In the Fanmaker's Shop (Tag: Jehan)

[JEAN ALEXIS PROUVAIRE]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]625 WORDS FOR Feuilly No notes at present. MEETINGS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Jean chuckled at the poignant proclamation of manhood by his new prospective friend. Then, he quieted hoping that he hadn't offended him by laughing in such a place. It was not that he scorned or thought amusing the idea that the other boy wasn't human... nothing of the sort - it was just the way he had expressed it and the look on his face coupled with the determination that he didn't know what Jean's servants did for him, but that he wasn't going to be carrying the student's coat for him. He was terribly amused at this declaration and kept his quiet snigger well.. at least quiet, but he did understand where it came from at least, which was more than some boys in his age and position could do. "Don't worry. You don't have to carry my coat." He paused vaguely, wondering if the other boy would be able to take a joke back. "Only my bag." He tacked on with a smirk, but he looked over at Feuilly to let him know that he was only teasing him and hefted his bookbag higher on his shoulder as they began to walk. He wondered vaguely what his new companion had been through to make him so jaded. He supposed that there were other boys out there who were more jaded, but he didn't know them. In fact, this really was his first close contact with anyone significantly poorer than himself on a real basis. He had feelings about helping the poor and identify with the cause of the working class, of course.. but that didn't necessarily mean he'd been particularly close with people in that situation. In fact, they'd always seemed a bit their own breed which he'd never had much reason to run into. It was not as though he specifically tried to avoid them, but the mixing of worlds of a rich only son of an aristocrat who was studying degrees in language and literature and music simultaneously and spent most of his nights debating with others in his circle did not usually cross with people like this fanmaker who made probably only a few francs a day and would work until his fingers bled and his eyesight gave out. This knowledge made Jean feel rather guilty about his life of pampered luxury. He tried to direct his thoughts away from such morose thought. It wasn't entirely difficult to do when he heard Feuilly's response that he would accompany him to eat at Jean's invitation. "Excellent. I'm glad. It seems like we might get a chance to know each other better after all." He said nothing to the charge of expense, not wanting to explain himself to this end and wanting Feuilly to learn to trust him a little bit more. He set off down the street leading the other boy. He knew well enough where he would take him. The cafe where all of his friends met to discuss any number of things, share drinks and sometimes food, and debate with great passion would do well. Perhaps he would even be able to introduce Feuilly to some of his friends. They arrived there in little time and he pushed open the door with a smile. "This suit your taste then? And yes.. actually.. I have been following it. I see what you mean, though I would point out that it's certainly not the first time in history something like that has happened. Countries regularly take over and defame the original culture of a place - not to say that makes less of it just.. that it happens tragically often." He added as he scouted out a table. "I'd like to visit Poland someday though. And Russia. And many other places." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

[CHRISTOPHE FEUILLY]

Feuilly glanced up at Prouvaire and his laughter, squinting slightly in some mix of suspicion and confusion. What was so funny about anything he'd said? Probably his accent... he was working on it, but the working-class world of workshops and shipyards in Marseille had placed its stamp on his voice from his first words as a tiny child. It was difficult, sometimes, to mask it and replace it with something more proper. It was easy enough to sound like a native Parisian workingman, after so much time spent among them—but the style of the aristocratic and intellectual class eluded him, mostly through lack of exposure.

“Your bag?” He stopped abruptly, frowning, but quickly realized the other young man had shouldered his bag and continued on. A joke, then. He felt himself relax, hastening to catch up to the taller man. He grinned, allowing himself a chuckle. “Oh. I see.” He felt almost sheepish for not catching the joke immediately, but then, what sort of upper class student joked with someone like him within a few minutes of meeting him, and without evil in his heart. Maybe he is different after all. He could hope, but he tried not to let his hopes soar too high. Usually that would only come back to wound him.

