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]

"That's not... All right. For the sake of argument, say I had been a firm believer in their cause. That I went in lockstep with them at every turn and had that fire that burns so bright in Enjolras. It wouldn't have changed anything. You could argue it would have gone worse. They would have had another fighter, who would have been using ammunition that was already not exactly in the greatest of supply. They would have run out of it even faster than they did, the barricade would have been taken even quicker, and to a man, we would have died even earlier than we did. Oh, what glory that would have been to witness."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji listens, externally placid. Beside him, the punching bag has lost the last of its residual momentum from his efforts and come to stillness. "I wasn't asking whether believing in Enjolras brought you to belief in every particular of his cause. Only whether it brought you to convictions of your own."

[futaille]

"Not any important ones, certainly. What sort of self-respecting skeptic would I be if I grew convictions?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji doubts very much that Grantaire is self-respecting at all. He doesn't care to be quite that cutting, however. He looks Grantaire over, seeing for perhaps the first time just how careful his carelessness is and how diligently he strives to convince not only others, but also himself that he is a being of pure frivolity, without substance. "Mn," he says, with no particular inflection.

[futaille]

He intuits that that was not exactly agreement, and quite possibly nowhere near it, but he's perfectly willing to pretend. "Precisely. Therefore, I am well-versed in any number of pastimes and thus a pleasure to be around."

[lightbearinglord]

"Do pastimes come at the expense of conviction?"

[futaille]

"I suppose it depends on how one defines a conviction. It could practically be classed as a particularly strong opinion, of which I have several, many in fact related to those pastimes, but on the other hand, how much of a conviction is it when one is perfectly willing to be proven wrong on them?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji puts a little effort into controlling his expression, then. Grantaire has begun, almost without warning, to strike him with a sort of subdued but profound sadness. "Not much at all."

[futaille]

"Precisely. I don't know that I have a temperament suited for much in the way of stone certainty. Dancing on the ever-shifting sands of possibility, on the other hand..."

[lightbearinglord]

Again, Lan Wangji keeps his face smooth and unrevealing, which is a simple feat for him. It couldn't be more obvious that expressing any of his sudden swell of concern would go poorly, and that Grantaire would use those same sands of possibility to dance away from his worry. "You have perfected that art," he finishes.

[futaille]

"I wouldn't say perfected. As with anything, it's a work in progress."

[lightbearinglord]

Of course; perfected was too definitive a word for Grantaire. "As are most arts."

[futaille]

"I can't argue too much with that... And thankfully. Perfection must be incredibly dull."

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn." Lan Wangji can agree with that much, softer again now and with some relief for it. "And impossible."

[futaille]

"Also true. Which is fortunate, I suppose, if the flaws make things interesting, the impossibility of perfection keeps us all from wasting away in tedium. Although that does raise an interesting point, as wouldn't that dullness make perfection itself imperfect?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Another facet of its impossibility," Lan Wangji suggests, content for now to give Grantaire occasional fodder with which to spin his web of words.

[futaille]

"It makes one wonder if perfection is thus by its very nature imperfect, if there's perfection in imperfection, in a way, or if that just makes another version of a liar's paradox."

[lightbearinglord]

"Liar's paradox?" he dutifully prompts Grantaire.

[futaille]

He grins. "This sentence is a lie."

[lightbearinglord]

Sensing his role, that he must play along, Lan Wangji considers this assertion. The trouble becomes obvious instantly. He gives Grantaire a wry little look. "I see."

[futaille]

"I know, it's really just a bit of rhetorical silliness, but I am probably the last person ever to speak against being silly."

[lightbearinglord]

"Silliness is not a skill of mine," Lan Wangji says, appropriately solemn about the admission, "but I have begun to attempt it more often of late."

[futaille]

"Everyone has natural strengths and weaknesses, which is fine. It's impressive that you're actually working on that one, though. People who lack it often seem to neglect it."

[lightbearinglord]

He lets out a breath, soft and almost amused. Grantaire has done nothing to escape the swift onset of his concern, but there is little to be done for that now. He could tell Grantaire how he grew up serious in all things, how every day was the same, how he only barely knows how to attain playfulness without alcohol to knock his control from his grasp. He doesn't, though -- he nods, and then he dips into a bow. "Thank you for the lesson."

[futaille]

He nods, waving a hand. "Of course. It was no trouble."