charondaucourt-blog

[charondaucourt-blog]

Charon, how do you feel about the poor conditions the people of France endure daily?

“It’s not my fault, and it’s not my responsibility. Of course, I’m terribly sad about it,” he gripes, defensive, “but I think you should be bothering the people who could actually do anything about it, not me." 

[charondaucourt-blog]

I have no excuse

[charondaucourt-blog]

Fernand, I’m takin’ your sister under my protection here. If anything happens to her, anything at all, I swear to you, I will get very choked up. Honestly, there could be tears.

Charon

[charondaucourt-blog]

Charon, how do you feel about the poor conditions the people of France endure daily?

"It's not my fault, and it's not my responsibility. Of course, I'm terribly sad about it," he gripes, defensive, "but I think you should be bothering the people who could actually do anything about it, not me." 

[charondaucourt-blog]

More money or more friends?

“Well, money lets me buy clothes, so...”

[charondaucourt-blog]

cptdubois:

“Don’t worry about that, it’s just from the markets. Dispose of it or keep it.” Herbert responded in the same airily fashion, standing by the younger man with little intention to further their acquaintance as he watched the crowd disperse around them. Out of common courtesy and respect, he didn’t walk away directly. In a way, he also meddled with the other’s business, though out of kind intentions, he would at least see to it that he finds himself back to his recreation. 

“Well, yes, that’s part of the intention of my inquiry.” He explained readily, not putting much thought into his words though his expressions remained still and receptive. Judging by the clean attire and features of the young man, he didn’t seem like someone who lived in deep struggle. At the same time, Herbert found it impossible to piece together where the man might be from, he certainly didn’t seem to fit in. 

“So long as you can handle yourself, however, I shall leave you to your own endeavours.” He naturally extended his arm to the other’s shoulder and gave it an easy pat of acknowledgement before he began to walk past him. 

He turned back towards the man, nodding at him politely. “Though if anyone wants trouble from you again, I’m just right there.” As he has yet to be occupied, and wouldn’t mind fitting in with the rest of the crowd, he effortlessly added.

“Feel welcomed to join me in the meantime, if you wish.”

“What was the other part?” he questions, eyes amost glittering. 

“I can definitely handle myself.” With a kind of flourish, he pockets the handkerchief – who is he to turn down a gift? – and glances around. People are pretending to pay them no mind, but he can feel eyes on him. He doesn’t blame them – in their position, he would do the same. Try to scope out the stranger speaking to the Dauphin’s golden child. He can’t get much from him, there’s something almost immaterial about him.

He accepts the pat with a kind of amusement and a whimsical smile. “I’d love to join you,” he answers after a brief moment of thought. He isn’t in the mood for gambling anymore, he would rather get to know this person. 

“Pierre, darling, get us a couple of ciders,” he says to the harassed-looking barkeep, who nods and serves them. “So what shall I call you, stranger?”

[charondaucourt-blog]

If you could get your mother back at the cost of everything you have built for yourself, would you do it?

“And go back to the gutter?” He scoffs. “It was rough at the time, but her death showed me the way the world works. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d be no better than the rest of them. And pardon my French, but fuck that.”

[charondaucourt-blog]

Ask Charon and I anything for free-post Friday! 

[charondaucourt-blog]

And honey, you should see me in a crown.

Charon (via cswordsincorrect)

[charondaucourt-blog]

Charon: People perceive you as somewhat…

Simone: Tempestuous?

Charon: “Heinous bitch” is the term used most often.

[charondaucourt-blog]

redeminence:

Armaud nods once and digests the information given to him. Surely in the Court of Miracles there are a more than a dozen men just as sharp and cutting in intelligence as Armaud, and undoubtedly many times that number are the amount of men who must be more menacing than him. The boy must be impressionable if the glamour of a large house and a reputation is enough to let him lose his nerve. But however impressionable or young Charon may seem, Armaud cannot forget Charon is ultimately a survivor in the Court of Miracles, and one of its most most powerful figures at that. Fortunately for Armaud, Charon has been upfront about his business, recognizing the time for veracity is now.

With a tilt his head, Armaud levels a quizzical look at Charon as he asks, “Could you explain to me how you use information as a bartering chip? In a business such as yours, as dangerous as it is, it must be difficult to prevent people from running off with your hard earned money, but it seems to me a little counterproductive to let people off with only something as abstract as information in return. What do you do with it? And,” here he pauses and gives Charon’s figure a quick once-over, “if you don’t mind me saying, Monsieur Daucourt, I am surprised someone like you cuts so dangerous a figure in the Court of Miracles. You seem rather… petite.” Petite, perhaps, is not the word Armaud would have wanted to use in this situation, for Charon is neither particularly small or short, but is was no other word he could muster up from his mind with which he could replace it. Petite is what Charon seemed.

The fact that the Cardinal doesn’t seem to understand his business model causes a combination of surprise, pride and excitement in his belly. He sit up slightly straighter, preparing himself to articulate the ins and outs of the organisation he’s spent the last decade creating himself. But then he hesitates a little – he doesn’t trust the Cardinal, how is he supposed to know that the old man won’t use this information for his own gain? He decides to censor himself somewhat. If His Eminence is truly as intelligent as the rumours say (and the rumours say that he is one of the most brilliant minds in Paris), he’ll be able to put the pieces together.

“Information is the most important chip of all. If somebody gives you their most important secret, you now have the opportunity to ruin them.” He tries not to sound too full of himself, and he almost manages it. “If they don’t pay you back, they’ll lose everything. Of course, you need people to fact-check, which can get a little hairy, sometimes, but that’s what my informants are for. I used to do all the legwork myself, but I don’t have to do that anymore.” At this, he has to suppress a smile.

