[ At some point, Frederick goes from pushing fluttering pieces of paper away from his face to handing them out to various passersby, becoming a pseudo-assistant to the photographic bots that hover in the air. It seems kinder to return a precious photograph that might hold sentimental value to someone, not to mention that the sight of so many errant pictures scattered on the ground are enough to push Frederick's neatfreak tendencies into overdrive.
Someone needs to clean up this mess. It may as well be him.
So he stands, arms overflowing with photos of men, women, animals, locations, and tries valiantly to return photo to owner to the best of his ability. It doesn't go well - for one, many of those passing through simply don't care, and for another, there are enough people that matching photo to person in the two seconds allotted is a daunting - if not impossible - task.
But still he tries.
He tries now, scooping up a newly printed set of photos and rushing over to the older gentleman that's just strolled by. ]
Beg pardon, but might these belong to you?
[ Please say yes, his arms really can't hold any more pictures. ]
[The sudden flash of the camera had startled Jean Valjean, but he had shortly recovered and continued along his way. However, with his vision marred by violet spots, imprinted by the flashing light, he had failed to notice the photographs drifting to the ground like autumn leaves at his feet.
When he is approached by the young man, he is about to deny ownership for these papers he has never seen — but then he is startled by the image preserved in the foremost photograph. It features himself, as seen from perhaps several paces away, in mid stride with a serene smile adorning his countenance; at his side, and it is to there that his eyes are drawn, both in the photograph and the present, walks Cosette. Her hair catches the sunlight and her expression is sweet. His heart soars and aches at once for this sight he has not seen in months while in stasis she sleeps.
Finally, he finds his voice. His expression remains bemused.]
[ Ah! Finally someone receptive to taking back their photos. Frederick immediately launches his assault, though it shows only in the animation in his voice and the eagerness shining in his eyes. ]
From the machines [ he points at one hovering five feet away ] surrounding us, though I cannot say yet who they choose to photograph and when. However, many of these photographs seem to hold significance to those they belong to. I simply wished to return them in case they proved important.
[ From the way this man's gaze stays firmly on the picture held out to him, he'd say the picture is at least of interest, if not import. ]
Is she a relative of yours? A niece, perhaps?
[ The age difference makes the theory plausible. ]
[He looks to where Frederick gestures only briefly, his eyes drawn to the photograph as if by gravity. When he answers, it is as if an afterthought.]
Yes, thank you, monsieur.
[He then reaches to carefully take the stack that the young man had gathered. As the photographs pass hands, Jean Valjean lifts his gaze to him and gives a quiet wistful smile.]
She is my daughter.
[A simple and ordinary statement, but the way he says it seems to carry much weight.]
Reflexively, Frederick's gaze is drawn back to the picture of the young woman, whom he silently begins to contrast against the man before him. They don't look much alike, but perhaps she takes after her mother more? In any case, it's clear the man loves her very much, which is all that matters to Fred. He smiles softly. ]
Your daughter is a beautiful young woman. What is her name?
[ Hard to tell if this man is a Refugee or a local, and thus harder to know if the young woman is present with them or not. ]
[ Fishing is quite possibly one of the only recreational sports that Frederick has ever deigned to participate in, largely because the end result is more productive (usually) than not. Input hook, receive fish? What's not to love about an activity that provides for the household and exercises ones self-restraint and patience?
Well, for one, there's the cold. Not quite as bitter as it had been when they'd first arrived in Nadril but still persistent in its attempts to seep through exposed holes and bury itself into his bones. His usual endless patience is warped thin as he pauses every so often to rub at his arms and restore a tiny bit of warmth. But a tiny bit is not enough and eventually he stands up to try and fullbody shake some wakefulness into himself—right as another lumbering man passes by, unwittingly knocking Frederick from his perch on the pier.
He stumbles, falls, and underneath his sudden weight the ice cracks and splits, thinner in this particular area for some unknown reason. Try as he might to scrabble against the ice that's left, his hands find no purchase and it's not long before the water consumes him, with only bubbles rising up to the surface. ]
[ Rohan isn't quite here to fish, but the image of those fish swimming peacefully under the ice has him transfixed. It's such a visual reflection of all life can thrive almost anywhere, even in the freezing waters, that he can't help but watch. Aesthetically, it's beautiful as well, the bright colours of the fish visible through the clean ice. He's about to pull out his sketchbook when he hears a loud splash and that demands his attention. ]
Did anyone see what happened? [ The closest people are way too far, evidently. There's no one to help Frederick but Rohan. ] He fell in!
