Open Post: La savate et le chausson

[futaille]

Much to his satisfaction, Grantaire has been able to keep up with many of his hobbies unabated during his time at the mansion. Not all of them, though, mostly because they were ones he'd go to specific spots for, and with those spots not being here in addition to an abundance of his other hobbies, they more or less fell by the wayside.

However, a recent chat with Dionysus has reminded him that he has very much neglected his 'hitting things' level. Although he didn't find a crash test dummy, the thought being on his mind ended up in him stumbling upon a small gym tucked away, complete with some equipment including a standing punching bag.

So he's discarded his waistcoat and cravat over a bench and is practicing his savate¹.

¹French kickboxing! During R's time it was basically for streetfighting, and just beginning to get formalized, but there are some cool vintage videos on youtube (Here and here) to give the... vibe.

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[futaille]

He holds up the glasses he poured not long previously. "But of course."

[sagramore]

"Marvelous." He takes his own and toasts the durian on its pillow-altar.

[futaille]

He toasts the durian as well. "May the deity smile upon my meager efforts."

[sagramore]

"May the deity bless thee with its words." He drinks.

[futaille]

He nods emphatically and drinks as well.

[sagramore]

Once the glass is emptied, Sagramore sits down beside the candle and fans it very gently, wafting the scent towards Grantaire.

[futaille]

He finishes his own glass and sets it down, sitting at the head of the bed and propping himself up with the pillow. He closes his eyes and takes in the scent of the candle.

[sagramore]

"We should have had music," Sagramore murmurs, but after that he falls silent, letting Grantaire receive his messages from the durian.

[futaille]

He takes in the scent of the Yankee candle and thinks durian thoughts.

"All I'm envisioning is glory. One can't tarnish the soul of a deity through a mere earthly shell, as the deity is transcendent. The result of the art is worth the process."

[sagramore]

"Oh, so thou canst hurl its sacredness from the third floor window."

[futaille]

He opens his eyes and grins. "Absolutely. As long as the space below is clear of passers-by."

[sagramore]

"Are there any other messages?"

[futaille]

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath of apple pie candle. "When complete, the distillation will be worth every second it took to get there."

[sagramore]

"Oh, that's a relief. It's been a lot of seconds."

[futaille]

"Oh yes, so many seconds."

[sagramore]

"Since before Dark!"

[futaille]

"Has it been that long?"

[sagramore]

"Yes, because that's when we found the sacred object."

[futaille]

"It does not feel like that long at all."

[sagramore]

"Time!" waving his hands dramatically. "It keeps passing!"

[futaille]

"That seems unfair."

[sagramore]

"It does. Let's get a canvas and throw our god out the window."

[futaille]

"Excellent." He gets off of the bed and goes looking for a good-sized spare canvas. "I think it should be conveyed on the pillow."

[sagramore]

"I would be honored to bear the holy corpse forth."

[futaille]

"Then I bestow upon you this sacred duty."