Grantaire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
permets_tu) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-11-19 07:08 pm
permets_tu) wrote in thecapitol2014-11-19 07:08 pm
it's a divine comedy! [open]
Who| Grantaire & OPEN.
What| Grantaire tries to adjust to not being dead, and probably more importantly, being alive in a place that certainly is not 1832 Paris.
Where| Tribute Center; Central Commons.
When| Some point shortly after his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Will update as needed.
Initially Grantaire mistook it for a hallucination, elaborate and strange, yes, but surely a product of his own drink addled mind. He was asleep at that table still, drowning in the drunken miasma of his wild dreams, and soon he would wake and this would be forgotten, as dreams always are. However, the longer it persisted, the clearer his mind became, and the painful clarity in which this reality assaulted his senses eventually forced him to reconsider his earlier assumption and accept a new truth.
This was real.
If he accepted that then he must also accept that he had died, just as he remembered, standing beside Enjolras and showing himself capable of not only dying but dying as well as he knew how.
Yet apparently it hadn't took, which was troubling for a number of reasons he'd rather not dwell upon.
Instead set out to gain some bearing on his situation, which was how he had come to this point, standing in a great open lobby. He did not know precisely how he had done so; he had followed people, there had been a strange static journey within a box that closed on one place and opened at another, and now he stood here, feeling at once both awed and cruelly cheated. He reacted initially with unnatural silence, so struck was he by the outlandishness of his situation.
"A drink!" he cried abruptly, as suddenly as enlightenment strikes the puzzled intellectual, and he looked around wildly for any place that might provide him one.
What| Grantaire tries to adjust to not being dead, and probably more importantly, being alive in a place that certainly is not 1832 Paris.
Where| Tribute Center; Central Commons.
When| Some point shortly after his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Will update as needed.
Initially Grantaire mistook it for a hallucination, elaborate and strange, yes, but surely a product of his own drink addled mind. He was asleep at that table still, drowning in the drunken miasma of his wild dreams, and soon he would wake and this would be forgotten, as dreams always are. However, the longer it persisted, the clearer his mind became, and the painful clarity in which this reality assaulted his senses eventually forced him to reconsider his earlier assumption and accept a new truth.
This was real.
If he accepted that then he must also accept that he had died, just as he remembered, standing beside Enjolras and showing himself capable of not only dying but dying as well as he knew how.
Yet apparently it hadn't took, which was troubling for a number of reasons he'd rather not dwell upon.
Instead set out to gain some bearing on his situation, which was how he had come to this point, standing in a great open lobby. He did not know precisely how he had done so; he had followed people, there had been a strange static journey within a box that closed on one place and opened at another, and now he stood here, feeling at once both awed and cruelly cheated. He reacted initially with unnatural silence, so struck was he by the outlandishness of his situation.
"A drink!" he cried abruptly, as suddenly as enlightenment strikes the puzzled intellectual, and he looked around wildly for any place that might provide him one.
no subject
The declaration upgrades Thor smile into a grin and he does nothing to hide his eagerness at the idea of new company and drinking. "Gladly." He complies, taking a step toward the bar whilst gesturing for the stranger to follow. "A most ingenious plan, my friend, but you will find that drink is far and few between once we enter the Arena." He figures he might as well warn him about that much. "Me? Oh, months." There's a bitter sort of humor in his tone. "Five months, at least, but you speak as if one ever overcomes shock here."
no subject
"As I have no great expectations towards my sustained presence within any Arena I play in I am happily free of any great dread," he said, though he had honestly given it little thought. Being a stranger to the Arena also left him hopelessly ignorant to the true horror of it, and he functioned in the state where the nothing could be worse than what he had already endured.
