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

[lightbearinglord]

Because Lan Wangji likes Grantaire, and because he said that he would likely be there, he is there. He enters precisely on time, carrying his own teapot in his hands. He finds the seat farthest from the center, sits, produces a teacup from his sleeve, and fills it for himself. It would not quite be accurate to say that he settles back, because he sits as perfectly straight as ever, but there is a certain air about him that makes it clear he intends to do very little other than observe as he lets his tea cool.

He doesn't mind letting conversation wash over him. He has been doing that for most of his life. Political meetings, war strategy sessions, and discussion conferences. If he had something to say, he would say it, as he did at Carp Tower when Wei Ying burst in to demand the whereabouts of Wen Ning -- but today, he has nothing. If someone should govern the mansion, it isn't going to be him, and he would rather not see the privileges of leadership fall to anyone too eager to claim them. The thought of entering into a squabble about it as a form of entertainment is exhausting. Power ebbs and flows, and those who grasp it abuse it as often as not. Expressionless, he sips his tea once enough of its heat has leached away and remains silent.

[summerdude]

"Oh, thank gods, Hanguang-jun," Magnus says, parking himself right next to him. He whispers a confession: "This is a lot more boring than I thought it would be. And I already kinda thought it would be pretty bad."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's mostly straight face does soften into a minuscule flicker of a smile, particularly in answer to the word boring. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgement and of some private agreement, then produces a second teacup out of his sleeve and holds it aloft to ask Magnus if he would like some.

[summerdude]

Magnus nods earnestly. "Thank you," he says. "That sounds great."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji looks fondly at him for a small moment, and then holds back his sleeve to pour him a cup as directed. It's still hot, steaming once it fills the cup, and he passes it with care to Magnus.

[summerdude]

"Thanks, Hanguang-jun," says Magnus. He scoots a little closer as he takes the cup, and then leans against him.

[lightbearinglord]

Feeling as indulgent as ever, and surprisingly glad to have some company here, Lan Wangji folds his arm around Magnus' shoulders. He can use his other hand to continue drinking his tea for the time being.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad came from a sense of loyalty towards Grantaire above everything else, but this environment is perfectly designed to make him anxious and overstimulated. As soon as he sees Lan Wangji he goes to his table and sits there; the overlapping conversation is already wearing at him. Lan Wangji can be trusted not to speak unnecessarily. At the moment Galahad is quite grateful for it.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji gives Galahad a small nod of greeting, then sets down his tea so that he can also put his hands together to perform a seated version of a bow. He would be happy to entertain any of his more talkative friends here, but there is a certain relief to seeing Galahad, whom he knows will not add to the cacophony of voices. As he did with Magnus, he rummages in one of his sleeves until a second teacup finds its way into his hand, then tips it toward Galahad to ask whether he would like to share.

[onthewillowsthere]

He nods without speaking. He knows Magnus is teaching Lan Wangji some sign language, so he signs thank you but not necessarily with an expectation of it being understood.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's expression doesn't, strictly, change, but understanding lights his eyes. He sets down that teacup, then signs you're welcome back at Galahad. The collection of his known signs remains fairly paltry, but he likes to be polite. That done, he holds back his sleeve with one hand and pours Galahad a cup of tea with the other.

[onthewillowsthere]

A wash of relief, an easing of tension, goes through him. He always wants to be understood, and the way Lan Wangji understands him feels like the pleasure of finally being clean after a day of sweating and effort -- something that was uncomfortable is better now. It's strange to think of how completely they misunderstood each other in the beginning now that Lan Wangji is a person Galahad can be at ease around.

He puts his hands around the teacup, letting his cold fingers be warmed by the heat of the tea, and is grateful, again, at how he's gone from such loneliness to having so many people he likes and trusts.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji watches Galahad wrap his hands around the teacup and settles into his own relief, outsized as compared with that understated exchange. When Galahad was Damien, burdened by his past and by his power, Lan Wangji had seen Wei Ying in him. That was easy, because he sees Wei Ying in almost everything, and because Galahad's identity was so muddled at that time, sheets of rice paper pressed together so that the words written on them blurred as they overlapped. It had never occurred to him to see himself in Galahad, because it never occurs to him to see himself in anyone. Even his mother, who loved him, would ask him, balancing him on her knee and patting the front of his perfectly clean robes, how she produced such a singularly serious and dutiful child. He always understood that there was something about him that kept him at an insurmountable remove from other people. At times, it was like a gift, and at others, under the gently insistent weight of his brother's concern, it was a cause for shame.

