merryeccentricities (
merryeccentricities) wrote2015-07-25 04:08 pm
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After Many Things
The dream with the inventory and the surplus of penguins is familiar; that the penguins take off flying is (also familiar) not at all, and Joly blinks half-awake in some confusion. Which turns to panic because he's gone he's gone where is he, and that sets him gasping, awake completely.
As soon as he is entirely awake, the weird panic vanishes. No one is missing; Bossuet is right next to him, the cats are asleep on the furniture that they should least be sleeping on, and even the beetle is still on the ceiling where he'd flown last night before they could put him in his warren.
Joly rubs his eyes and curls up closer to Bossuet again, already starting to fall back asleep , half smiling. Maybe they'd both had a little too much last night (last week) after the fireworks, but that's all right, everything's all right, they're both here and Bossuet is missing Guignon she's gone too--
Joly frowns. He's used to fretting, but there is...nothing wrong? Maybe things are a little complicated now, but it's a complication he doesn't mind. Of course he is upset, they're all upset with the political situation being what it is,all that fighting at the barricade just to see another king--
He blinks and sits up. He hasn't thought about the barricade in weeks, really; not since the anniversary. And the barricades of 1830 haven't been on his mind in months and months, even though it just happened--
--three years ago.
Maybe he's having a stroke? Or drank something he really shouldn't have? That would be comforting, he knows how to worry about medical problems.
He's just sure he isn't having one.
"Um." he says, very quietly, to a room somehow missing everyone who should be in it.
As soon as he is entirely awake, the weird panic vanishes. No one is missing; Bossuet is right next to him, the cats are asleep on the furniture that they should least be sleeping on, and even the beetle is still on the ceiling where he'd flown last night before they could put him in his warren.
Joly rubs his eyes and curls up closer to Bossuet again, already starting to fall back asleep , half smiling. Maybe they'd both had a little too much last night (last week) after the fireworks, but that's all right, everything's all right, they're both here and Bossuet is missing Guignon she's gone too--
Joly frowns. He's used to fretting, but there is...nothing wrong? Maybe things are a little complicated now, but it's a complication he doesn't mind. Of course he is upset, they're all upset with the political situation being what it is,all that fighting at the barricade just to see another king--
He blinks and sits up. He hasn't thought about the barricade in weeks, really; not since the anniversary. And the barricades of 1830 haven't been on his mind in months and months, even though it just happened--
--three years ago.
Maybe he's having a stroke? Or drank something he really shouldn't have? That would be comforting, he knows how to worry about medical problems.
He's just sure he isn't having one.
"Um." he says, very quietly, to a room somehow missing everyone who should be in it.
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He blinks as he thinks that over. "--What part of us do you think came through here? Do you suppose our actual bodies fell through our doors?" It's not an argument. Joly's been wondering this himself for a while.
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He smiles, thinking of possibilities. After a moment, he says "Oh!--It was something like a cat. But it wasn't a cat."
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He sketches a curve with his hand, the line of a sleek animal with a long tail. "Silvery. And spotted."
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Lesgle yawns and scratches his beard, trying to put his mind to the question of where they were if they weren't here, or who they were, or what it all meant. No conclusions present themselves in any useful way. "Mmh. You'll need someone cleverer than I to solve this, I think; but as I said, I'm always happy to sit as an object of study."
((GAH, I'm so sorry, I didn't spot the notification that you'd replied!))
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He grabs his own tablet and leans back over to show Bossuet. "...look, see, there's this program? And-- uh, cat-like, silver, spotted..." he types in words, quickly.
...And there it is. "Genet." His voice is suddenly very soft. He taps on a picture of a little soft-silver creature; it expands to fill the screen.
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Strange, but not unwelcome, and he's smiling a little even if he might start crying soon. There's no portrait of Musichetta, no locket or sketch to remember her by, and he's suddenly grateful to the memories of his other-self for this connection, unlikely as it is, temporary as it might be.
Joly takes Legle's hand, fighting the urge to apologize; Bossuet had wanted to see this too, and he loved her, too, and probably there's no way around that without at least a little sting. And their own daemons belong to another world; he can't reach out to hold Guignon, or feel Alcmaeon curling up against Bossuet or his daemon for connection and shared comfort. But he holds Bossuet's hand tight, and has to hope it's enough.
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Joly's quiet a moment, smiling a little at nothing. "I think he may have an advantage there anyway. With the way daemons are--the way I remember they are, anyway."
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No, it's gone now. Lesgle thunks his forehead lightly on Joly's shoulder before sitting up. "Right, well. What else does this computer do?"
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He puts the tablet back down and rubs his nose for a moment, thinking.
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He fidgets a moment. "...have I been very slow for very long?"
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Joly frowns in frustration,trying to think of how to explain (and what is he trying to explain?) and settles for making a frustrated noise and pulling the sheet halfway back over his head in surrender.
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