#rapport d’action du duc d'istrie

[rapports-de-combat]

Iɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟɪsᴇᴅ Cᴀᴛɢɪʀʟ Mɪsᴏɢʏɴʏ Wʜᴀᴛ Tʜᴇ Fᴜᴄᴋ Is Gᴏɪɴɢ Oɴ

previous ( 1, 2, 3 )

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"I assume no one has informed you of our current...peculiar predicaments?" —@perdicinae-observer

"You. Stupid. Connard. Your indulgence in self pity costed that poor kind soul Duroc his arms. You endangered half of the marshalate. What were you even thinking?! Were you even thinking you stupid useless piece of shit?" —@le-brave-des-braves

"DONT WHACK YOU WHACK FUCKING WHACK DARE WHACK HURT WHACK HIM WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK IWILLKILLYOU!" —@your-dandy-king

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As Ney slaps Bessières, what looks like smoke puffs out from where her hand makes contact. He staggers back, clutching his face, eyes wide, pizza boxes falling to the floor. His hand reaches under his cloak, but before he can respond- A tall beautiful Amazonian woman starts committing violence apparently on his behalf. Bessières takes one moment to take this in, before anger and chivalry force his hand. He pulls out his saber and raises it, intending to draw people's attention- but as he does so, his cloak flutters open, revealing that his body... He is dressed in the green and red uniform of the colonel of the Chasseurs à cheval de la Garde impériale, yes, but it seems he is in danger of evaporating with wisps of dark smoke and small red embers emanating from his body. What look like indistinct smokey words write themselves across his form, words of regret and intimacy and anxiety. And, around all of that, he appears to be held together by an unnaturally long golden chain wrapped around his torso, ending in a closed pocketwatch dangling over his heart.

Bessières: Stop this madness right now!

His eyes catch the light, and the usually polite and reserved man's voice is loud and animated with offense and disbelief. Though whether he can be heard over the fight is hard to say.

Bessières: I don't know what is going on but I do know that I can very well defend myself or seek my own satisfaction, Mada-

And then he suddenly is struck by an awful realisation. What is it that the quiet lady with the glasses said about being "fellow marshals" and "peculiar predicaments"? There is only one marshal who wears glasses.

Bessières: ... Davout?

... Ney? ... JOACHIM MURAT..?!

Petiet: What should we do..?! Brun: ... Normally I'd say we get the marshal but the Maréchale was rather insistent they do not be disturbed. Lameth: We either eat popcorn or we disappear, I say~ And I am feeling rather curious about what would happen if one of us read that strange magical letter! Saint-Chamans: Let's go look at the letter and leave the big hats to sort themselves out!

[rapports-de-combat]

Something Old, Something New

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The Prince and the Hunter (1, 2, 3, 4) Something Old, Something New (1)

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"Uncle Baptiste" lets out a light chuckle. He doesn't mind at all - well, he would prefer "Uncle JB", but perhaps it is a nice contrast to "Papa Jean". And then she reaches out, and he flares. His hair blows, sparks dance in his eyes, and the moment is over and he blinks before staring- at Helene, at "Papa Jean", at the surging wilderness that he recalls seeing when he came across the other Bessières in that realm apparently of Duroc's. That surge of nature... There are a few possibilities. The other Bessières stumbled on a child whose nature is like that of his own, or he had a hand in her creation somehow, or a dalliance with someone else. But with how she looks so strikingly like the fathers who look after her, if this Bessières was not so well composed, he would be raising an eyebrow. As it is, he continues smiling, especially as Eugène interacts with the young girl in his cheerful manner, and his smile might be a little wan as Eugène and the other Bessières discuss Murat. Eugène and Joachim had never quite gotten along. It had been rather awkward in life. To aid in changing the topic, Bessières nods. He is impressed and somewhat jealous of how... domestic a life this other Bessières has attained. But isn't that what this Bessières is fighting for? The reason why he hunts? Not so that he, himself, can retire - and he does not expect that he will get the chance to, or that even after this current mission is concluded, that he would - but so that others can have that possibility of something peaceful. And if one version of himself can have that, and if he can protect that... would that not be enough?