[ He really doesn't want to jump into freezing water, but it'll probably only be minutes before hypothermia sets in. He doesn't want to watch somebody die, either. Rohan jumps in, swimming after Fred. ]
Not that Frederick is at all aware of what's happening, too busy drowning in the frigid cold water to pay much mind to the flurry of action around him. His arms flail in a desperate attempt to crawl back to the surface and for a moment, he's successful. His head splashes back out of the water, long enough for him to gasp two lungfuls of precious air.
But the fifty layers he's put on himself to ward off the chill are his downfall, becoming infinitely heavy the more they're waterlogged and dragging him down, down, down.
On the bright side, he's not really moving outwards and away, merely down, though his still flailing arms might make it difficult for Rohan to approach. ]
He's not the most athletic swimmer, but at least he's dressed fairly light for the circumstances and won't be as weighed down. Saving a person from drowning would be so much easier if he had a strong, combat-based Stand, but Heaven's Door is about as physically strong as a small child. All this is on Rohan.
Thankfully, he's got a fair bit of luck on his side. He managed to dive in just before Fred had sank too low to reach, and even despite the flailing, one of his hands make contact with Fred's wrist.
Now comes the hard part -- pulling the guy up when he's heavier than he is and wearing so much. Rohan manages to haul him high enough that half of him breaks through the surface at least. He then crawls out himself and starts yanking the rest of Frederick out.
This has been a real feat. Rohan's pretty winded from it. He starts shaking Fred lightly to see if the guy can response. ] Your name's Frederick, isn't it? Hey, answer me!
[ Frederick ought to be proud of Rohan. Maybe he's not as shitty of a person as everyone makes him out to be, especially Cam.
Unfortunately for Rohan's reputation, Fred is still too busy dying to care about just who it is saving him. He's fading in and out of consciousness as Rohan drags him out of the water and back onto dry land.
Faintly he can hear noise in the distance. Who exactly is shouting? It's fine, everything's fine, he's just cold. He tries to articulate his thoughts and tell whoever it is to go away, but only manages to dribble a little bit of water out the side of his mouth. Maybe in another minute or two... ]
you can give me tags of nothing but 'he dying' it's fine
[ If this were Japan, he could just call for an ambulance. This isn't Japan? So, he has to rely on the knowledge he read on the internet. Sorry Fred, this is the best you get. You could have drowned in front of a healer or doctor but you chose to drown in front of a mangaka. ]
I've only read about CPR from the internet, but ... [ He'll give it a shot. It's not like there's anyone else actually around. Rohan puts his hands in the square of Fred's chest and starts pumping, putting his weight into it. If Fred's conscious enough, it'll probably be painful.
He then pries open the other man's mouth and lines their lips, blowing into his mouth. why is this the first kiss i've ever written on this account? who knows ]
[ Look, it's not like he thought he would be drowning today?? Cut him some slack.
In return I'll cut Rohan the mangaka some slack and cut short this horrendous CPR experience. Whether it's due to the sad CPR attempt or because Fred wasn't all that far gone in the first place, Rohan's actions have their intended effect: Fred coughs, weakly at first and then with more vigor as his lungs reject the water that's leaked into them.
Though hopefully Rohan gets out of the way before Fred starts spewing water into his mouth in some kind of gross reverse kiss.
Soon enough though his eyes are feebly opening as he tries vainly to speak through continued coughs. ]
What...where....
[ What happened?? ]
SURPRISE. ....this isn't a surprise i pmed you first
[In theory, it's not a bad idea. Tasking a bunch of incoming refugees with retrieving parts from the wreckage is a good way of testing their mettle and getting something out of it, too.
In practice? There are a lot of groups here separately from each other, and they're not coordinating.
If they were, maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe Frederick and Haru would have known that thy were each investigating separate levels of the ship. Maybe she would have realized that, as she vaulted over a railing to drop down, she should have looked before she leapt. Maybe he would have known to keep an eye out for flying phantom thieves.
Instead, he walks out into the open just as she starts to fall, and there's only an instant to call out a warning - ]
Look out!
SURPRISE i'm finally tagging back after like a week
[ The only things of import that fly around where he comes from are birds and the occasional pegasus. One is decidedly bigger and more dangerous than the other, but so far he's encountered zero (0) pegasi and only a scant few birds, all of which he's only glimpsed at a distance. There's been no reason to be wary of things attacking him from the sky, so when a warning rings out, he looks in the direction where he expects the attack to come from first: off to one side.
To the side and finally up when he sees nothing, but by then Haru's form is already plummeting awfully close and then she's slamming right into his face, and down they both go in a heap, snow dislodging from railings at the loud thud.