"But you," he said with a sharp twist of his wrist, gesturing to the sight this man presented. "You do not look to suffer the same prospects as I, mountain that you are," he observed dryly and then made a face. "Pah! What shock you may have suffered five long months ago has faded and you do not look around yourself with the same witless wonder. Unless this was your same reaction, in which case, I am impressed."
no subject
"This marks the second Arena I have returned from defeated." He points out, and a long time ago that would have bothered him. Now he's almost proud of losing, he's almost proud of letting the Capitol down. "Perhaps you merely learn to hide it better." A wry smile crosses his face as they arrive in front of the lobby bar, Thor gestures for Grantaire to pick where he should sit.
no subject
"A drink for the actor! He hides his horror well beneath his thespian mask," he cries, gesturing to their stoic bartender. Perhaps they believed in the unavoidable result of divine will, who could say. He is not familiar enough with the place to know anything of the Avoxes, but a bottle appears with pleasing alacrity; he can almost pretend he is back in the Corinthe, where his face was enough to immediately draw forth a bottle or two.
hey man sorry I'm so slow but this thread is A+
"Perhaps we should not talk of such things. You will hear your fill of it soon enough." Every day is a constant reminder and such. Just saying that is enough to drive Thor to make that big drink about half the size it had been. "I don't believe we've exchanged names." He sticks out his free hand, as is traditional for Midgardian greeting customs. "Thor Odinson." He may or may not pause for the telltale moment of recognition.
:D
Grantaire will confess buoyant admiration for such a drinker. It's a shallow thrill, briefly distracting him from his present position and therefore welcomed and he smiles when his companion admirably attempts to empty his glass in one go. To the disappointment of all his attempt is only half well done.
He clasps Thor's hand, brows shooting up at the name though he holds his tongue against questions or criticism. What criticism can he have, anyway, when the man before him suits the name so well.
"I am Grantaire, of a lesser known pantheon."
no subject
He notes the way Grantaire's brows raise and it just earns him another one of those custom Thor laughs. "Has my reputation proceeded me, then?" He asks with a sly lilt of his brow. He might be working on being less driven by pride, but his curiosity makes it difficult.
no subject
"I confess more familiarity with the Greek pantheon, but the stories of the North are known in France in some part, Jupiter lends his name to our Thursday but ah, the way I must say it now...Thor's day, your day, what a marvelous conceit." He shook his head, having noted his inability to vocalize French though he thought in it, oui, yes, he could still think in French. Rather than dwell on the impossible affliction he took another drink.
no subject
"Some would say my conceit is warranted." He adds, raising a brow over his drink at him. It could almost be considered challenging.
no subject
Grantaire smiles. "Some would say egg and pickle is a palatable combination, it makes some notoriously unreliable."
no subject
Then, almost out of nowhere, he laughs loud. It's because he knows it's ridiculous, he knows who he is. "Patience will prove my sincerity beyond doubt." He assures, taking a swig of his drink. "I can only hope I am able to see your face when the time comes." He gives him a sly look, a contrast to the annoyance he expressed earlier.
no subject
Grantaire supposed he was being somewhat uncharitable with his disbelief. He was already floundering in his extraordinary situation, hoping to drown his alarm through drunkenness. Would it be a far stretch to believe mythological deities had been foisted into the mix as well? Ach, he did not care, his doubt would sit firmly in place.
Even the priest asks for proof when he witnesses the Angel standing before him.
"If shyness strikes you unable to perform I will preserve my expression should I witness it at a later date, and replay it for you should we happen to drink together again. I am accommodating!"
no subject
It would be easier to explain if he knew how all of this was possible. Pulling people from their worlds from the past and the future and dampening their powers requires an astounding amount of power. It pains him to think of it, because how could they ever fight it?
"You would do well to be. Speaking ill of a god rarely bodes well, but you are fortunate in my benevolence."
no subject
"I am duly warned," he drawled. "In future I expect my careless tongue shall not save me from your displeasure, a thunderbolt strike me down where I stand, the mighty god of thunder rumbles dismay across the sky and cuts down the skeptic. If our hosts allow it." He raised his glass and cried out. "To the ineffable!"