An open post for all your RP needs of any type. Pick a muse from my muselist and leave me a prompt Picture, lyrics, starter, quote. Any prompt is fine.
It isn't that far of a stretch to guess who left the little gift on his doorstep for Grantaire to nearly step on in the early afternoon when he finally decided to step out of his flat. The hand-writing on the tag alone was enough to place this as Enjolras' handiwork and left R staring at it in drowsy confusion. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, half-way between a sigh and a huff at the chilly air before taking the bundle inside and shutting his door behind him.
What sort of daydream was this, that had him imagining Enjolras deigning to leave him a gift, and so cryptically at that. Was he trying to stimulate Grantaire's mind? It was more than stimulated enough for the many rants contained in his head, ready to rocket off at a moment's call upon.
And yet, in spite of all the intelligence guarded behind the skeptic's mind and drunken image, when he pulled at the twine he was left staring blankly at the carcass of a bird, wings folded and motionless. With all the matted fluff of its feathers it looked to be little more than sleeping, though he could call to mind the truth of its still form, and the cause of its demise.
Liberty. What a bold, clever huntress she must have become, to have caught herself such tricky prey. And yet, why would E feel the need to share this with him, and in such an unusual way? It made R rub at his face with heavy-handed sleep weighing down on his mind. He needed something to quench his thirst before he dealt with matters at hand, and leaving the bird resting inappropriately on his small table, he got up to make a pot of coffee, shifting an empty bottle of wine out of the way as he reached for the chipped mug behind it.
He needed to plan his revenge, and checking the time on his clock, he set a plan in motion in his head. Confusing as the gesture was, R was proud of Liberty, and thinking a little too long and hard about the details. E had been here sometime earlier in the morning. Had deigned it necessary to wrap up the dead bird like the gift Liberty likely preciously left it for him and deposit it in front of his door as a gift. One that confused R more than anything else. Was it meant to bother him? To amuse him? Had Enjolras been replaced by a trickster in the night, or swapped souls with the kitten now residing in his flat? The ideas grew more outlandish by the moment, a clear sign of his commitment to remaining in a drowsy, senseless state.
Perhaps it meant nothing at all. E was bored, or annoyed, or amused. It could be any number of reasons and any number of reactions he expected from Grantaire and he could guess at them into the late evening hours and be no closer to the truth.
What it did achieve was a curious Grantaire deciding that clearly, the necessary course of action would be to make Liberty even more of a disruptive terror on Enjolras' life. Clearly she was doing good, if her interactions were cause enough to warrant a personal visit from Apollo himself.
So, pocketing the bag of catnip he had bought when he first brought Princess to Enjolras' flat, he grabbed his keys and a jacket and left both bird and coffee forgotten.
If he left now, he could beat Enjolras to his flat and repay the favor.
Enjolras had fallen asleep the night prior the same way he had most night's as of late- with Liberty curled in the crook of his neck, purring in his ear as she lounged on her small, fluffy red blanket. She deigned to allow him to share it just enough so that he wasn't cocking his neck to any weird angles, and he supposed she probably didn't mind it so much when he turned his head to nose at her fur affectionately, drifting off to sleep with as much of a smile as he ever had.
What was very different was how he'd woken up.
It had been before his alarms had gone off, of that he was certain. Liberty had since vacated her place near his head, which also was not unusual. He had an odd, disoriented feeling- felt as though there was something wrong, but couldn't yet place what. He'd closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep when he registered that Liberty had jumped onto the bed. It seemed as though she had dropped something, and then began a series of loud, plaintive mewling as she stalked backwards and forwards over the covers, walking all over him for the sake of garnering his attention. With a groan of complaint, he'd ignored it. The sun was barely up, after all. His alarm wouldn't go for another half an hour at least, and he had stayed up quite late getting in a bit of last minute studying. Surely whatever it was Liberty wanted could wait.
She, apparently, had decided otherwise. She slunk right up the bedspread to him, placing herself on her red blanket and meowing directly at his face, pacing around his head, her cold, damp nose finding his forehead. With a groan, he'd given in and shifted to run his hand over her flank, fingers clumsy with sleep. But he gave in, and shifted to sit up, assuming she wanted to be fed, or she'd knocked her toy somewhere again, or-
Or she had delivered unto him a dead bird. Directly onto his bed spread, and right in his lap.
"Well," he'd murmured, regarding the corpse with a slight frown, as Liberty moved to circle it, meowing at him all the while and God above- looking smug. He'd chuckled despite himself, slightly disbelieving what he was seeing. How on earth had she even managed to get it into the flat? As far as he knew, there was no way for her to get outside. True, he'd left one of the kitchen windows cracked open slightly, but this didn't explain how she'd managed to lure the bird inside.
He decided that the only one who would ever know how Liberty had managed to catch the bird, was Liberty.
There was no going back to sleep now, he knew. So with a sigh, he'd pet Liberty in thanks. He had read about this sort of thing, how cats would deliver dead animals as a gift, and so he found it impossible to be mad at her for it- even if delivering it right to his bedding was a little bit much. The next matter at hand was... Well, what to do with the thing. The obvious answer was just to have thrown it out, but somehow Enjolras felt as though this was a gross breach of trust for the gift Liberty had put so much effort into bestowing upon him. At the very least, he decided he ought to bury it. Give it some sort of proper resting place.