On the bright side, from the way he groans and tries to shift her off, he's not dead. On the not bright side, he'll probably have a beautiful bruise on his face for the next week. ]
[Hmm. This is highly unfortunate. Haru rolls away in an attempt to disentangle herself from the poor, hapless knight after they both slam into the ground, and sits up quickly.
Painful, yes, but she can walk it off.
The question is - can he? He broke her fall; he's probably more injured than she is.]
[ Ah yes, what a beautifully coherent reply. But wait—there's more! A cough, followed by a weak gurgle, and then finally...real words! ]
It's—it's fine, I've suffered through worse.
[ This is barely a scratch compared to some of his sustained battle wounds. And for the most part, he looks fine, with just the addition of some fresh new cuts on his face as he pushes himself back up into a sitting position. ]
And—yourself?
[ He's still trying to catch his breath, give him a few more moments. ]
Edited (me???? am i soulbonding now) 2018-08-08 14:46 (UTC)
[Sure, she's a little winded, but... she's also had worse. Haru is mostly steady as she gets to her feet, and she gives him a few moments to catch his breath before offering him her hand to help him up.]
I should have looked before I jumped. ...ah... were you also tasked with salvaging some of the technology here?
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nysalogs2018-07-21 07:59 pm
JVJ
Someone needs to clean up this mess. It may as well be him.
So he stands, arms overflowing with photos of men, women, animals, locations, and tries valiantly to return photo to owner to the best of his ability. It doesn't go well - for one, many of those passing through simply don't care, and for another, there are enough people that matching photo to person in the two seconds allotted is a daunting - if not impossible - task.
But still he tries.
He tries now, scooping up a newly printed set of photos and rushing over to the older gentleman that's just strolled by. ]
Beg pardon, but might these belong to you?
[ Please say yes, his arms really can't hold any more pictures. ]
no subject
When he is approached by the young man, he is about to deny ownership for these papers he has never seen — but then he is startled by the image preserved in the foremost photograph. It features himself, as seen from perhaps several paces away, in mid stride with a serene smile adorning his countenance; at his side, and it is to there that his eyes are drawn, both in the photograph and the present, walks Cosette. Her hair catches the sunlight and her expression is sweet. His heart soars and aches at once for this sight he has not seen in months while in stasis she sleeps.
Finally, he finds his voice. His expression remains bemused.]
Where did you get these?
god i'm the worst
From the machines [ he points at one hovering five feet away ] surrounding us, though I cannot say yet who they choose to photograph and when. However, many of these photographs seem to hold significance to those they belong to. I simply wished to return them in case they proved important.
[ From the way this man's gaze stays firmly on the picture held out to him, he'd say the picture is at least of interest, if not import. ]
Is she a relative of yours? A niece, perhaps?
[ The age difference makes the theory plausible. ]
yes you are val :\
Yes, thank you, monsieur.
[He then reaches to carefully take the stack that the young man had gathered. As the photographs pass hands, Jean Valjean lifts his gaze to him and gives a quiet wistful smile.]
She is my daughter.
[A simple and ordinary statement, but the way he says it seems to carry much weight.]
cries, forgive me kath
Reflexively, Frederick's gaze is drawn back to the picture of the young woman, whom he silently begins to contrast against the man before him. They don't look much alike, but perhaps she takes after her mother more? In any case, it's clear the man loves her very much, which is all that matters to Fred. He smiles softly. ]
Your daughter is a beautiful young woman. What is her name?
[ Hard to tell if this man is a Refugee or a local, and thus harder to know if the young woman is present with them or not. ]
no subject
no subject
ROHAN
Well, for one, there's the cold. Not quite as bitter as it had been when they'd first arrived in Nadril but still persistent in its attempts to seep through exposed holes and bury itself into his bones. His usual endless patience is warped thin as he pauses every so often to rub at his arms and restore a tiny bit of warmth. But a tiny bit is not enough and eventually he stands up to try and fullbody shake some wakefulness into himself—right as another lumbering man passes by, unwittingly knocking Frederick from his perch on the pier.
He stumbles, falls, and underneath his sudden weight the ice cracks and splits, thinner in this particular area for some unknown reason. Try as he might to scrabble against the ice that's left, his hands find no purchase and it's not long before the water consumes him, with only bubbles rising up to the surface. ]
no subject
Did anyone see what happened? [ The closest people are way too far, evidently. There's no one to help Frederick but Rohan. ] He fell in!
