Catchall

[winecasks]

Who: Grantaire & OPEN
What: Catch-all for January
When: January. Just January
Where: Mostly Wyver with an Olympia option
Warning(s): N…one…? He’s a trainwreck but he’s harmless



1. Obligatory drinking prompt [Wyver]

[ Grantaire isn’t blind to the sudden shift in atmosphere within Wyver. Even within an otherwise friendly establishment, he’s watched from behind wine glasses and bottles as more than one patron is refused service for what seems to be no particular reason. It strikes him as odd, but he his head is always an impossible tangle of thoughts and words, and the reasoning has gotten caught up within them entirely. He hadn’t chosen a ribbon on Gala night, so he remains a welcome customer despite his fondness for spouting nonsense.

Grantaire doesn’t have a particularly strong stance on anything at all, but he is a friendly soul. To the next person who is turned away by the bartender, Grantaire turns, gently grabs hold of them by their arm, and pulls them down to sit across from him. He smiles, almost obliviously, as he pours wine into a glass from a bottle he’s purchased himself, and then forces the glass into his new companion’s hand. ]

There you are, my friend. Now I’ve served you myself, and your supposedly unwelcome money didn’t need to be spent at all. I don’t suppose any complaints can be made about that, do you?


2. Around Wyver

[ Though Grantaire spends a great deal of his time drinking, he makes a special effort to learn the city. It has its quirks and its history, even if the native citizens strangely can’t seem to recall it. Throughout the day, you can find him at various points throughout the city—surprisingly doing something productive. He’s acquired a sketchbook and charcoal, and he seems to be attempting to create sketches of parts of the city that he finds interesting, though he seems upset. He furrows his eyebrows at his paper more often than not, marks through pages entirely, runs his fingers through his hair in frustration and mumbles quietly to himself. ]

Hideous. Distorted perspective. Delusional Grantaire, they’ll say. He sees the world just as twisted as he claims it really is.

[ If you were to peer over this shoulder, you might see that they’re not that bad. He’s just out of practice and expecting miracles. Is that anime? ]

3. Another drinking prompt because this sad sack of shit [Olympia]

[ Grantaire’s frustration with himself has caused his spirits to sink, while his desire to drink has skyrocketed. He wonders vaguely if Olympia wine is of superior or lesser quality in comparison to Wyver wine, and in a thoughtless decision, he decides to put it to the test.

He isn’t as familiar with Olympia. Unwilling to leave Enjolras, the only friend he has left from the barricade, Wyver has become his new home, but he makes his way to the other city regardless.

The last of his money is spent rather quickly, and his glass drained even more quickly--more than once. Feel free to find him slumped over a table in the corner completely conked out. It's not a good look. Give him a little shake? ]

4. Wildcard

[ Just…anything. Or grab me at muttonchops for a top level. ]

Comments

[winecasks]

[ The real train wreck in this situation is most certainly the artist himself, who is harder on himself than his sketch really warrants. It’s fine. It’s not the beginnings of a masterpiece by any means, but it’s done by the hand of someone who clearly has talent. Grantaire, unfortunately, is the type of man who tends to squander his talents. This is his first time returning to art after quite a long time.

He jumps in surprise as he’s slapped across the back, neither expecting to be overheard or least of all, reassured. ]

I fear that you may be just as blind as I am, or that you may see the world in a similarly warped manner.

[ He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows at his paper. He wants to turn the page and hide his shame, but it’s already been seen. He can see every flaw, and that’s with three drinks in him. He can’t imagine how terrible it must look with a completely clear mind. ]

I try to sketch a city street and what I turn up with looks more like a labyrinth. I would do well to place a minotaur at its center, but I would certainly create a poor representation of that as well.

[playingfetch]

[Lancer's never been outright accused of having a warped worldview, literally or otherwise, but he can't exactly argue it, and he laughs it off rather than find offense in it. It's obvious anyway that whatever's going on here is metaphorical. Maybe it's an . . . artist thing, or something. They tend to be funny types.]

Taking a dig at a guy who offered you a compliment! You're in this rut pretty deep. Here I thought I could at least get a smile out o' you. Let me see here . . .

[No luck hiding any shame here: Lancer's already squinting at the page to get a better look. It's half for show. He knows what the sketch looks like by now; it's just one of those thoughtful gestures, and perhaps, in a small way, getting a dig in back.]