Bessières: Please, lead the way to the townhouse. It would be delightful to observe the fruits of your work. And I do look forward to strawberry cake.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

(( @your-dandy-king || @le-fils ))

[rapports-de-combat]

Iɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟɪsᴇᴅ Cᴀᴛɢɪʀʟ Mɪsᴏɢʏɴʏ Tʜɪs Is Rᴇᴀʟʟʏ Gᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ Oᴜᴛ Oғ Hᴀɴᴅ

previous ( 1, 2, 3, 4 )

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"I ... didn't mean to go that far. I didn't know that this would happen." —@your-dandy-king

"Are you...alright now?" —@perdicinae-observer

"Davout… Davout? What? Qu’est-ce que c’est ce merdier?! Why are you all women?!" —@le-brave-des-braves

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Instead of commenting on the situation, instead of addressing the confused Ney or the regretful Murat or Davout trying to calm the situation, Bessières turns to Soult's ADCs.

Bessières: I- I strongly advise that one of you fetch your marshal right now.

He points at Brun, who salutes and runs off. Turning back to the chaos, he opens his mouth to say something, but instead he coughs, splutters. Plumes of light grey smoke fall from his mouth, flecked with light orange cinders. He attempts to pull himself up straight, attempts to pretend that everything is fine. He needs to rest.

Bessières: Let us- *cough* - let us- sit down and- ex-

He can't get the rest of the words out as he is overtaken by a deep and painful coughing fit. If Murat will let him, he will, perhaps unconsciously, lean on her.

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(( @alexanderfanboy..? ))

[rapports-de-combat]

Something Old, Something New

@your-dandy-king || @le-fils

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The Prince and the Hunter (1, 2, 3, 4) Something Old, Something New (1, 2, 3)

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This Bessières also looked askance at the stained glass windows. He wonders how much control Murat has over this place; some worlds that he rode through were like the kingdom to a Fisher King, while others were more like prisons to those they hosted. He would think that Murat would know better than to usurp those windows for himself, even if those windows were... truly resplendent. More resplendent, even, than that world of "kaleidoscopes" that he travelled through. ... He also did wonder just how at fault Murat was, regarding the fate of his house. At the bottom of the stairs, with Eugène in front of him and Monsieur Bessières and his daughter behind, Bessières finds himself admitting that the collection that Murat has amassed is truly magnificent. This sentiment is shared by the adventurous aides-de-camp before him.

Saint-Chamans: We used to hit looters and pillagers with the flat part of the sabre for doing this, remember??

Brun: Marshal Murat literally has an open invitation for people to check this place out. I think. Or maybe I hallucinated that.

Bory: It does seem that strange and interesting things are attracted to Marshal Murat's realm - such as flesh eating plants and large armoured lizards!

Lameth: And us!

Yes, Bory is here too. There's a lot of bananas for this narrator to keep a track of, okay.

Coco Lefebvre: Come on where's the drugs and booze?!

Petiet: I found some..!

Saint-Chamans: Oh give that here-

A short woman with extremely curly and messy dark hair and feet of remarkable smallness turns around. As her gaze lands on Eugène and one Bessières, she freezes.

Saint-Chamans: Cousin- wait uh I mean Monsieur de Beauharnais?! What are you doing here?!

Coco Lefebvre: Oh merde it's the fuzz! Run!

Petiet: Buuuut I just found the good stuff..!

[rapports-de-combat]

Something Old, Something New?

@your-dandy-king || @le-fils

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The Prince and the Hunter (1, 2, 3, 4) Something Old, Something New (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

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Saint-Chamans: Hey! We're not idiots!

Lameth: We didn't set the fire~

Saint-Chamans: Yeah, Bessières set the fire- I think? Our Bessières, I mean! And- What happened there? And Lameth- your- your body?!

Lameth: Why don't you join me down here, Saint-Chamans?

Saint-Chamans: I don't want to lose my body too!

Bessières ignores the two idiots.

Bessières: Are you... sure that you trust me with such a thing? This is the third time I have set you aflame, my friend.

Instead, he walks over to the side of the cave and pulls a plant- some greenery, some twigs- from the cliffside- and then approaches the fainted Bessières in Eugène's arms. He looks... fine. Much, much better now, and much more normal. There is no smoke emanating from underneath his cloak, no faded words on his body, no glinting golden chain- at least it seems. He places the twigs on the ground and then, with much more control and precision, a small flame sparks from a miraculously and strangely clean glove.

Bessières: Back there... it was as if, when I touched him, he suddenly vented a great wind onto me...

Lameth: And then you two were full of hot air!

Bessières glares at Lameth, who doesn't look particularly repentant. At least Lameth didn't go for more lowbrow humour.

Bessières: I don't know what he- or what Hélène is. Or... what has happened to Lameth here.