Settled with this in mind, he had gingerly lifted it from the bed (noting in the back of his mind that Joly would have been having fits over all of the diseases it might have been carrying, and he really ought to have gotten paper towel or a plastic bag or something instead of touching it with his bare hands--!) and swung his legs over the edge to locate himself a small enough box.
It was somewhere between this, and coming back to find Liberty curled up where the bird's corpse had been purring self-satisfied over his duvet that another idea had blossomed in Enjolras' mind.
It made perfect sense to him. The idea slot itself into place, took hold, and refused to let go. So Enjolras had very carefully finished placing the bird into it's little box, carefully padding around it so that it wouldn't be disturbed too much in the journey that was to follow. He'd finished off the box by tying it shut with some string, and a little notecard that simply said 'Grantaire'.
He had wanted to deliver the parcel in person. As soon as his hands were well washed, he'd dressed for his morning jog, the parcel in hand as he detoured from his usual route. He'd wanted to give it to Grantaire- to explain. Because otherwise, wasn't it a bit weird? Probably, but Grantaire would get it, wouldn't he?
Still, no matter how many times he'd rung the other's doorbell, or knocked upon the door the owner of said living quarters had either resolutely ignored him, or not been home at all. He'd had no other choice. He'd set the package down upon the other's stoop, and made the run back home, leaving himself barely enough time to shower and change before he was due at his first classes that morning. His blanket was shoved in the pile of things to be washed, something else that would have to wait until he'd finished classes.
All day, he'd found himself distracted, wondering if Grantaire had found the box yet. He couldn't exactly call it a present, even if in a warped way it was. But it really wasn't the sort of present you just gave someone- and part way through the day Enjolras had very much begun to doubt whether or not Grantaire would understand why he'd done what he had. He considered sending Grantaire a text about it, but had talked himself out of it, thought better of it. Maybe Grantaire wouldn't even know who it was from. After all, Enjolras had not signed his name, nor left any other mark upon the plain, brown box that would have annotated who the 'gift' had come from.
He was mulling over it still when finally he began the trek back to his apartment, waving Courfeyrac off as the other invited him for drinks. Friday or no, Enjolras politely explained that he had far better things to do than watch Courfeyrac attempt to pick up every woman who even so much as smiled in his vague direction.
(Courfeyrac insisted that sometimes, they were smiling at him, and not simply in Courfeyrac's general direction- Enjolras' response was only ever to scowl.)
He supposed, that if Grantaire truly did not understand Enjolras' meaning by leaving him the bird, he would explain at the next meeting. It was the next time he expected to see the other man, and by then perhaps Grantaire would have either forgotten about it, or figured it out. Enjolras wasn't sure which answer he was more hopeful for.
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» Gʀᴀɴᴛᴀɪʀᴇ
» GDI E
What sort of daydream was this, that had him imagining Enjolras deigning to leave him a gift, and so cryptically at that. Was he trying to stimulate Grantaire's mind? It was more than stimulated enough for the many rants contained in his head, ready to rocket off at a moment's call upon.
And yet, in spite of all the intelligence guarded behind the skeptic's mind and drunken image, when he pulled at the twine he was left staring blankly at the carcass of a bird, wings folded and motionless. With all the matted fluff of its feathers it looked to be little more than sleeping, though he could call to mind the truth of its still form, and the cause of its demise.
Liberty. What a bold, clever huntress she must have become, to have caught herself such tricky prey. And yet, why would E feel the need to share this with him, and in such an unusual way? It made R rub at his face with heavy-handed sleep weighing down on his mind. He needed something to quench his thirst before he dealt with matters at hand, and leaving the bird resting inappropriately on his small table, he got up to make a pot of coffee, shifting an empty bottle of wine out of the way as he reached for the chipped mug behind it.
He needed to plan his revenge, and checking the time on his clock, he set a plan in motion in his head. Confusing as the gesture was, R was proud of Liberty, and thinking a little too long and hard about the details. E had been here sometime earlier in the morning. Had deigned it necessary to wrap up the dead bird like the gift Liberty likely preciously left it for him and deposit it in front of his door as a gift. One that confused R more than anything else. Was it meant to bother him? To amuse him? Had Enjolras been replaced by a trickster in the night, or swapped souls with the kitten now residing in his flat? The ideas grew more outlandish by the moment, a clear sign of his commitment to remaining in a drowsy, senseless state.
Perhaps it meant nothing at all. E was bored, or annoyed, or amused. It could be any number of reasons and any number of reactions he expected from Grantaire and he could guess at them into the late evening hours and be no closer to the truth.
What it did achieve was a curious Grantaire deciding that clearly, the necessary course of action would be to make Liberty even more of a disruptive terror on Enjolras' life. Clearly she was doing good, if her interactions were cause enough to warrant a personal visit from Apollo himself.
