deux: it must be done

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras has not held a musket since the barricades. However, there's no time like the present. Through trial and error and various annoyed thoughts directed to the closet in his rooms, he has found one that will suffice. It feels ...strange, to have one in his hands again, to know that not so long ago he had held one and killed more than once with it. But he is pushing aside any lingering apprehensions he may have and heading outside to the shooting range some helpful person had set up in the recent past. Perhaps no one will bother him here, he hopes, it is fairly far afield; and the whole purpose he has will make it difficult to have any conversations.

The slight tension in his shoulders may belie his earlier anxiety, but it has not affected his aim as of yet. Should anyone follow the sounds of gunfire, they will find Enjolras as well, loading, firing, and reloading his musket with some determination.

Comments

[futaille]

Grantaire hears the sound of musketfire from some distance away and something draws him inexorably toward it. He follows the sound with a bottle in hand, and as he approaches, he huffs a bit to himself as he ascertains the source.

He doesn't particularly want to intrude or interrupt, but neither does he want to leave, so instead he sits on the ground several yards behind Enjolras and just watches contemplatively.

[untamedantinous]

At some point, Enjolras turns and bends to get something, catching sight of Grantaire. It's very faint, imperceptible if you haven't spent the greater part of five years watching him, but the tension in his shoulders is getting slightly higher.

However, Grantaire doesn't seem to want to say anything, which is perfectly fine for Enjolras. He gives the other man a look for a moment, long, cautious, but turns back to his firing without a word.

[futaille]

For someone who has spent the greater part of five years watching Enjolras, though, it's a glowing beacon. A solar flare, if you will. He frowns absently at the signs of tension but says nothing. He knows deep down that anything he could say would resonate quite differently outdoors, and without another eight people to completely change the acoustics.

So he continues to watch, also without a word.

[summerdude]

Magnus hears the sound of gunfire and goes running, naked sword in hand. TJ Junior? Ragnarok?

No, just -- Enjolras, was it? Magnus recognizes the look of a man training for some kind of pressing battle, so even though guns aren't really his speed, he returns Jack to pendant form and wanders up, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey," he says. "Good aim."

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras jumps a little at the sudden intrusion, but thankfully he’s not firing anything at the moment. (It’s still odd, it’s so different from the last time he did this.)

“Thank you,” he answers with a nod, trying to pretend like his heart isn’t racing from the disturbance. “I know there is no call for it, but best to keep in practice.”

[summerdude]

"Yeah, dude, for sure," Magnus says. "I know what that's like. I trained so hard with my sword the other day that I'm still sore."

Of course, that had been partially in service of trying to reach Alex. And that went... how it went.

"I think I've gotten better since I got here, though," he adds, musingly. Funny how fighting for fun builds skill faster than fighting to postpone the inevitability of your daily death.

[untamedantinous]

"I have little experience with swords. Canne de combat -- euh, staff-fighting and muskets are where I excel." He sets his musket down on the ground. "That is good. I do not know -- well, I hope I should not have to use my skills here."

[summerdude]

"I have found that there's a real shortage of people trying to kill me here," Magnus says. It's impossible for others to tell whether he's happy or disappointed about this; he himself doesn't really know. "Probably it'll be the same for you. Guns aren't really useful where I'm from, but my buddy Thomas Jefferson Junior has a musket with a bone steel bayonet. The bayonet packs a real punch."

[wickedwit]

Claudius has been away from war long enough to not jump at the sound of gunfire. Even when he was a soldier, guns and explosions froze him still, unable to move his finger on the trigger and face the killing of another man, and so he earned his reputation as a coward. He'd like to say he lost his fear of killing since then, but it depends on the weapon.

Nevertheless, he has enough courage to move towards the sound instead of way, and stops near enough to admire Enjolras's arm on the musket, his stance and steel-like gaze on his target. Once the target's been hit, Claudius claps his hands together in the silence before reloading, just once so as to announce his presence. "Well-aimed," he says. "Hello again, Enjolras."

[untamedantinous]

He doesn’t jump at the clap. He wants to, yes, it startled him more than he would have liked, but he doesn’t jump. Instead, he gives Claudius a short nod. “Monsieur Claudius. Thank you. I hope I have not disturbed anyone.”

He had hoped, actually, that being so far from the house proper would not draw people to his presence. Unfortunately, musket fire does travel, and the denizens of the mansion tend to be curious sorts.

[wickedwit]

"A welcome disturbance, if any," Claudius says with a laugh. "But don't mind me. I'm only imagining what you'd look like on horseback."

[untamedantinous]

"On horseback?" He lifts an eyebrow. "I cannot say I have much experience at it. I generally hire a carriage in Paris if I must, and my parents did not own any."

