open: don't let the wine go to your brains

[untamedantinous]

It shouldn’t be this hard to prepare for a meeting. He’s done it countless times before. However, this time, it somehow is difficult. He’s never really had to set things up at times like this; and he knows as well as anyone else that he is not the best at social niceties. Granted, this meeting is in a much more well-appointed cafe than any he had ever been accustomed to holding space in in Paris. At least they have the benefit of a larger space. Consequently, Enjolras has spent much of the day of the eighth of Menestheus preparing, a little uncertain of how to plan a social gathering that is not immediately centered around planning a revolution. He is trying his best, at least.

Most of the tables and chairs have been pushed a bit more to the center of the room; the couch is arranged off to the opposite side. There are even various pillows scattered about, should anyone choose to sit on the floor. Arranged on a few of the larger tables and the counter there is a modest spread of food: of course, some of Laertes and Galahad’s pastries; but Enjolras has also procured what amounts to a few charcuterie platters: sliced sausages and meats, a selection of (mostly French) cheese, and various sliced loaves of bread and crackers are laid out for perusal, and spreads to go along with them. In an effort to provide multiple options of entertainment, Grantaire has set up a table somewhat near the food, with an assortment of wines and liqueurs. Off to one side, there are a few pots of brewed coffee, cream, sugar, and whatever else anyone might like to add to their beverage of choice. If anyone is drawn to the liquor cabinet, they will find three cups filled with various pieces of paper sitting atop it.

Enjolras himself is lingering on the couch with a glass of wine and some bread. He’s not sure how many people were even informed about this gathering, though he had done his best to advertise. If no one arrives then perhaps he will try again another time; but at least a few in attendance other than himself and Grantaire would certainly be welcome.

Comments

[tallyyoungblood]

Tally shrugs helplessly. "Um. What part is confusing you?"

[vineleaves]

"Fear not my dearest," he tries to stifle his giggles. "I've been called the god of madness, so I think you're still in the clear."

[futaille]

"Oh, excellent! In that case, everything is quite as it should be."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I'll not bore you with history, but I was always meant to serve the High King of Britain. I fought with him against those who made war on him. We sought alliances where they could be found. I served Britain as he bade me." He knows this is a poor explanation. "There was nearly always war, in which nobles or kings made wreck of the land in their pursuit of power. Arthur's goal was to end that, unify Britain, so that the folks might prosper."

He pauses, wishing he had more bourbon, because he has begun to question how that was ever meant to work. But he's only begun to question it and so he will say nothing of that to Magnus.

[vineleaves]

He smiles, a hand going up to twist in Grantaire's curls as he presses a warm kiss to his lips.

[summerdude]

"So you tried to stop people from destroying the land, or whatever?" Magnus is quiet for a moment. "And what about the people who got in the way of that? What did you do?"

[timebethine]

"... musicals? I like music well," says Laertes.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes. None can live well if crops and lands and towns are destroyed. Everyone has a place." He takes a breath, "As to your other question -- unless those people were knights or nobles commanding them, they were not mine to deal with."

He glances up to meet Magnus' gaze. "Everyone has a place. Everyone has a role. I've no power to -- not interest in -- punishing someone for the sake of punishment. We are, I think, in the minds of many here barbarous. I doubt that folk after me were much wiser, but I understand that my world and yours are not the same."

[summerdude]

Despite himself, Magnus snorts at that. "Would you call the Vikings barbarous?"

[futaille]

He smiles around it, relishing as always the rich wine taste of Dionysus' kisses. "Yes. Quite as it should be."

[untamedantinous]

He purses his lips a little, a teasing glint in his eye. "And you call yourself a cynic."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Many Britons in my time would, aye. Though-- you have spoken of the violence of Norse deities, as well." He finds the root beer and takes a sip. "I do not think any of us have every answer. I have made many mistakes, and will make many more, but I am glad enough that this place has spared me some of the worst of what will happen to me, and what I will do in the years to come-- though it did not spare Galahad or Sagramore¹ my worst."

