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.

Comments

[futaille]

"Your wisdom is unmatched."

[sagramore]

"Right. I'll get matches."

[futaille]

"Excellent. I shall convey the artwork to the lakeside."

[sagramore]

"Marvelous."

When he rejoins Grantaire it's with the box of matches and a bottle of vodka -- he doesn't wholly trust the splattered durian to burn on its own.

[futaille]

Grantaire grins, in the process of setting the painting down on a rock. "Oh, excellently planned."

[sagramore]

"I didn't want to risk the conflagration. We can put the ashes in with whatever's left of the liquor and make a paint."

[futaille]

"The greatest of all paints, indeed."

[sagramore]

"Truly! Wouldst thou do the honors?" handing him the bottle.

[futaille]

"Of course!" He takes the bottle and opens it, taking a long swig before pouring a good amount of the vodka over the painting.

[sagramore]

"Oh, a little more, I think I see a dry speck."

[futaille]

"As you wish!" He pours a bit more over for maximum flammability.

[sagramore]

"Perfect." Sagramore takes the box of matches and strikes one. Then, holding it aloft, he hums in a sort of pseudo-mystic drone and drops the lit match onto the canvas.

[futaille]

The canvas, aided by the vodka, catches on fire immediately. Grantaire watches with a crooked grin. "The flame is another gift to the durian god."

[sagramore]

"Of course! It's an offering." A beat. "We should say a prayer."

[futaille]

"Of course we should." He promptly drops to his knees. "Oh, great durian god, hear our plea. We offer you this sacrifice to your glory as token of our devotion."

[sagramore]

Sagramore sinks into a prayerful aspect beside him, folding his hands, and realizes as he does so that it's the first time he's felt willing to play games about the idea of religion. For so long he's felt such an instinctive revulsion towards anything to do with priests or the church, but with Grantaire it really doesn't bother him. Nothing's going to happen to him. It's fine to be ridiculous.

"Our devotion," he echoes, as the smell of vodka and burning canvas wafts up from the pyre.

[futaille]

"We solemnly swear to use the ashes as you intended from the outset."

[sagramore]

"From the outset," in a drone.

[futaille]

"May you continue to watch over us as we go along in your service. Adurian."

[sagramore]

"Adurian."

[futaille]

Grantaire nods, satisfied, and climbs back to his feet to watch the canvas burn.

[sagramore]

"I really enjoy our adventures together," Sagramore remarks.

[futaille]

He laughs. "We are a bold pair indeed."

[sagramore]

"Oh, we dare some truly shocking things."

[futaille]

"I don't know that many people who know us would actually be all that shocked."