So, pocketing the bag of catnip he had bought when he first brought Princess to Enjolras' flat, he grabbed his keys and a jacket and left both bird and coffee forgotten.
If he left now, he could beat Enjolras to his flat and repay the favor.
no subject
What was very different was how he'd woken up.
It had been before his alarms had gone off, of that he was certain. Liberty had since vacated her place near his head, which also was not unusual. He had an odd, disoriented feeling- felt as though there was something wrong, but couldn't yet place what. He'd closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep when he registered that Liberty had jumped onto the bed. It seemed as though she had dropped something, and then began a series of loud, plaintive mewling as she stalked backwards and forwards over the covers, walking all over him for the sake of garnering his attention. With a groan of complaint, he'd ignored it. The sun was barely up, after all. His alarm wouldn't go for another half an hour at least, and he had stayed up quite late getting in a bit of last minute studying. Surely whatever it was Liberty wanted could wait.
She, apparently, had decided otherwise. She slunk right up the bedspread to him, placing herself on her red blanket and meowing directly at his face, pacing around his head, her cold, damp nose finding his forehead. With a groan, he'd given in and shifted to run his hand over her flank, fingers clumsy with sleep. But he gave in, and shifted to sit up, assuming she wanted to be fed, or she'd knocked her toy somewhere again, or-
Or she had delivered unto him a dead bird. Directly onto his bed spread, and right in his lap.
"Well," he'd murmured, regarding the corpse with a slight frown, as Liberty moved to circle it, meowing at him all the while and God above- looking smug. He'd chuckled despite himself, slightly disbelieving what he was seeing. How on earth had she even managed to get it into the flat? As far as he knew, there was no way for her to get outside. True, he'd left one of the kitchen windows cracked open slightly, but this didn't explain how she'd managed to lure the bird inside.
He decided that the only one who would ever know how Liberty had managed to catch the bird, was Liberty.
There was no going back to sleep now, he knew. So with a sigh, he'd pet Liberty in thanks. He had read about this sort of thing, how cats would deliver dead animals as a gift, and so he found it impossible to be mad at her for it- even if delivering it right to his bedding was a little bit much. The next matter at hand was... Well, what to do with the thing. The obvious answer was just to have thrown it out, but somehow Enjolras felt as though this was a gross breach of trust for the gift Liberty had put so much effort into bestowing upon him. At the very least, he decided he ought to bury it. Give it some sort of proper resting place.
Settled with this in mind, he had gingerly lifted it from the bed (noting in the back of his mind that Joly would have been having fits over all of the diseases it might have been carrying, and he really ought to have gotten paper towel or a plastic bag or something instead of touching it with his bare hands--!) and swung his legs over the edge to locate himself a small enough box.
It was somewhere between this, and coming back to find Liberty curled up where the bird's corpse had been purring self-satisfied over his duvet that another idea had blossomed in Enjolras' mind.
It made perfect sense to him. The idea slot itself into place, took hold, and refused to let go. So Enjolras had very carefully finished placing the bird into it's little box, carefully padding around it so that it wouldn't be disturbed too much in the journey that was to follow. He'd finished off the box by tying it shut with some string, and a little notecard that simply said 'Grantaire'.
He had wanted to deliver the parcel in person. As soon as his hands were well washed, he'd dressed for his morning jog, the parcel in hand as he detoured from his usual route. He'd wanted to give it to Grantaire- to explain. Because otherwise, wasn't it a bit weird? Probably, but Grantaire would get it, wouldn't he?
Still, no matter how many times he'd rung the other's doorbell, or knocked upon the door the owner of said living quarters had either resolutely ignored him, or not been home at all. He'd had no other choice. He'd set the package down upon the other's stoop, and made the run back home, leaving himself barely enough time to shower and change before he was due at his first classes that morning. His blanket was shoved in the pile of things to be washed, something else that would have to wait until he'd finished classes.
All day, he'd found himself distracted, wondering if Grantaire had found the box yet. He couldn't exactly call it a present, even if in a warped way it was. But it really wasn't the sort of present you just gave someone- and part way through the day Enjolras had very much begun to doubt whether or not Grantaire would understand why he'd done what he had. He considered sending Grantaire a text about it, but had talked himself out of it, thought better of it. Maybe Grantaire wouldn't even know who it was from. After all, Enjolras had not signed his name, nor left any other mark upon the plain, brown box that would have annotated who the 'gift' had come from.
He was mulling over it still when finally he began the trek back to his apartment, waving Courfeyrac off as the other invited him for drinks. Friday or no, Enjolras politely explained that he had far better things to do than watch Courfeyrac attempt to pick up every woman who even so much as smiled in his vague direction.
(Courfeyrac insisted that sometimes, they were smiling at him, and not simply in Courfeyrac's general direction- Enjolras' response was only ever to scowl.)
He supposed, that if Grantaire truly did not understand Enjolras' meaning by leaving him the bird, he would explain at the next meeting. It was the next time he expected to see the other man, and by then perhaps Grantaire would have either forgotten about it, or figured it out. Enjolras wasn't sure which answer he was more hopeful for.