You should go for it. Adding the minotaur. Sounds like an artistic vision to me. Now that you've said that, you'll see it every time you look at this thing anyway, so why not embrace it?

[winecasks]

It’s a rut as deep as any ocean. I’m likely to drown in it if I’m not careful.

[ He unfortunately lacks in…a number of things. Motivation, confidence, belief, and happiness, to begin with. All of this has piled high onto his shoulders and makes it nearly impossible for him to function like a health person. If he had his choice, he would abandon the sketch all together in his frustration, but he has an audience now with a much more positive mindset than him.

He glances back at Lancer, uncertain, but with a light and hesitant hand, begins to sketch once more, forming the lines of the minotaur with more expertise than he gives himself credit for. ]

Will you rescue me, if I should stumble in this endeavor? Or will you leave me to struggle?

[playingfetch]

[Ah, he's drawing. Lancer's going to consider that a win, or at least the first step on the way to a win. Look, it's even shaping up to be good! He watches with genuine interest and a little smile; this isn't actually the kind of thing he does often. Street artists tend to be a lot more upbeat than this guy. Well, they're getting paid. Probably helps the mood.]

I'll tell you what. You manage to bring the drawing to life, I'll slay the minotaur for you. That's about what I'm good for. Art stuff? Not that I'm saying no, but I ain't sure what to offer you there. I'm not anywhere near as good with a pencil as you are.

[winecasks]

[ Truth be told, Grantaire has never truly been paid for anything in his life. He’s the only child from a wealthy family and subsisted on a substantial allowance from his parents—and on gambling. His lack of optimism is something that has been long ingrained within him and just one of the reasons that caused him to abandon art school to begin with.

The effect that encouragement has on him isn’t long-lasting, but it does help to a certain extent. Lancer’s encouragement is helping him to at least not completely scrap this picture, at least. Lines of frustration form on his face as he sketches, the minotaur beginning to take form, but he’s never heavy-handed. ]

What a valiant hero you are, to ready yourself to slay a terrible drawing.

[ And still he berates himself, but he keeps drawing none the less. ]

A true minotaur would surely turn tail at the very sight of such a horror. Do you disagree?

[playingfetch]

When you talk like that, I can't tell if you're giving yourself too much credit or not enough.

[At last he sets down the crate he's been carrying; it smells of seawater, but when he slides the lid off, what's inside (at the moment, at least) is a cache of bottled beer. It's still chilled enough, drippy with condensation, that it's obvious he bought it in town. And there's enough of it that carrying it with one arm should have been very difficult—but does that matter? It's beer. He grabs a bottle and holds it out.]

Well, if I can't pay you back for this piece by slaying any monsters for you, how's this? You're gonna let me keep this, right? I could use something to go over the fire, make my place a little more homey. Nothing like a good monster for that.

[winecasks]

[ He pauses, staring dully at the bottle being offered to him. He thinks briefly of Enjolras, of how he’s tried to swear to himself not to disappoint him, but the alcohol is too strong of a draw for him. He’s already broken that promise so many times, it’s hardly recognizable any longer.

He reaches for the bottle, and even manages a small, but grateful smile. ]

My preference errs more towards wine, but any Frenchman would tell you the same. France is not known for its beer. All the same, you have my thanks, monsieur.

[ He doesn’t really seem to have any complaints as he cracks the top open and immediately takes an enormous swig. After he’s satisfied, he turns his gaze back to his paper. ]

Yes, you can keep it if you like. You can keep the entire book when I'm through with it. At least the pages will make for good kindling.

[playingfetch]

You don't quit, huh? I feel like I should've given you a dozen of those instead of the one. A guy needs to loosen up! Go easy on yourself.

[If only it were that easy. But Lancer isn't a person with the firmest concept of self-care or healthy coping mechanisms.

He does at least have a concept of what France is, even if he has to search his head for a moment to come up with the specifics in terms he knows himself: right, that's Gaul. Lancer bends to replace the lid on the crate after withdrawing a bottle for himself—what's the point in not drinking if you're in the company of someone drinking, seriously—and peers up through his bangs with a hum.]

I don't know a whole lot about France, but at least I've heard of it! Half the time I get a country name outta someone here, it's on some other planet. I'm from Erin myself. You can call me Lancer. Maybe I should've introduced myself before we shared a drink