Open Post: Who invented this calendar anyway?

[futaille]

How unfortunate.

Yes, Grantaire was fully aware that the year being longer at the mansion would logically cause seasons to drift when someone kept track of the old calendar, or at least what had been pinned down as the old calendar for convenience sake, which was almost necessary when people's arrivals weren't necessarily tied to the day they left. He hadn't given it too much thought last year, when his birthday, such that it was, arrived in spring like he was used to.

Dark, though, was unfortunate. Not inappropriate for the next notable anniversary coming up, but for this one, not at all. Of course, it wasn't as if he would have been planning much in the way of an event, Dark or no, but it would have been nice to treat himself to something or other, regardless.

Instead, he has installed himself in the game room, where he is carefully balancing dominoes on their ends to make a domino rally on the billiards table. It's a nice large flat surface, so it should work nicely. Have to keep entertained somehow.

Comments

[sagramore]

"Only a year? Art thou serious?"

[futaille]

"Close to it, I think."

[sagramore]

"Time is obscene."

[futaille]

"That sounds right, yes."

[sagramore]

"I don't like it! It shouldn't pass like this."

[futaille]

"It passes every other way it wants, whether we like it or not. Time's strange. Always has been."

[sagramore]

"Well, I think you should give it a stern talking-to."

[futaille]

"Ah, let me see. Time, you need to do better, you cannot be trusted. You're a thief and you need improvement!"

[sagramore]

"Go on. Really dress it down!"

[futaille]

He continues. "You're unreliable, you're either vanishing with no warning or staying around for far too long unwanted, you're disruptive, you're not remotely to be trusted."

[sagramore]

"That's exactly right!"

[futaille]

"That did sound somewhat familiar, if I'm being honest."

[sagramore]

"Wait, why?"

[futaille]

He shrugs. "Time seems to display a lot of the same qualities I've heard about extensively."

[sagramore]

"Etienne," shortly, as he frowns. "I can see I've done a poor thing of training you."

[futaille]

"No, not at all! I'm talking about before, not here. It just struck me, is all, and then you asked."

[sagramore]

Sagramore swallows down his sudden surge of anger at Enjolras and all Grantaire's other horrid supposed friends, and nods instead. "And thou knowst better to speak such things of thyself."

[futaille]

Grantaire nods back. He knows he's less annoying than he used to be. "Yes. My tongue can remain unbitten."

[sagramore]

"Good pup. I'm pleased with thee."

[futaille]

At that, he gives a sheepish little shrug. "Thanks."

[sagramore]

Well, then, now they're back to... waiting. Cursed. Sagramore stares reproachfully at the oven.

[futaille]

Grantaire leans against the counter and sighs. "Surely a half an hour can't be this long."

[sagramore]

"I really don't understand it," plaintively.

[futaille]

"Surely nobody does."

[sagramore]

"Wouldst think with all this magic we'd have invented faster means by now."