Several Days, Several Threads
[Who:] Severus Snape, John Connor, Sirius Black, Open to others
[What:] Several days in Paris
[When:] Friday, Saturday, Sunday
Tag in, start your own, general Day in the Life rules. I'm open to anything!
[What:] Several days in Paris
[When:] Friday, Saturday, Sunday
Tag in, start your own, general Day in the Life rules. I'm open to anything!
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[It's midday and they're surrounded by a throng of shoppers in the open air market in the Place de la Bastille -- the former site of the famous fortress. The Marquis looks down at his feet, and in a few thoughtful steps traces a few of the ornate paving stones meant to outline the former building. Where the Marquis has been the picture of frivolity and excess since their arrival there -- shopping like a madman, ordering only the most expensive food and springing for all the amenities in their hotel rooms -- he is bizarrely somber, now. His mirth is gone.]
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His cane clicks down against the pavement as their pace slows. He is dressed in what can only be described as quasi-Muggle, his coat one of a little excess and elaborate detail without actually being a cloak, but slacks and a shirt beneath that rather less so, expensive but plain. ]
Awfully popular, isn't it.
[ He isn't ignorant, however, not to Muggle history nor detail given in his Warden's file. ]
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He isn't watching the crowd; he's keeping his eye on the Marquis. His first meeting with the man was after the Marquis met with a ghost from his past and suffered a heart attack, and while his expression is impassive as ever, he can't help but feel a twinge of concern.
Over-protectiveness from the very beginning.]
As well it should be. A matter of national pride, no doubt: the very place where a revolution began.
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[The Marquis laughs a little.]
It is not as though I expected to find it here. I suppose it is simply more unusual to see a whole new city in the place of the one I used to know.
[Renate sits beside him obediently, though her head cocks in several directions as she watches people pass with interest.]
The outline is what's unsettling me.
[He touches it with this toe again.]
To think that all that's left of nine years of my miserable life is an enormous drawing on the street.
[He pauses, reminded of something, and draws a brochure from his jacket.]
Correction. Almost all. Apparently the last remaining pieces of the once Mighty Bastille are somewhere in that direction.
[He points away from the square toward a local park.]
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[ This is said mostly in response to Severus, before turning bland attention to the Marquis and there more curiously looking down at the traced outlines of the former tower. ]
Yes, well, history is precious but rarely kind.
Perhaps there'll also be less-- [ He eats his words as someone decidedly nonmagical brushes against him on their noisy way passed, shying a step away in feline annoyance. ] Shall we?
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He doesn't bother to respond to the comment directed his way; if Lucius wants to quibble over the importance of a revolution to people in spite of their nationality, they can do it some other time.]
Would you rather nothing had been left at all?
[It isn't challenging; it's almost absent, in fact.]
Better a line on the ground, perhaps, than a supermarket?
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[At Lucius' suggestion that they move on toward the park, his expression softens a little, and he stills. Renate stands and walks to the end of her leash, then sits again, turning her sable head back to look expectantly at him.]
You're probably right. Less populated, perhaps a little less stifling. If you gentlemen are ready.
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[ Lucius, by effort of whom he surrounds himself with back at home, is unused to feeling the part of the third wheel. He is taking it as a point of pride, however - of course he is out of place. Even in relation to Severus, now. The evidence of companionship is not a kinship he should be sharing, only observing with glances and raised eyebrows.
Still, it is different.
And so he starts off in the direction the Marquis had gestured to, neatly avoiding the paths of the crowd. He is in no rush, when it comes to this particular excursion; he merely isn't impress by tourists. Muggle tourists. ]
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But.
He falls into step with his old friend, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat.]
How are you finding it?
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We really can't take him anywhere, can we?]
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He elbows his way through the gathering crowd, but the policemen - ruddy law enforcement - stop him from getting any closer. With a glower at the man holding him back, he turns his attention to his friend. He has to raise his voice to make himself heard.]
Arthas, come down.
[He's momentarily distracted by the officer, who asks him what he assumes is 'Do you know that psychopath?' Well, no time like the present to try and remember primary school French lessons.]
Voici - Voici est mon ami. He's my - you bloody fr- Laissez-moi - la bas! Yes! Let me go get him, you imbecile. Oui! La bas! What? What- Non, il n'est pas - No, he's not insane! Bloody idiots. Arthas, get down!
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[There is some visible damage on the side of his breastplate but he doesn't seem the worse for wear. The car, however, is going to probably need its glass replaced, and the owner is currently outside of it entirely and trying to covertly pull a screaming child from the backseat to get them both to safety; Arthas doesn't notice because there are about nine people grabbing his arms to pull him down.
Snape is largely being ignored in favor of the imminent threat to public safety, except for one man who definitely says something about both of them coming down to the station to answer some questions.]
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Arthas, it's a car - it was an accident. Get down and allow me to fix this before we end up in handcuffs.
[Of course, Snape is beginning to wonder just what these people will do to him if he Apparates himself and Arthas out of the situation - if anything at all. The problem is, he has to get to Arthas first.]
Arthas -
[In broken French, he attempts to explain that Arthas is mentally unstable, and if the officer won't unhand him, there will be legal ramifications. The man holding him back seems unimpressed with this threat.]
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