Lameth: I am going swimmingly~

Saint-Chamans: Come out of the water, Lameeeeeeth!

Lameth: Not just yet~

Bessières: But what of you, Eugène? Are you alright? I'm glad you seem quite well... They used to say this font of water was the home of a goddess of fresh waters- healing waters. We didn't care about that when we swam here. We just came here to swim.

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[rapports-de-combat]

Something Old, Something New, Something on Fire

@your-dandy-king || @le-fils

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The Prince and the Hunter (1, 2, 3, 4) Something Old, Something New (1, 2, 3, 4)

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As it turns out, it's actually quite hard to burn a hardcover book. Brun, Petiet(.̢͘.?̴̢͟) and Saint-Chamans look a little charred and singed, but for the most part they're alright - Saint-Chamans even took the brunt of the blast for young Hélène. The other three are more at risk. Coco was protected by the pile of items he tried to hide behind. His hair has a few embers that he is too drunk to notice. Bory and Lameth... They're on fire, and they are increasingly looking less and less human as the glamour burns away, revealing a mixture of crumpled paper and strange floating black ink that is also on fire. Bory is panicking, swearing in Gascon, crashing into the wall as outlines of slope contours and drawings of plants and animals coil up and disintegrate. He trips over something and falls over, before the movements start putting the flames out - but the damage is very obviously done. Lameth is eerily calm. There are holes in her. Many, many holes that are becoming bigger.

Lameth: The situation has really heated up! Saint-Chamans: Sacre bleu Lameth you're on fire!!

Saint-Chamans would throw herself at Lameth, except that there is a small child on her leg, but instead she's going to try and hobble over.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

As for the hunter... For a few long moments, the hunter is joyfully ecstatic. He has not felt like this in so long! He has enough energy to call upon the glamour that would hide his regrets, why, enough to ride for eons and to lead a cavalry charge against those bleak forces that threaten reality! And then he is brought back to his senses as he sees his friend burning.

Bessières: Eugène- no, Eugène!

He steps forward-

Brun: Monsieur- stay back!

And he does, because he's the one who set everyone on fire.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

And in the meantime, something darts into a crack in the wall with a squeak. Too much light.

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[rapports-de-combat]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

—·—·—·—·— PREVIOUSLY... The Prodigal Hunter, injured in his hunt, comes home. ( 1, 2, 3 ) He walks in on a strange situation. ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ) The situation continues. ( Ongoing )

AND NOW... The Prince and the Hunter ( 1, 2, 3 )

—·—·—·—·—

“Alright, that was my story. Now it's your turn, mon ami. I don't understand a thing yet. Please tell me whatever you can tell, especially how I can help? I'm not too keen on setting myself on fire again, but if that is a possibility to heal you... maybe we can find a controlled way of dealing with it? And what's this about you working together with Lannes of all people and about ... Soult working with Ney, did I get that right? Who else is here? Do they all hunt demons? Are there more strange things going on in this afterlife? Oh, wait, let me start with the most important question: Do people really lay eggs here?” — @le-fils

—·—·—·—·—

As Eugène talks of halcyon days long gone, Bessières' calm expression doesn't change much, apart from smiles and nods as Eugène babbles on about Brits and titles, but perhaps there is a hungry orange glow reflected in his eyes, and perhaps he sits up straighter, more vibrantly, more alive.

Bessières: It gladdens me to hear that you and your family had a happy life, even if your wife wished that you were more decorated.

At the request to share what he knows, Bessières nods. He has no clue how to describe this. He is going to have to try.

Bessières: Hmmm. Well. This strange afterlife... it is no heaven. It is no hell either. There are places that call themselves heavens and hells, but it seems God has other plans for me.

This afterlife is a patchwork land that seems to connect those of us who knew each other in life... and some who we did not know. Some of us are changed from how we were in life in appearance or even habit. The rules that govern one man's existence, here, are not necessarily the same that govern another man's. Many of us hold dominion or reside in areas that we call our own, that are connected to other's. We are currently in Marshal Lannes'.

... Marshal Lannes, Marshal Soult and I... we were brought here by the same benefactor for the same purpose, and so we are collaborators. The three of us are the only ones who are hunting "demons", though "demon" is not quite right. It is distasteful, but against the enemy, a "demon" would be an ally.

But no, the others here are... well, they do not have the same purpose that we have. And we intend to keep it that way. My role is to track, hassle and harry them, so that they do not threaten this place... and to my knowledge, they do not lay eggs.