Feuilly was surprised that the man had followed the situation in Poland, but maybe that was normal for students. “Oh... I guess you would be following it, wouldn't you?” He grinned shyly, almost nervously. “I guess they probably talk about that kind of thing at the university...” The Poles had fought on France's side during that last cluster of wars, he recalled, so it was probably considered some sort of patriotic duty to at least follow what was going on. Even if they didn't seem willing to help out over there—probably the king and the Tsar of Russia sympathized with one another.

“Russia is the opressor in that case,” he added, in response to Jean's assertion that he would like to go there. “Of course this kind of thing happens frequently—the same is occurring in, say, Romania or in Greece at the hands of the Turks. The problem is that in each case the empire that comes to take their freedom... well, it takes their freedom, and besides that it tries to make them into itself. The Pole will never be a Tatar like the Russian, nor will the Greek ever be a Turk.” He tried to meet the student's eyes. “It's wrong. It's unjust and it's wrong.”

I've probably said too much. It could be dangerous to admit to such things to people like Prouvaire. He would probably deserve it if the student suddenly changed his mind about him and decided he was dangerous, both on a personal level and maybe on a political one as well. He didn't mean any harm, of course, but how would he know that? Feuilly was perfectly aware that men of his class were supposed to be dangerous, violent malcontents with strong bodies but fatally weak minds in the eyes of the aristocratic classes.

Feuilly couldn't see himself like that, though sometimes he was unhappy and he supposed his body was strong enough. It had brought him this far, endured hunger and cold and too much work. It was impossible to be content with the way of the world when it was so bathed in injustice, not only for faraway countries but here at home. For people like him; for people like the girl back in Marseille that he could almost have called his first love, now lost; for the dirt-streaked and hungry gamins he knew must be watching from the shadows.

He waited for Prouvaire to enter the cafe first. It looked a little beyond his normal means—a gathering place for students, not for sweat-soaked workers with aching feet and shoulders. But neither was it the glittering refuge of spoiled aristocrats' sons that he had expected. He nodded to Prouvaire's inquiry on whether it would suit his taste, though really he didn't know if it would or not.

[JEAN ALEXIS PROUVAIRE]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]392 WORDS FOR Feuilly No notes at present. MEETINGS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Jean noticed as they walked along together that it seemed that Feuilly had taken his joke and didn't seem to be taking offense at it. It seemed it had given him pause as if he wasn't sure whether to take offense or not and ultimately had realized that it was a joke when Jean kept on walking with the bag and his jacket over his shoulder toward the café. "Well.. I don't suppose all students follow it. Most of Europe thinks that Russia .. and the rest of Eastern Europe.. is kind of a cesspit of savages. Including Poland it seems." He lifted a hand to stave off protest. "I didn't say I agreed. I find their culture pretty fascinating really. I'm just saying.. most people don't think that way. So I'm sure a lot of students aren't following them and wouldn't care to. But Eh.. they're the ones missing out on something. I think it's neat to follow political events and the like in various countries." He paused as he thought about Feuilly's adamant determination that countries invading other countries was wrong. He supposed that he himself had rather mixed feelings about the whole affair. Jean was a monarchist - technically. But only the sort willing to work with a good king who did kind things for the people.. when that didn't happen he became a liberal like now. He'd do anything to ensure liberty and justice for all people. And that gave him mixed feelings.. his monarchist side required things like invasions for empires - but his humanities side pushed that away as barbaric for the same reasons as Feuilly said that it was wrong - people were normal hurt, takeovers were usually less than peaceful. "I suppose I have mixed thoughts on it." He muttered thoughtfully as he spotted two spots that were open at the bar and motioned toward them. "I'm not against monarchies in general.. but this one clearly isn't working.. and you need capture of other places to build an empire - but that hurts people and it's rarely peaceful.. I suppose I think there are ways it can be done.. if it's going to be.. that are better and nicer to the people involved. " He waved hello to the barmaid and ordered a plate of sandwiches, tea, and some alcohol to share. "A feast." [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0