because apparently that's how they work.)]
Somehow, I'm not at all surprised.
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[ He smirks. Given how much it wouldn't surprise the narration if Athos could actually hear it through the transmission. ]
You have met the people here, have you not? Interesting, although perhaps a bit... well, I suppose you would find them more to your liking...
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[Athos rolls his eyes, resuming his walk to the "mansion." He's found the company so far to be decently tolerable. Nothing can fill the gap that Aramis, Porthos, and D'Artagnan have made, but...well. Nothing probably will.]
And how are you enjoying having a single room all to yourself? A step down for you, isn't it?
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