I do not know why Marshal Lannes is talking about eggs. I really do hope that he is not referring to any actual eggs.

A very disturbing thought occurs to Bessières, but he does not voice it. There is one instance of new life that he knows of.

But this is what happened. I have not been here in a long time. When I left, I only knew of the two who awoke with me - Marshals Lannes and Soult. I have dealt many a blow to the enemy, but he did the same to me. I had not been intending on coming back here yet. But I was nearby, and I found... myself. A double- different in some respects, but I knew him to be me.

He needs to talk to himself. About why Ney had reacted with aggression. About that entire mess that he was about to describe.

... Things like that happen in this place. But I believe... he would like to see you, as I have enjoyed speaking to you. And you may embrace him without risk of fire, for he is unlike me and my affliction.

Perhaps I shall write to him, and the two of us may visit him, if you are willing?

I do have to tell you that he is... apparently in a committed relationship with Duroc. And they have a child. And he is also in a... relationship with Murat. It seems things have changed from what we know.

Bessières says this last part very quickly.

This is a strange afterlife, where cats may marry dogs and the world is turned upside down. In my travels, I have witnessed stranger, so I am inured to such things, but I believe I should warn you. And...

After I had met with myself, that other Jean-Baptiste Bessières, I rested for a while and then was convinced to make contact with Marshal Soult. I arrived... to find that everyone had been transformed into women.

Marshal Ney was aggressive towards me for a reason I do not know. Joachim acted in my defense. Ney died and was resurrected without memory, and then was... stolen away by what seems to be a malevolent force. Marshal Soult has taken charge of the expedition, and I do not know why he appears to be so insistent on this, or why Ney was in his realm, or what occurred before I arrived there.

Marshal Lannes was summoned, and it was agreed that I would come with him to his headquarters to rest and recover, before I set out on my hunt again.

And then you appeared, as I was forced to dismount from my horse, and as Marshal Lannes was collecting firewood for me.

And that brings us to now... I do not wish to hurt you, mon ami. But... well, perhaps something controlled may aid me. Only if you are certain, of course. Perhaps if you were to donate a portion of your sleeve, and to speak more to me of the memories we share..?

[rapports-de-combat]

Something Old, Something New

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The Prince and the Hunter (1, 2, 3, 4) Something Old, Something New (1, 2)

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... What. Bessières shivers as the air grows colder, but he does not let it affect his expression of calm and vague concern. He recognises the passion and the heartbreak in the other Bessières's words, because he recognises the roots of it in himself. He would not have guessed... this specific sequence of events, but he supposed that such a cavalcade of dramatic occurrences would only be fitting as a precursor to whatever the devil he had walked in upon when he came to Soult's headquarters. ... To see your beloved kissing a naked Junot, however. And apparently have a good reason as to why. That would drive any man to the brink. He does not flinch at Eugène's analysis of the situation, but he cannot help but to feel a pang of guilt. I love you and I embrace you with all my heart, he recalls - words burned indelibly into his being.

Bessières: ... Monsieur Bessières, I am... truly sorry to hear of all that has befallen you and your family. I... do find myself concurring with Eugène's words, though of course, I do not know your family as keenly as you do. Duroc has always tried to push himself to help, and I can see that with your relationship now... he is still trying to help as much as he can, because he is far too kind and far too gentle.

He knows the impulse to give of yourself to others, out of pity, out of sorrow, out of duty. Perhaps that is why he made such friends with souls as Eugène and Duroc.

Bessières: I am glad to hear that you are seeking aid, however. And while I remain here... I would like to help you and Helene in any way that I can. Before I left for faraway lands, I was told that in this place, connections are important. I have not had the chance to make many of my own, by choice... But I pray that your family can weather this storm. I do not think that Duroc or Murat will change. But I think... that is why we love them so.

He... does not know if what he is saying will help, at all.

Bessières: ... And last I heard, Abrantes was eating donated human hearts.

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(( @your-dandy-king || @le-fils ))

[rapports-de-combat]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

A thread for @le-fils.

—·—·—·—·—

PREVIOUSLY... The Prodigal Hunter, injured in his hunt, comes home. ( 1, 2, 3 ) He walks in on a strange situation. ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ) The situation continues. ( Ongoing ) And while that situation is ongoing, as yet to be described, accompanied by a rival, the Prodigal Hunter makes his way to another shelter.

