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]

[ She may recognize him as the man who refused to believe that the enormous skeletons scattered across Wyver could be anything other than art pieces. He looks just the same, after all, with his hair a wild mess of curls and a bottle of wine in his hand.

He isn’t so drunk yet that he doesn’t notice her caution, but he merely smiles and settles back into his chair, taking a swig straight from the bottle. ]

Luckily, the manners of the bartender haven't sullied the wine. It’s a fine vintage, I assure you. I would be unable to distinguish it from a Parisian wine, if I weren't aware of where we currently are.

[oddbod]

[That almost makes her laugh.]

I don't think I'd know Parisian wine if it slapped me in the face. I usually just buy whatever's cheapest at Tesco.

[Said as if she's still living in London, stopping off at the shop on the way home from Coal Hill. She doesn't allow herself the moment it would take to think about she's never going back there. With a guarded smile, she finally lifts the glass and takes a sip.]

[winecasks]

[ He leans back in his seat, squinting as he attempts to make sense of her words. ]

There was more than enough cheap wine to be found in Paris. Not all of it was necessarily good, but it could get the job done when a man’s pockets couldn’t afford him to be picky.

[ Abruptly, he leans forward again, taking a sudden interest. Clara, what have you done? ]

Tell me, what is Tesco?

[oddbod]

[She smiles, relishing the taste of the wine before finally swallowing.]

It’s a type of store. Massive, sells everything from bread to soap to... [She suddenly feels as though she’s forgotten every word this man might possibly know.] ... anything else you’d ever need, probably.

[She takes another large sip of wine.]

[winecasks]

[ He pauses mid-drink and raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely fascinated. A great deal of what he’s learned (dragons, magic, witches, for instance), he hasn’t allowed himself to believe, but this almost makes sense to him. ]

In one shop? It must be as large as the Seine is long, to hold so much. How many hundreds of people must have to work there?

[oddbod]

[She actually has to think about it for a moment.]

I've never asked. A hundred? [Another sip of wine; she's missed it dearly.] And not as big as the Seine, but maybe as big as Notre Dame.

[winecasks]

[ He inclines his head, musing on this thought for a moment. It really is fascinating, and he makes a note to tell Enjolras about it later.

It’s a note he’ll doubtlessly forget, but something else Clara says brings him pause. Notre Dame had long since fallen into disrepair when he and his friends met their fates, and restoration attempts wouldn’t be put into place until many years afterward. The cathedral he remembers was far from beautiful, and he vaguely recalls the suggestion to remove it being put forward more than once. ]

You know of Notre-Dame de Paris? What an unsightly lady she was, too. How did she still manage to stand when she was crumbling to ruin when last I saw her?

[ Grantaire believes in so little, but somewhere along the line, he’s managed to accept that not everyone is from the year 1832. He’s been forced to. It's terrible, and he's inconsistent with it because he's so unused to it. ]

[oddbod]

[Oh, he is going to be thrilled.]

They restored her. She's beautiful, now. Eight hundred years old, and people still coming from all over to see her.

[winecasks]

Really?

[ Congratulations, Clara, you’ve managed to temporarily override his inability to believe in anything by playing to his interest in the city of Paris itself. He knew every cobblestone on those streets, every alleyway, every crack in every wall. It was one of the few things he could be proud of. None of his friends knew the city quite as intimately as he did.

For once, he actually puts down the bottle, his eyes wide with fascination. ]

And the elephant? The one placed at the Bastille? Surely there was no restoring that unsightly edifice. It looked more an open wound than it did a majestic beast. But they built it well enough, a strong wind couldn't have knocked it over and prevented it from blocking the view.

[oddbod]

[With a little bit of a laugh, ] The elephant's gone. A column's there now instead, the July Column. Looks a lot nicer, I'm sure.

[She wishes she knew a bit more French history, right about now.]