[ He really doesn't want to jump into freezing water, but it'll probably only be minutes before hypothermia sets in. He doesn't want to watch somebody die, either. Rohan jumps in, swimming after Fred. ]
i'm sorry, this is a pillow queen tag
Not that Frederick is at all aware of what's happening, too busy drowning in the frigid cold water to pay much mind to the flurry of action around him. His arms flail in a desperate attempt to crawl back to the surface and for a moment, he's successful. His head splashes back out of the water, long enough for him to gasp two lungfuls of precious air.
But the fifty layers he's put on himself to ward off the chill are his downfall, becoming infinitely heavy the more they're waterlogged and dragging him down, down, down.
On the bright side, he's not really moving outwards and away, merely down, though his still flailing arms might make it difficult for Rohan to approach. ]
it's okay he's like drowning
He's not the most athletic swimmer, but at least he's dressed fairly light for the circumstances and won't be as weighed down. Saving a person from drowning would be so much easier if he had a strong, combat-based Stand, but Heaven's Door is about as physically strong as a small child. All this is on Rohan.
Thankfully, he's got a fair bit of luck on his side. He managed to dive in just before Fred had sank too low to reach, and even despite the flailing, one of his hands make contact with Fred's wrist.
Now comes the hard part -- pulling the guy up when he's heavier than he is and wearing so much. Rohan manages to haul him high enough that half of him breaks through the surface at least. He then crawls out himself and starts yanking the rest of Frederick out.
This has been a real feat. Rohan's pretty winded from it. He starts shaking Fred lightly to see if the guy can response. ] Your name's Frederick, isn't it? Hey, answer me!
i regret this thread, i hate pillowqueening
Unfortunately for Rohan's reputation, Fred is still too busy dying to care about just who it is saving him. He's fading in and out of consciousness as Rohan drags him out of the water and back onto dry land.
Faintly he can hear noise in the distance. Who exactly is shouting? It's fine, everything's fine, he's just cold. He tries to articulate his thoughts and tell whoever it is to go away, but only manages to dribble a little bit of water out the side of his mouth. Maybe in another minute or two... ]
you can give me tags of nothing but 'he dying' it's fine
I've only read about CPR from the internet, but ... [ He'll give it a shot. It's not like there's anyone else actually around. Rohan puts his hands in the square of Fred's chest and starts pumping, putting his weight into it. If Fred's conscious enough, it'll probably be painful.
He then pries open the other man's mouth and lines their lips, blowing into his mouth. why is this the first kiss i've ever written on this account? who knows ]
no!!!
In return I'll cut Rohan the mangaka some slack and cut short this horrendous CPR experience. Whether it's due to the sad CPR attempt or because Fred wasn't all that far gone in the first place, Rohan's actions have their intended effect: Fred coughs, weakly at first and then with more vigor as his lungs reject the water that's leaked into them.
Though hopefully Rohan gets out of the way before Fred starts spewing water into his mouth in some kind of gross reverse kiss.
Soon enough though his eyes are feebly opening as he tries vainly to speak through continued coughs. ]
What...where....
[ What happened?? ]
SURPRISE. ....this isn't a surprise i pmed you first
In practice? There are a lot of groups here separately from each other, and they're not coordinating.
If they were, maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe Frederick and Haru would have known that thy were each investigating separate levels of the ship. Maybe she would have realized that, as she vaulted over a railing to drop down, she should have looked before she leapt. Maybe he would have known to keep an eye out for flying phantom thieves.
Instead, he walks out into the open just as she starts to fall, and there's only an instant to call out a warning - ]
Look out!
SURPRISE i'm finally tagging back after like a week
To the side and finally up when he sees nothing, but by then Haru's form is already plummeting awfully close and then she's slamming right into his face, and down they both go in a heap, snow dislodging from railings at the loud thud.
On the bright side, from the way he groans and tries to shift her off, he's not dead. On the not bright side, he'll probably have a beautiful bruise on his face for the next week. ]
RIGHT BACK AT U
Painful, yes, but she can walk it off.
The question is - can he? He broke her fall; he's probably more injured than she is.]
I'm- I'm terribly sorry, sir!
no subject
[ Ah yes, what a beautifully coherent reply. But wait—there's more! A cough, followed by a weak gurgle, and then finally...real words! ]
It's—it's fine, I've suffered through worse.
[ This is barely a scratch compared to some of his sustained battle wounds. And for the most part, he looks fine, with just the addition of some fresh new cuts on his face as he pushes himself back up into a sitting position. ]
And—yourself?
[ He's still trying to catch his breath, give him a few more moments. ]
no subject
[Sure, she's a little winded, but... she's also had worse. Haru is mostly steady as she gets to her feet, and she gives him a few moments to catch his breath before offering him her hand to help him up.]
I should have looked before I jumped. ...ah... were you also tasked with salvaging some of the technology here?