—·—·—·—·—

This edge of the tactician's realm, as of this moment, is a forested wood where once upon a time partisans may have lurked behind each tree in the desperation to protect their home from invasion. Sometimes, the army of this realm fights the memory of such enemies, to keep their blades sharp as they prepare for the incursion of other things. The prodigal hunter and the loyal knight draw close, both on their steeds. The prodigal hunter is a skilled rider, and both of their horses are of a phantasmal kind that does not shy or spook or tire, but there is a slump to the hunter's shoulders and a weakening in his movement that does not escape his travelling companion.

Lannes: Monsieur le marechal you are going to fucking fall off that thing.

Bessières: I am fine, Monsieur le Maréchal.

Lannes: were stopping and making you a campfire. no fucking arguments.

Mere wood will sustain the hunter for a short time, but it is not the preferred fuel of the memory-flame. The hunter argues, weakly, but Lannes does not accept any of it. The two of them dismount, and Lannes goes off to collect wood, perhaps breaking the branches with a strange strength that he possesses. He wanders around, not so far, within eyesight of where the horses wait patiently in a very unhorselike manner. The hunter sits against a tree and sighs. He is heartsick. To see Murat, even if she... he... is spoken for by another variant of himself, had filled his heart with a joy that he did not know that he had been missing. And now he is gone on his own mission, and it is uncertain whether he will return. Bessières wants to relax. He wants to see his friends and family. He wants to lower his guard. He wants to smile and laugh again.

[rapports-de-combat]

𝑼𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆.

-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-

Long before any contact was made with other afterlives or the living world...

"I'll go," he said. Both Soult and Lannes protested. "He is my problem," Soult said, firmly. Lannes' next words were of utter disbelief. "Your problem? He's all of our fucking problems! Just because you look-" He interrupted. "It makes sense for me to go. Soult is too fragile. Lannes is damaged- cracked. I'm only stopped and burnt. I'm more durable than you two and I can move faster." And I'm a hunter, he thinks. And I don't want to be here in my memories anymore, he thinks.

-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-

Now...

The chasseur weaves through the shifting blurring landscapes of the patchwork afterlives. His white horse gallops forth without complaint- a strange thing for an animal that would be worn out by such ceaseless riding, but the horse is not a thing of life and neither is the chasseur. His quarry will not be so easily caught. His quarry knows all of their tactics and secrets. A few times he made contact, and a few times he barely escaped with his existence. But he knows what he has to do. The landscape here is comfortable. Green, cozy even. Something nostalgic for a man trying to forsake nostalgia for duty. And then he sees- himself. Kneeling on the dirt. The chasseur is dressed in a dark travelling cloak, tied together with a curious golden chain from a certain pocketwatch, but his own powdered hair is unmistakable even under the recognisable hat he wears. To see yourself in the dream of the afterlife is not such an unexpected thing. The raptor had warned them of such things. But this could also be a trick of the enemy, and the enemy is very devious indeed. The enemy is a strategist, after all. Despite himself, the chasseur does approach. Closer than he should, a longing for familiarity or a detached curiosity beckoning him forth. From his steed, without saying anything, he watches himself plant saplings in the ground.

-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-·-

((@your-dandy-king))

[rapports-de-combat]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

—·—·—·—·— PREVIOUSLY... The Prodigal Hunter, injured in his hunt, comes home. ( 1, 2, 3 ) He walks in on a strange situation. ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ) The situation continues. ( Ongoing )

AND NOW... The Prince and the Hunter ( 1 )

—·—·—·—·—

"I'm fine, don't worry. An affliction, you say? - It surely has a way to make its presence known. Not sure anybody has ever before found you as hot as I just did. - Well, unless we count that one night at Véry's when those two ladies almost came to blows over the question which of them you had checked out..." — @le-fils

—·—·—·—·—

Bessières actually chuckles at this. Lannes looks at him like he's insane.

Bessières: Now that had been an incendiary situation indeed... Both of them had been rather eyecatching, and I can hardly be blamed for looking at both. Pity that their argument lessened their quality so.

Lannes: Are you shitting me are you two seriously catching up about your past conquests in the middle of the fucking woods Bessières: Wherever else would we do so, Marshal Lannes?

Lannes is still looking at Bessières like he's insane. But he tears his stare from the strangely lively Bessières to Eugène, and jabs a finger at the young man's chest.

Lannes: for that matter princeling where the fuck did you come from??? I sent you a letter cause i heard you were in the area but hadnt heard or seen anything else of you

and now you suddenly just appear outta nowhere to gossip at bessie and thats mighty suspicious!

Coincidences are a feature of this realm. The two of them know that. But Lannes is too irritated to let that slide.

