Post by FÉLIX LESGLE on Jun 12, 2013 19:38:11 GMT -5
félix lesgle. twenty-five. les amis. benedict cumberbatch.
His specialty was not to succeed in anything. As an offset, he laughed at everything.
Call him Lesgle, L'aigle, or Bossuet—the name won't make a bit of difference to his luck, or rather, lack thereof. It's a good thing so much misfortune falls on this bald head instead of another, because by nature he's well-equipped to deal with it. He simply takes it in stride and laughs at every new piece of trouble. Nothing surprises him. He's learned to expect anything, especially the unfortunate. Most people would take these constant blows to heart and would quickly succumb to despair, but not the ironically-named Félix Lesgle. He is nearly always in a good humor. If he was only happy when he was having a stretch of good luck, well, then his would be a very gloomy life indeed.
Bossuet is his nickname, to save time; also because it's extremely fitting and not just because he comes from Meaux. Although he was rescued from pursuing a law degree by a circumstance that incidentally led to Marius meeting the Amis—it's debatable whether he considers this bad or good luck, he seems to be glad about it, but he seems that way about everything—he still has the lawyer's propensity and aptitude for making speeches. It's mainly from this that he gained the epithet; his hometown just made it more perfect. He may claim not to miss the courtroom, but instead he transplants the oratory that should have gone to defending or attacking on the legal stage to his private life. Whenever he speaks, it's clear he isn't poor through lack of intelligence. He's got wit and isn't afraid to use it, in French or in Latin.
He is always poor, but somehow that doesn't stop him having a good time. Because of his perpetual misfortune, he's had to also learn resourcefulness, a lesson he's picked up quite easily. He can manage to spend money no one, possibly not even himself, thought he had. Sometimes he relies on his friends for a place to sleep; other times he has nowhere to stay. Whatever the case, he accepts it with the same equanimity with which he accepts everything that befalls him. He's a bit of a dilettante, even about the revolution, but he makes up for it in loyalty towards his friends, especially Joly. It takes a certain kind of fellow to share everything, including a mistress, but Lesgle is that kind of man, generous and selfless even to strangers. He has enough ego to give himself confidence, but no more.
At five and twenty he was bald.
It must be admitted, he looks about as unlucky as he is, except for his inevitably cheery expression. Not that he's ugly by any means. He's actually average-looking, with some agreeable features and some not. He just hasn't escaped the physical marks of misfortune and poverty. His coat is threadbare; it's been through everything with him and is by now like an old friend. The rest of his clothes aren't in much better shape, although they are newer. Musichetta repairs them when they get too far gone, but he doesn’t like to bother her with it. He wears a cheap wig, his one concession to his vanity. He might look better with it off as cheap as it is, but there's no way around it: a man under forty with no hair cannot hope to be fashionable. Of course, Lesgle doesn't aspire to such lofty heights as 'fashionable,' it's just easier than fielding questions and curious stares.
He possessed knowledge and wit, but all he did miscarried.
Lesgle comes from a family that's minor in the scheme of things, but was well-respected in Meaux. His father was the post-master—family legend says this was thanks to a favorable encounter with the king himself, but family legends being what they are, its truthfulness should be taken with a block of salt. In any case, the elder Lesgle was successful enough to buy a house and some land to go along with it. Félix Lesgle's first years, then, lived up to his name. He was content to grow up trailing along behind his older brother Sébastien, and with the pressure of responsibility falling on Bastien’s shoulders, Félix was able to get away with being a less than stellar student. The four years of seniority suited Bastien well, because he was the responsible one and kept his brother from getting into too much trouble.
Perhaps it's not so surprising then that his string of misfortunes began with one piece of luck for Sébastien. He was studying law at the university in Paris, but when he learned about an opportunity as French tutor to a family of English nobles, he snatched it up eagerly. He’d never felt that the role of lawyer fit him, and what he really wanted to do was teach, so this was perfect. But if it was perfect for Bastien, it was a disaster for his brother, and by extension the whole family.
Félix was sixteen, a dangerous age—old enough to get into serious trouble, young enough to know no better. One day a con man came through Meaux and happened to stop by the post-master's house when the elder Lesgle was away. He persuaded Félix to invest heavily in some stocks, despite the fact that he was too young to have any wealth of his own to risk. Predictably, they turned out to be worthless, the 'investments' going only towards lining the man's pockets. Suddenly bankrupt, just like that, they were forced to sell house and property.
There was just a little money left over from their sale, and after he'd bungled things so badly, Lesgle couldn't really argue when his father wanted him to become a lawyer. It wasn't what he wanted though, and he could only pretend so far. He continued his lackluster academic record from Meaux, preferring to frequent the cafés and be a student to actually studying. This was made worse when he met Joly, Courfeyrac, and the other Amis, some at the university, some in the cafés. As the years passed with no degree in sight, his bad luck continued to follow him, keeping him constantly poor, but at least he always knew what to expect. Namely, the worst.
He was still theoretically limping his way towards a degree when he did a good turn for a fellow student and in doing so, got himself kicked off the rolls instead. As it turned out, this fellow student was one Marius Pontmercy; Lesgle introduced him to Courfeyrac, and he introduced Marius to the rest of the Amis. Meanwhile, the unlucky Lesgle had finally found a turn of good fortune through becoming good friends with Joly and also Musichetta, and as if companionship wasn't enough, he has a more or less steady place to stay. Even so, he's not getting his hopes up for the revolution that's surely coming. He does hope it will be successful, of course, but he doesn't expect to survive it. His luck can't possibly have turned that good.