^{1: Here he is talking primarily about his attitude toward both, his anger at nearly everyone around him. He is unaware of the worst of the damage he does, in future, to either of them. Which, at least in Sagramore's case, is far worse than a shitty attitude. The typist hopes that they are as unaware as Lancelot is.}

[futaille]

He laughs incredulously. "I hardly think that much has changed."

[untamedantinous]

"Here I thought you took pleasure in denying most anything I said." He takes an amused sip of his wine.

[futaille]

"Oh, well that's not true," he immediately says with a grin.

[summerdude]

"You know I came here from Valhalla, right?" Magnus has mentioned it to the guy before, but it's been awhile -- he's realizing he never fully chased that thread down with Lancelot when he was asking about how much reading Lancelot has done.

[wickedwit]

"Boldly said." He watches Laertes's face across the table, thoroughly endeared by how brave he makes taking a compliment look. Perhaps it needs some bravery. He remembers Laertes saying he didn't enjoy praise that sounds like expectation, praise like Laertes can learn anything. So instead, he says, "I admire thy many passions. Thou hast combed such wonders from such a vast shore of subjects, brilliant little pieces of learning like collected shells on the beach. All from moments where something happened to catch thy interest -- a book thou saw'st in the library, a particular remedy thou didst hope to find in herbalism, a time someone mentioned boats. Whatsoever the spark, thou wilt take that first curiosity and follow it to its end. Or in all directions -- either way, thou wilt cover more ground. Thou art devoted to thy projects, devoted to the people who inspire thee. Even if, at times, thou art impulsive, disorganized ... that impulse is thy passion, that disorganization a necessary step to learn something new. Thou hast to take apart a toaster to see how it works, to use a metaphor from Tress's workshop."

Smirking, he adds, "That's why it surprises me not at all thou didst save us all during the zombie attack. It may have been opportune, but thou wert always able to take one moment's curiosity and turn it into an opportunity. It speaks to thy speedy wits, that thou canst start with something Crowley said to thee about a TV show, follow that thought and find him, then discover the secret source of the zombies. Many fought. But thou foughtst and wert clever. I happen to find such cleverness attractive."

[timebethine]

And when Claudius says it like that, Laertes can feel that there was merit in what he did--caught in the frame of Claudius's perceptive eye, Laertes feels seen, understood, worthy. His heart gives a hard, urgent throb that he recognizes now as love. "Come away with me," he says, and takes Claudius's hands across the table. "I love thee. I want thee. Come away with me, and let me learn thee anew."

[wickedwit]

Claudius rises from the table, with an inviting smile cast over his shoulder, hand still linked to Laertes's as though to lead him off in a dance. "Happily."

[wickedwit]

"Yes, as I recall you all three shared a dance, and shared a few other things after. I suppose that's common enough for knowledge. That dance was quite successful for you." With an air of great reflection, he asks, "Is that why you're willing to credit me with the start of civilization here? You've learned to like dances."

[untamedantinous]

"I would not say I like them. In truth I only went for the company; I am not --as you can see, someone that is especially sociable." Yes, there are plenty of people here, but he is not what anyone would call the center of attention. He is content to stay off to the side, absorbing the general surroundings and conversations and pleasant chaos of it all. "It was, as I said, the start of our group events here. I think that helped."

[untamedantinous]

He just raises his eyebrows, as if to prove his point.

[futaille]

"You see, I'm obliged to disagree with that, as if I agree with it, I'll prove you wrong, which would make me wrong, and I clearly can't have that."

[temnota]

The touch was comforting and Aleksander smiled warmly pressed his shoulder against Sagramore. He considered his answer for a few moments before speaking. "It would have made my job easier and would have been better for Ravka as a whole if we could have worked together. I am not sure I would have liked the meetings any better. I would rather do things then talk about them endlessly."

"I did," he added, amused. "He is enjoying himself, isn't he?"

[sagramore]

"A man of action. I know thy kind." He looks over at Laertes, who is, he's fairly sure, being flirted with by Dionysus. "Christ, I hope so. He deserves it; he works too hard."