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]

"Oh, it's a great deal of Latin."

[sagramore]

"Any of it meaningful?"

[futaille]

"That depends on how you define meaningful, I suppose. They are words, so in that respect, they have meaning, in that they're not just speaking gibberish."

[sagramore]

"Very meaningful," he agrees solemnly. "Very well, what's stuck with you?"

[futaille]

"What, from Mass?"

[sagramore]

"Right," with a laugh. "I'm trying to sift it for usefulness."

[futaille]

"Usefulness in Mass. Oh, good luck. How about this? 'Quod ore sumpsimus, Domine, pura mente capiamus.'" He grins. "What we have taken with our mouth, Lord, let us take with a pure mind."

[sagramore]

Sagramore sighs heavily. "That's not going to work. When did we ever have a pure mind?"

[futaille]

"Purely something, I'm sure."

[sagramore]

"Purely idiots."

[futaille]

"Absolutely! Pure fools, with all our hearts."

[sagramore]

"It does look well on thee, at least."

[futaille]

"And a good thing, at that, or I would be generally hideous."

[sagramore]

He resists to urge to kiss Grantaire, and says instead, helpfully, "Thou'rt about to hit the door."

[futaille]

He looks startled and spins just in time to not fall backwards up the front steps. "That was close. Thank you."

[sagramore]

"Oh, I couldn't do less for the honored and esteemed artist who's about to allow me to leave my mark on hallowed ground."

[futaille]

"Of course. Speaking of which, I think we should paint with our fingers. It's more ceremonial that way."

[sagramore]

"I will accept your knowledgeable counsel, even though I deeply don't want to touch it."

[futaille]

"I promise we will ritually wash our hands later."

[sagramore]

"All right, if you promise."

[futaille]

"I swear it upon the charred remains of the sacred durian."

[sagramore]

"Very well. I'm ready."

[futaille]

He nods. In the absence of a palette, he promptly pours some of the goop into his free palm, his nose wrinkling a bit as he does so, before he sets the bottle down, dipping his fingertip into it, and experimentally drawing a line on the door.

[sagramore]

Sagramore sighs, but he dips his own fingers into the goop and begins painting vaguely flame-shaped lines on the door.

[futaille]

Grantaire promptly turns his first line into a flame of its own, continuing on into drawing more.