[wickedwit]

"And you were never forced to serve, I suppose, beyond the service you chose willingly for France. I served against the French in Normandy," he says, by way of explanation, "but however I aimed, I could never hit a Frenchman on horseback." Once again, he tries to imagine Enjolras as one of those brilliant French soldiers, whose riding made his heart seize and his hands shake and the firearm shake inside them. The thoughts clattered inside his head, like so much useless metal and wood: I can't do this. I can't be this. But King Hamlet could, King Hamlet served beside his armies to inspire them, King Hamlet had an eye like Mars to threaten and command --

King Hamlet is dead, and Claudius killed him. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, it's a crisp, bright day by the shooting range. He smiles pleasantly.

"If I'm uncharitable," he continues, after what must've been a moment's thought, "and I tend to be, I think my brother sent me there to fail. But I did my service in the medical tents eventually, pulling bullets out of men instead of trying to fire them."

[timebethine]

Laertes distantly hears the sound of shots from the range Nina had set up, and he thinks that he'd like to break the good news of his marriage to her--so he lopes around the grounds toward the fence in the shadow of the wood. Upon arriving, however, he sees not Nina, but Enjolras, grimly firing off shot after shot.

Laertes slows to a walk, approaching from an angle that he hopes will both reveal him to Enjolras's eyes and shield Laertes from musket balls. It's a delicate balance to walk. "Enjolras," he calls. "It's good to see you."

[untamedantinous]

He does appreciate that, the less he is startled when holding an active firearm the better. He gives Laertes a brief smile, for a moment blazing like the sun, and waves.

"Sorry if I disturbed you, I needed to get outside." More properly, he needed to get away from prying questions about his relationship with Grantaire and be somewhere he could just not think for a few moments. It's been an interesting week or so.

[timebethine]

"I understand the yearning," says Laertes, a touch wryly. "I've almost finished building a boat, since I came here--the clear air has been good for my humors."

[untamedantinous]

"--That is impressive. How long have you been here, then? I do not think I would have the patience for such a thing." He knows he wouldn't, he likes to keep things moving quickly instead of taking his time. He can, at least, admire those who undertake such things.

[onthewillowsthere]

Like everyone else, Galahad is drawn by the sound of the musket firing. It is entirely foreign to him (T.H. White notwithstanding) and when he finds Enjolras he stops and just watches him for a long while.

[untamedantinous]

In which case, Enjolras will have to thank Galahad for not disturbing him, later. If he stays to watch long enough he may well note that Enjolras is very good at what he is doing, shooting straight and true for the most part, despite the musket ocassionally bucking in his hands. He's settled into almost a sort of meditative rhythm, reloading and shooting and reloading again, and from time to time going to recover some of the lost musket balls. To all appearances, he is unaware of any watchers, or perhaps he's just purposefully being single-minded in his pursuit of alone time.

[onthewillowsthere]

Finally, curiosity overtaking him, he comes closer to Enjolras. "What is it?"

[untamedantinous]

Thankfully, Enjolras is not looking to shoot anyone today, and Galahad has disturbed him at an opportune moment, when he is paused in the middle of reloading. "It is called a musket. They are generally used in warfare at a distance." There's a slight pause. "If you are familiar with cannons, it is similar to that, but much smaller."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe, upon hearing more loud noises, wanders over in hope that Nina is behind them. Instead he sees a blond man he's yet to meet.

He stands and watches for a time before making his presence known. When Nina described this weapon to him, he thought it a poor substitute for a cultivation technique he does not favor. But he can appreciate the deadly precision of it. Luo Binghe has no need of such a device, but he can see how mortals with no powers would find it efficient.

Luo Binghe does not particularly like getting to know people, but as more and more people arrive, he is beginning to feel unmoored by his ignorance. More connections are always valuable. With this in mind, he feels himself quite generous and accommodating as he says, "A fascinating display."

[untamedantinous]

For once, he has caught Enjolras at a time where he is on the hunt for musket balls. So he looks up from his spot, knelt down near one of the targets. "Thank you," he replies, somewhat bemused. "I did not intend for it to be, but I suppose I am the center of attention once again."

[protagonisthalo]

This mildly annoys Luo Binghe. He's never seen this man before; now he claims to be constantly the center of attention? "Who are you, then, to be so sought after? I am Luo Binghe." He bites back the Emperor of the Three Realms. He'd rather not say it than say it and be mocked for it, as keeps happening. How this place tests him.

[untamedantinous]

"I am Enjolras, and I would not say sought after, at all, I am only new here." It's a good thing he did not mention it, as Enjolras would certainly not take kindly to it. (Alright, he does know vaguely that Claudius is a prince, but they haven't actually talked about it in public; and Claudius has also read The Social Contract.) "And some people here have a ....particular tendency to speak with me."