[rapports-de-combat]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

—·—·—·—·— PREVIOUSLY... The Prodigal Hunter, injured in his hunt, comes home. ( 1, 2, 3 ) He walks in on a strange situation. ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ) The situation continues. ( Ongoing )

AND NOW... The Prince and the Hunter ( 1, 2)

—·—·—·—·—

“But yes, it's all a bit much for my poor brain right now. If I have properly understood: You and the Duc de Montebello are fighting some enemy? And you were wounded during the fight, and that's why there is a literal flame burning inside you? And now that I have come here, by whatever means, and have regained my memories and my sense of self, by whatever means - now that flame wants to consume my memories? Did this flame bring me here then because it's hungry?” — @le-fils

—·—·—·—·—

Bessières: Only two years more..? I am sorry.

Lannes: You can be sad about that later!

Seems that Bessières would far rather be sad about Eugène’s circumstances than to acknowledge the flame within him or the similarities that Eugène has to the quarry he seeks.

Bessières: But you are… correct. For the most part. The flame is part of what… maintains my existence here. It is exposed because I was injured. I hunt an enemy that is much like a demon, but worse. I cannot speak much of it in specifics, but of their kind… they engage in sin and temptation, but the sin they seek is destruction and oblivion, and they would destroy both that which is evil and good. They come from nothingness and they reduce all to nothingness. They are a threat, and I was brought here in a way that would make me suited to hunt them.

Lannes: theyre also just really fucking annoying. theyre a lot like the british. you, little princeling, look like you come from a place that doesn’t exist.

Bessières: Please do not call Eugène British.

Lannes: You know what i mean!! anyway you little princeling look just like a really stupid trap designed to lull our preliminary weapon into a false sense of security so that you can i dunno explode in his face or eat his fire or run away with all our secrets.

Bessières: … He is not going to do that.

Lannes: how do you know?! MAYBE HELL LAY AN EVIL EGG WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT.

Bessières: … what.

[rapports-de-combat]

𝑼𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆.

previous: ( 1 , 2 ) —·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

"This may take some time." -- Bessières of @your-dandy-king

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That was an understatement.

Bessières: ...

Surely he can summon up something intelligent to say. Surely. Surely.

Bessières: ...

He almost looks like a statue in how frozen his face is, though that's really more Lannes' domain.

Bessières: ...

He has already seen ridiculous things like a lizard in a waistcoat. He, himself, is a ridiculous thing. His mission is downright silly if you think about it.

Bessières: ... This all sounds... very... eventful... I... do not know what to say. I... believe you...

He's not sure he does, actually. He's going to change the topic because he feels he may be liable to overheat if he thinks about this too hard. Some smoke does escape from the collar of his cloak.

Bessières: ... May I ask where Geraud is? I understand that you two are estranged for the moment, but if this is his realm... I would like to see Eugène too, if he is around. And... I assume you have not seen Adèle, young Napoléon... or... Virginie..?

Old letters flutter in his chest. Wound up clockwork strains against beating time. But he can't put off these questions anymore. Or maybe the shock of so much ridiculousness has lowered his guard.

[rapports-de-combat]

𝑼𝒏 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆.

previous: ( 1 ) —·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

"I apologize. I did not intend for my inquiry to be perceived as an accusation. [...]

This is not my domain, but Duroc's." — Bessières of @your-dandy-king

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The chasseur listens, his expression initially wounded, and then still and careful in the way that he is used to. He cannot pull his cloak any closer to himself, try as he might, as conscious of the smoke as he is.

Bessières: This is a lovely realm, and it makes sense that it is that of Duroc's. It would be nice to see him- to see Murat- to see all of them again. And it is good to hear that you have made such connections.

The answer to what you have asked is no. I do not experience that manner of rebirth. In fact...

The other has shared something vulnerable of himself. He... is not ready to do so, not willingly, not wholly, not aside from what the glamour has let slip, but he will share some things.

Bessières: ... The three of us awoke a few months ago- I, and the version of Lannes and Soult that I know. We share the process that... created us, but not the specifics. Our realms seem not as stable as yours; they are patchwork pieces of our memories, shifting between battlefields - though Soult has occasionally managed to retain his castle and family, as ephemeral as they are.

It's not quite jealousy there, but it is very close. And if the other Bessières has paid attention to the realms of the others, he would recognise that description in the realms of the Lannes and Soult that he knows.

Bessières: Your dreams sound... pleasant. Not the falling part, no. I cannot say that I dream of the same things or in the same way.