The Cardinal’s words make it more difficult, and in the end he allows himself a simper as he replies, “I don’t mind your saying at all, Your Eminence.” This aura of slightly studied femininity is not incidental. Whilst it comes naturally to him, he has never fought to dampen it as so many boys like him have done. It makes people underestimate him, and he really does love to be underestimated. “Just so long as you don’t see it as an issue.” This is said with an almost (almost) challenging eyebrow raise.

[charondaucourt-blog]

chasseuseartisane:

Marie had missed several market days lately, and it’d been enough to make her feel guilty. With her work on the Queen’s dresses and all the other commissioned pieces she had and her usual repairs for regular customers, she’d found it hard to find the time to go to the market. Even today, she’d brought work with her. Usually, she spoke to the merchants around her, finding easy conversation with them, but today, she was finishing off a dress, focusing on small, neat stitches between customers.

She saw the man walk up to her stall but only gives him a quick smile, busy helping the other person. Once they leave, she turned her attention to him properly, surprised at how different he looked compared to most people in Paris. However, she wasn’t one to be bothered by that; she didn’t know anything about her biological parents, but at least one of them had to have been descended from a slave, she guessed.

“Bonjour, monsieur.” She curtsied briefly, treating him with exactly the same respect she did all potential customers, before looking down at the red dress. It’d been a fun dress to create, but she’d used up most of the fabric. All she had left wouldn’t be enough for a waistcoat – it probably wouldn’t be enough to make much but Marie didn’t throw out fabric. If she knew she couldn’t make anything she could sell, she used it to make piecemeal quilts to keep her home warm. “I don’t, at the moment, but I can always speak to the merchant and see if he has any more. I do have others similar to it, in case I can’t get more?” She picked up a little basket she kept of scrap fabric with all the types of fabric she had at home and offered it to him.

He looks at the woman with some degree of interest, but there’s a subtlety to his gaze that makes it imperceptible that she’s being studied. It’s something he developed in gambling rings, a way of vetting people without their knowledge. The curtsy surprises him, though he doesn’t show it – he looks relatively affluent, but not enough to warrant that behaviour. Clearly, there’s something about him that ingratiates him to her. The thought makes him preen a little.

But his smugness is short-lived as he hears the bad news, and he finds himself frowning slightly as he paws gently through the other fabrics and clothes. Many others are equally as beautiful, but he doesn’t fall in love with any as he did with that one.  

“No,” he murmurs at the suggestion of speaking to the merchant, “that won’t do.” When offered the basket of scraps, he picks through it, half looking for more beautiful fabrics like a magpie, half trying to discern all he can about her. She seems far too nice a girl to be mixed up with Simone Baptiste. Maybe a mistake was made somewhere. There again, you never really know anything about anybody, especially after a few seconds of interaction. Then he finds a rare, deep blue that catches his eye, and his analysis briefly ceases.

“What about this?” he asks, holding up the square of fraying blue. It has green threads in it, he can see them, but they’re subtle. He instantly falls for it even more deeply than he had for the red. 

[charondaucourt-blog]

thombc:

This shop wasn’t the usual kind of tailor Thomas frequented – a little less fitting for nobles, a slightly lower level of clientele. And yet he’d noticed their designs sometime last year, original, the use of colours bold and intriguing. This tailor was one to watch, that was for certain. And Thomas liked to have unique things. Browsing through a book of sketches, quickly deciding ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to each new cut, his attention was drawn by the man standing in front of the mirror, a display of vanity to rival his own. He cast his eyes quickly over the figure, lip curling ever so slightly. “Terrible. That neckline with your shoulders? It’s wearing you, not vice versa.”

Whilst Charon processes, he stares at the man with some degree of bewilderment. He’s never, not in his life, been told that something didn’t suit him. He’s always had such a keen eye, people have always cooed appreciatively over his choices. Temper flares in him, and he has to dampen it quickly, telling himself well, you did ask.

“What would you suggest instead then?” he asks with some degree of scepticism, not yet trusting this stranger’s judgement.

[charondaucourt-blog]

[Without turning to man behind her, focusing on thief she has pinned by the neck]

Simone: Hello, Charon.

Charon: Simone! What a pleasant and utterly predictable surprise.

Simone: Why are you sending second-rate thieves to try and spy on me?

Thief: Hm?

Simone: [To the thief] If I'm not honest with you, you can't improve.

[charondaucourt-blog]

What do you think the Devil’s going to look like? […] Come on. No one’s going to be taken in by a guy with a long, red, pointy tail. Come on, what’s he going to sound like? (growls) No! I’m semi-serious here… No, he’ll be attractive, he’ll be nice and helpful. He’ll never do an evil thing. He’ll never deliberately hurt a living thing. He’ll just, bit by little bit, lower our standards where they’re important. Just a tiny little bit. Just coax along flash over substance. Just a tiny little bit.“

About Charon (via cswordsincorrect)

[charondaucourt-blog]

Simone : [to Cardinal's spy] You're dealing with all of us. All of the Court of Miracles.

Charon: Except me.

Simone: Except Charon.

Charon: I don't care what happens.

[charondaucourt-blog]

Charon never tires of preening, and of displaying. He’s one of the prettiest people he knows, and he is very aware of this. In a tailor’s shop, he tries on an emerald green doublet over his white shirt, and looks at himself in the polished mirror, looking at himself vainly from different angles. It suits him, and he knows it, but it’s pricey and he wonders how much he needs it.

There is one other person in the shop with him, and he clears his throat to catch their attention. “What do you think?” he asks brazenly, with an open, easy smile.