After a moment's thought, and a slow mouthful of tea, he lifts his hands again and makes the signs for Galahad's name as Magnus taught him, G, flower, choice. His hands are unused to these specific movements, but he doesn't find them so difficult to recreate after all his qin practice, so long as he reminds himself that each gesture has meaning like each fingering position produces a unique chord. He pauses, looking at Galahad to be certain he has it right.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad nods, signing his name more fluidly with the ease of familiarity. Then he gives Lan Wangji a questioning look: has he chosen a name-sign?

[kadewest]

Kade is here, mostly because he's trying to make a point to get out of his room more and the flyer on the welcome table seemed interesting enough. He doesn't plan to participate--he's pretty sure most of the people here are European, and probably from history, and as previously established he has little knowledge or interest in any politics related to all of that. His other areas of knowledge, of course, encompass Prism (a non-starter), and twenty-first century America (the less said about that, the better). He's not going to write it off, though, especially since there seemed to be a slim chance other things might get discussed, as well.

So he brings his embroidery, notes what seems to be the quiet corner, and goes to pull up a seat there. He gives Lan Wangji a friendly nod as he does.

[lightbearinglord]

Ah, the one with the pipe music, who has students of his own. Lan Wangji returns the nod, adding a polite little seated bow as well. Because he has offered tea to everyone who's come to join him thus far, he does the same for Kade, lifting a cup toward him in a silent question.

[kadewest]

Oh, why not. Kade's more of a coffee guy, but he has fond memories sipping hot beverages in an island of calm surrounded by an ocean of chaos (i.e., with Aunt Ely in her office back at the school), and it's definitely too late in the day for coffee. He nods.

[lightbearinglord]

Dutiful, Lan Wangji pours Kade a cup of tea, letting the leaves settle before he passes it toward him. He glances at Kade's embroidery with mild curiosity, but this is not exactly the time to add to the number of voices filling the room with excessive noise.

[kadewest]

Kade catches the glance and passes it over so that Lan Wangji can see it better as he takes the tea. It's a wide ribbon that he's embroidering right now, mostly just trying out new patterns to see what he likes best; currently, he's trying out a geometric pattern just half a shade darker than the ribbon itself.

[lightbearinglord]

Since Kade offered, Lan Wangji takes the ribbon and examines it along with the partially-completed design that spans some of it. His eyes flick up briefly toward the ribbon that sits snugly across his own forehead, the cloud insignia embroidered there. He hopes never to need a replacement or to need repairs for this one, especially as he would not like asking Kade to touch it, but it cannot hurt to keep the potential resource in mind. After a moment or two more of thought, he hands the ribbon back with a nod of thanks.

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras drifts by on his way to get some more bread and wine. Certainly, there are many good conversations going on, and he will be part of them at some point; but he is also content to listen and let the waves of conversation pass over him. It is what he tended to do at home, after all, when not making fiery speeches or collecting weaponry for the cause --and a good number of people that are present have already discussed philosophy with him at some point or another. He can appreciate the necessity of an island of quiet in the midst of all the chaos, and he gives Lan Wangji a small nod -- a silent thank you for coming, it is truly appreciated.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji happens to be perfectly cognizant of the extent to which the success and attendance of this meeting constitutes a gesture of love from Grantaire to Enjolras. It is not to his tastes -- clearly enough -- but that doesn't matter. He catches Enjolras' eye with a little banked warmth in his blank expression and gives him a small nod, and a seated half-bow, in return.

[untamedantinous]

On some level Enjolras is aware of the gesture as well, but he's choosing to ignore that for the present. Grantaire will receive his thanks later; in a more private setting. (He likely can already tell how grateful Enjolras is, Grantaire has an odd way of reading even the slightest alterations in his attitudes.) He also realizes that this event is certainly not to everyone's tastes: perhaps at the next they will try and avoid talk of politics and philosophy, though that is not particularly to Enjolras tastes, either. It is the first step in his attempt at fostering a sense of community here, and those are always uncertain, but he is determined to continue trying.

In any case, Enjolras will linger a few minutes longer in the small oasis of quiet surrounding Lan Wangji and the others, grateful for it in his own way.

[futaille]

Grantaire will of course notice Lan Wangji's entrance, because he's keeping careful track of the arrivals even as he's lounging, insouciant, in his seat. His expression brightens a bit to see him and he waves, but doesn't do much else to call attention to his arrival.

[lightbearinglord]

Frankly, the absence of fanfare is appreciated. Since, at that moment, his tea is still cooling and the bulk of the conversation has yet to commence, Lan Wangji directs the most polite bow he can muster without standing, and drawing more attention to himself, toward Grantaire. For his sake, after the way he spoke of Enjolras' regard as a sublime gift, Lan Wangji hopes that this meeting goes precisely the way it is meant to.