It is more like a waking dream, really, this death of his. He coughs, and slight grey smoke falls from his mouth- the smoke of burning paper, perhaps an ember or two flickering within. He tries to cover it, to wipe his mouth, somewhat futilely.

Bessières: ... Apologies- excuse me. I... left my realm. There is an enemy, and I have been hunting him. Harrying him, so he does not settle and have time to make plans. But he has wounded me, and it is... difficult to hide some things.

... It bothers him, so, so very much. The fact of what he is. The questions that it brings up. But this is better than staying in that shifting painful dream.

Bessières: Would you mind telling me a little of what has happened... in this current life of yours?

[rapports-de-combat]

Archives officielles des maréchaux de l'armée de l'au-delà

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(( This is the miscellaneous RP blog for @cadmusfly, where particularly long posts and certain characters in the Napoleonic RP Scene live. The actual main RP blogs are at @armagnac-army and @murillo-enthusiast, so go check them out for context if you've somehow ended up here.

The posts here tend to be more plot heavy and also long, so be warned. There's also some sightings of some strange doppelgangers around... ))

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Masterpost of Threaded Events: 1, 2

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rapport d’action du duc de montebello

rapport d’action du duc de dalmatie

rapport d’action du duc d'istrie

rapport d'action des adcs de dalmatie - adc brun de villeret, adc lameth, adc saint-chamans, adc petiet, adc bory de saint-vincent

rapport d'action des adcs de montebello - adc subervie, adc marbot

descriptions narratives d'incidents enregistrés

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signalements d’un ennemi de l’existence

signalements du roi aux ambitions traîtresses

signalements de ton meilleur ami

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I̵͚̗̗͐̽N̸͇̥̣̓͗̚͝V̸̯͈͠E̶̥̹̋̋̏͝N̷̠͇͛T̸̡̩͎͋̓̑ͅO̴̦̬̬͘R̷̫̫̻͂̍Ỵ̴̫̈͐:̵̻̪̂

À̶̦ ̸̃͜ċ̶̦ṛ̸̂ȃ̷̖ć̴͖k̶̰͋ẻ̴͇d̵͉̍ ̴̗́m̷̯̋a̸̮̓r̶͕͗b̴̨̀l̸͒ͅe̸͓͗ ̸̈́ͅs̵̠̉ṯ̵͘a̵̰͑t̸͎̊u̷̬͘ė̶͙,̶̼̍ ̵͔̑ö̵̱́v̶̯̈ê̴͎r̴͙̀g̸̤͛r̴̹͒o̵͐ͅẘ̸̖n̵̹͌ ̶̦́ā̵̗n̵̼̒d̵͓̀ ̸̤̃ḽ̶́e̶̜̋f̴̬͛t̶̰̎ ̸͕̓ẗ̶̤o̶̩̔ ̷̩̏r̶̫̕o̴͚͌t̸̫̂ ̸̹̓ǒ̶̝u̷̽ͅt̷̬̏s̴̤̑i̶͘ͅd̶̹͠ẹ̷͐.̷̰̿

̶̝͌A̵͍͛ ̶͈̌t̷̤̔o̸̾ͅṙ̵͓ṇ̵̈ ̵̲̌p̷̡̅ä̵͈́i̶̱̓ṅ̵̦t̶̤͌i̵̤͗ǹ̸̺g̶̻̋,̵̭̓ ̸̡̈́d̸̝̽r̶̦̂i̶̪̊p̵̞̐p̵̪̈́i̵̦͑ṅ̷̠ġ̵̗ ̵̯͛â̶̦ṉ̵̀d̴͚̀ ̵͚̎ḏ̴͌e̶̤̕f̴̞͂a̸͕͐c̴̝͑ê̶͈d̵̿͜.̷̦̈