----
levi. twenty-seven. ad on caution.
His specialty was not to succeed in anything. As an offset, he laughed at everything.
Call him Lesgle, L'aigle, or Bossuet—the name won't make a bit of difference to his luck, or rather, lack thereof. It's a good thing so much misfortune falls on this bald head instead of another, because by nature he's well-equipped to deal with it. He simply takes it in stride and laughs at every new piece of trouble. Nothing surprises him. He's learned to expect anything, especially the unfortunate. Most people would take these constant blows to heart and would quickly succumb to despair, but not the ironically-named Félix Lesgle. He is nearly always in a good humor. If he was only happy when he was having a stretch of good luck, well, then his would be a very gloomy life indeed.
Bossuet is his nickname, to save time; also because it's extremely fitting and not just because he comes from Meaux. Although he was rescued from pursuing a law degree by a circumstance that incidentally led to Marius meeting the Amis—it's debatable whether he considers this bad or good luck, he seems to be glad about it, but he seems that way about everything—he still has the lawyer's propensity and aptitude for making speeches. It's mainly from this that he gained the epithet; his hometown just made it more perfect. He may claim not to miss the courtroom, but instead he transplants the oratory that should have gone to defending or attacking on the legal stage to his private life. Whenever he speaks, it's clear he isn't poor through lack of intelligence. He's got wit and isn't afraid to use it, in French or in Latin.
He is always poor, but somehow that doesn't stop him having a good time. Because of his perpetual misfortune, he's had to also learn resourcefulness, a lesson he's picked up quite easily. He can manage to spend money no one, possibly not even himself, thought he had. Sometimes he relies on his friends for a place to sleep; other times he has nowhere to stay. Whatever the case, he accepts it with the same equanimity with which he accepts everything that befalls him. He's a bit of a dilettante, even about the revolution, but he makes up for it in loyalty towards his friends, especially Joly. It takes a certain kind of fellow to share everything, including a mistress, but Lesgle is that kind of man, generous and selfless even to strangers. He has enough ego to give himself confidence, but no more.
At five and twenty he was bald.
It must be admitted, he looks about as unlucky as he is, except for his inevitably cheery expression. Not that he's ugly by any means. He's actually average-looking, with some agreeable features and some not. He just hasn't escaped the physical marks of misfortune and poverty. His coat is threadbare; it's been through everything with him and is by now like an old friend. The rest of his clothes aren't in much better shape, although they are newer. Musichetta repairs them when they get too far gone, but he doesn’t like to bother her with it. He wears a cheap wig, his one concession to his vanity. He might look better with it off as cheap as it is, but there's no way around it: a man under forty with no hair cannot hope to be fashionable. Of course, Lesgle doesn't aspire to such lofty heights as 'fashionable,' it's just easier than fielding questions and curious stares.
He possessed knowledge and wit, but all he did miscarried.
Lesgle comes from a family that's minor in the scheme of things, but was well-respected in Meaux. His father was the post-master—family legend says this was thanks to a favorable encounter with the king himself, but family legends being what they are, its truthfulness should be taken with a block of salt. In any case, the elder Lesgle was successful enough to buy a house and some land to go along with it. Félix Lesgle's first years, then, lived up to his name. He was content to grow up trailing along behind his older brother Sébastien, and with the pressure of responsibility falling on Bastien’s shoulders, Félix was able to get away with being a less than stellar student. The four years of seniority suited Bastien well, because he was the responsible one and kept his brother from getting into too much trouble.
Perhaps it's not so surprising then that his string of misfortunes began with one piece of luck for Sébastien. He was studying law at the university in Paris, but when he learned about an opportunity as French tutor to a family of English nobles, he snatched it up eagerly. He’d never felt that the role of lawyer fit him, and what he really wanted to do was teach, so this was perfect. But if it was perfect for Bastien, it was a disaster for his brother, and by extension the whole family.
Félix was sixteen, a dangerous age—old enough to get into serious trouble, young enough to know no better. One day a con man came through Meaux and happened to stop by the post-master's house when the elder Lesgle was away. He persuaded Félix to invest heavily in some stocks, despite the fact that he was too young to have any wealth of his own to risk. Predictably, they turned out to be worthless, the 'investments' going only towards lining the man's pockets. Suddenly bankrupt, just like that, they were forced to sell house and property.
There was just a little money left over from their sale, and after he'd bungled things so badly, Lesgle couldn't really argue when his father wanted him to become a lawyer. It wasn't what he wanted though, and he could only pretend so far. He continued his lackluster academic record from Meaux, preferring to frequent the cafés and be a student to actually studying. This was made worse when he met Joly, Courfeyrac, and the other Amis, some at the university, some in the cafés. As the years passed with no degree in sight, his bad luck continued to follow him, keeping him constantly poor, but at least he always knew what to expect. Namely, the worst.
He was still theoretically limping his way towards a degree when he did a good turn for a fellow student and in doing so, got himself kicked off the rolls instead. As it turned out, this fellow student was one Marius Pontmercy; Lesgle introduced him to Courfeyrac, and he introduced Marius to the rest of the Amis. Meanwhile, the unlucky Lesgle had finally found a turn of good fortune through becoming good friends with Joly and also Musichetta, and as if companionship wasn't enough, he has a more or less steady place to stay. Even so, he's not getting his hopes up for the revolution that's surely coming. He does hope it will be successful, of course, but he doesn't expect to survive it. His luck can't possibly have turned that good.
----
levi. twenty-seven. ad on caution.