̸̭̔S̸͈̕c̶̗̅ŗ̷̀ḁ̵̈́p̷̼͂s̵̰̕ ̸̟͒ŏ̶͙f̴̰̒ ̴̲̚b̴͙̚u̷͇̾r̵̪͠n̴̪͒ȩ̶͋d̵͎̋ ̴̲̓l̶͎͋è̶͜t̶͖́t̴͎̊e̵̡̽ř̴̰s̶̪̈,̴͕̓ ̴̞͌ŵ̴̦r̶̢͑ȃ̷͇ṕ̸̥ṕ̷̜ḙ̶͠d̴͚͑ ̷͎̈́w̷̧͂i̷̭̚t̶̰́h̸́͜ ̴̡́t̷͝ͅḣ̵̝e̴̻͝ ̶̤̐c̷͓͗ḫ̴͆a̴̯̓i̴͈͊n̶̻̉ ̵͜͝ǫ̶̽f̵̝͝ ̷͙͋a̴͍͛ ̴̗̾ș̶̀t̷̠͑ỏ̷͔p̵̫͠p̶̧̔e̸̛̲d̶͈̀ ̸̬̎p̴̺̋ȯ̷̰c̴̘̒k̸̆͜ě̶̗t̸̢̉ẘ̸̡a̷̰̔ṫ̷̜c̶͕͝h̸̗͝.̵̘̏

̵͈̓A̵̜͆ ̴͇̉s̵͍͋ḙ̸̌r̵̡͒ḭ̸͒e̷͓̎s̸͚͆ ̷͈͛ơ̵͙f̷̖́ ̵͔͝m̵̦͘e̵̊͜m̸͙͑o̸̲̕i̴͉͒r̸͈̈́s̴͔̉,̸̘̌ ̸̩̔p̷̄ͅḙ̸̔n̵̲̎n̴̳͊ẽ̴͎d̸̡̎ ̵͍̊b̷̮̉ẏ̴̥ ̶̓͜a̷̝̒i̷̙̒d̶̜͆e̷͕͆s̵̻͆ ̴͍̿l̶̠̕o̶̤͠y̷̽͜à̶̱ļ̴̔ ̵͚͐â̴͈t̸̝͐ ̵̱̔t̴̬́h̴̛̝è̷̹ ̸͙̄t̶́ͅi̷̟͊m̸̗͝e̴̩̓.̶̡͝ ̷̋͜(̷͓͋A̵̙̔l̴̗̅s̶͖̊o̴̫̽ ̷̬́p̶̜̍ă̵͖r̸̮̀t̵̻̐ ̶̢͒ǒ̶̗f̴̹̈́ ̸̛̼ṱ̵̇h̷̰̓i̴̯̎ṡ̸̠ ̴͎͗s̸͕̑e̸̻͗r̶̢̒ǐ̴̪e̴̜̒s̵̮̕:̶̬̃ ̴͝ͅḁ̴̽ ̴͕̈́s̸̝͗m̶̬̒a̷͉͊l̶̮͗l̴̺͆ ̶̦̊p̷̨̓i̴͉͠ĺ̷̺é̴̩ ̴͓͋o̸̞͌f̵̡̌ ̵̦̄b̸͖̑û̴ͅr̷͍̈́ņ̸͝ē̶̟ḓ̶͐ ̸̭͝a̴͚̔n̷͈͐d̸̞̓ ̴̟̊t̵̮̍o̴̭͒r̴̯̀ṋ̶̔ ̵̜̀c̵͙̆o̴͕͆p̷̟̾i̶̪͑e̵͖͝s̶͍̍ ̵̫̌o̴͖͠f̴̬͊ ̶̻̇s̴͉̀o̷̳̊m̵̮͐ë̵̗́ ̵̙̎e̵͓͛x̵̤̊i̷̗͗s̸͉̀t̴̼́i̷̱̕ń̶̙ǧ̷͓ ̶͕͊p̵͙̆a̵̲͝ǵ̷͕e̸͓͠s̶͈̅,̵̛̭ ̶͙̅a̵͎̓ṋ̴̓o̷̺̒t̶͉̏h̷̘̒ë̶̟́r̵͚͛ ̷̱̊p̷̣̽i̵͍̕l̵̩͛ě̸͖ ̴͍͑ô̷̠f̵͔͊ ̷̻̚l̷͍̔ụ̵̔s̶͈̏h̷̝́l̴̩̿ẙ̷̤ ̷̝͗d̵͎͐e̴͇̋t̴̬̾a̶̺͑ȋ̸͔ḻ̷́e̸̠͆d̸̽ͅ ̶̱́m̴̗͘a̷̯͂p̶͓̽s̶̱̔ ̵͔͌ä̶̺́ň̷̼d̴̲͛ ̵̳̓ḋ̸̨r̸̆͜a̵͚͠ẃ̶͚í̵̩n̵͖͠g̷̠̈́s̸͎̀ ̵̤͒o̷̖̊f̶̹̈ ̸͖̂n̴̻̆a̶͎̔t̶̨͝u̶̝̾r̸̪̈́e̵̠͋.̸͎̏)̸̬̏

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