let fury have the hour,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Agoge's third TDM! And the death of an important guy. And some very upset royalty.
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

IT'LL BE FINE;

Paris, 1792: revolutionary france.

read the France setting infopages

arrival for new recruits

(Note: If you were one of the people who used the previous TDM and want to use that as canon while still participating in this one, feel free! The following will still happen, though the guide will apologize for a malfunction in your BCE causing you to zap through the intervening month instead of joining your comrades like you should have. You'll be assured the glitch is fixed now, and it probably is. Probably.)

You wake up in a Parisian hotel room with a kind woman standing near the door, waiting for you to awaken. You have none of your clothing, just black military-issued underwear, and none of your previous possessions beyond the one you chose (if you remember choosing) to bring with you.

The woman by the door speaks French, and if you didn't understand the language before, you do now. If you have questions as to what's going on, she'll answer: you are a member of COST, a paramilitary organization of time travelers fighting against the Regency, a tyrannous kingdom of the future who are trying to stamp out freedom and individuality in the name of peace.

She will provide you with the clothing necessary to fit in at this time, and show you how to use your BCE implant to look up information on this time period and its social and political mores. She won't let you leave until you're properly dressed to fit in, but once you are, she'll wish you luck.

KILL THE KING

It doesn't matter if you're new, or if you've been here a while. You'll hear about the execution going on today. It's as though the barely restrained urban chaos of Paris has ground to a halt. Everything is about the king. Is it really going to happen? Are they really going to do it? Can they do it? Is it even possible?

Anyone out of the loop will be filled in, but with no small amount of ridicule: Today is the day of the king's execution. His trial has wrapped up, and the National Convention voted to execute him for treason and tyranny.

The crowd at the execution is enormous, a riotous mob of passion barely restrained. Everyone is jockeying for a better view, with children and adults climbing up on nearby statues, lampposts, the sides of houses, rooves, some even hang from windows. Everyone watches the scaffold.

The prison cart arrives with no fanfare save the yells of the crowd. Within it sits a small, fat little man, looking like he's doing his best to remain composed. He's brought to the scaffold, and his crimes are read out: colluding with foreign powers, and the crime of royalty, which is anathema to the republic of France.

When asked for his final words, Louis Capet, known to some as King Louis XVI, speaks in a quiet voice. "I forgive my enemies."

When the blade comes down, the crowd errupts into cheers. Many rush forward to touch the blood of a king, dipping bits of cloth in it in an attempt to save it.

I PREDICT A RIOT

It's as though all the built up tension in Paris exploded when the king was killed.

Who knows what started it. Rumors spread like wildfire, and it doesn't matter, does it? In the end, most of Paris is swarmed with chaos, especially in the areas nearest to where the king was executed. There's no doubt that the riot and the king's death are directly related; no peasant currently throwing stones and breaking windows will deny it.

Fights are happening with great frequency. It only takes a word, a half sentence, for someone to decide you're some kind of counter-revolutionary. There is a current of anxiety in Paris that hasn't gone away; after reaching a fever pitch, it has expressed itself with violence and chaos.

let's visit the tuileries

The Tuileries was the royal palace in Paris, the last residence of the king before his death. Of course the people of France end up clamoring at its gates, screaming profanities and attempting to scale them.

The majority of the guard let them do this, making only the most token of efforts to keep the peasantry back. But one guard, a man by the name of Antoine Colin, seems to become spooked and shoots repeatedly into the crowd before someone knocks him out.

By then, though, it's too late. The crowd was rambunctious, but not murderous. Now it's bloodthirsty, and the gates are stormed. It isn't long before the common people of France are trampling through the corridors of power. Inside, they'll mostly find servants running and hiding, and lots of valuables to steal.

Most are content with that, but not all. Some clamor for the deaths of the queen and the royal children-- per the laws of inheritance, Marie Capet's remaining son is now King of France. Should he not die as well?

The queen is hidden in a safe room, a hollow wall inside her apartments. Do you try to find her? Try to save her? Try to kill her yourself?

...And what about those kids hiding in there with her?

BRING IN THE TROOPS

The riot in the Tuileries lasts several hours, well past nightfall. It's beginning to peter off, people loosing their energy or vigor, when the sound of gunfire echoes from the front courtyard.

General Lafayette has arrived to save the queen, and brought with him a retinue of personal soldiers. All on horseback, brandishing firearms and sabers, they stream through the expansive halls of the Tuileries and attack anyone who looks out of place. They're here to clean up this mess with no concern for more filthy peasants getting in the way.

Aftermath

The night is a long one. Several fires break out in various parts of Paris, shops are looted, and several die in the Tuileries. The queen has disappeared, along with Lafayette. Some say she and Lafayette died, and they'll show you the bodies for a couple sou. Others claim they saw them riding off into safety just before sunrise. There are already talks of hunting them down, trying to find the traitors.

Only one thing is known for sure: It may be advisable to stay inside for the foreseeable future.

read the France setting infopages

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Comments

[hakanai]

Those on the cusp of adulthood are often filled with a confidence and certainty that they are invincible, strong, that nothing will bother them. I was not like that... or I thought as much.

[You know this is serious, he would say. That we have to kill, that some of us might die. The flow is dragging us through difficult times and we must be prepared to deal with it. And of course so many of his squad-mates had laughed and assured him that they were, of course they were, why wouldn't they be? Let's find glory! Let's demonstrate our strength!]

[He'd shaken his head and called them fools to their face. But in the end he was a fool too.]

That first battle was not a particularly large or important one in terms of the army, but for us boys? [Yoshitsugu closes his eyes.] I killed for the first time that day. In the middle of a muddy, wet battlefield the flow guided me step through step through blood and flesh, and I survived; when it was all over I walked back to camp, found a spot on its outskirts and emptied my stomach completely.

[He wasn't the only one who'd had to. Everyone who had survived their first battle had been unusually pale and quiet that first night, as the reality of life as a soldier really sunk in, and no doubt plenty were just as unable to eat as Yoshitsugu had been. Their superiors had not criticised them for this, because most of them had once gone through the same thing.]

I thought I knew that this was serious, that lives would be lost and that it would be unpleasant. Nothing prepares you for the reality of it. My wisdom did not save me from the nausea, the nightmares, the appearance of each and every man that I struck down in my dreams for weeks afterwards.

[He open his eyes again glances at Ryuji, studying his face quietly before pulling down his own facecloth. This is, for him, a very very rare sharing of vulnerability. It's not something Yoshitsugu ever does and yet he's doing it anyway, going against the flow, so keeping his facecloth up is pointless.]

My partner was injured in that battle as well. I cried while I cleaned his wounds. Isn't that a strange thought? Me, openly showing grief and pain and uncertainty, full of fear and distress... it is not who I am now. But all who take part in war must go through that.

[ryuji]

[That was exactly how Ryuji was when he came to Paris- the idea that, no matter what, he was strong enough to weather the storms that would come, invincible by his own cognition and by his own right. They were both fools, it seems, because it took today to set him aside and teach him that he wasn't quite as high up on the food chain as he thought he was.

Not that he imagined this like a game, or didn't feel like he had stakes in it, but because none of this felt like he had a stake in what happened. How can you be upset about something that happened over 200 years ago? Rationalize it all he wanted to, but in the end, he was derided by his own lack of foresight.

Ryuji starts to feel uncomfortable, looking down into his lap. It's nothing that Yoshitsugu is saying, it's just... the implication is really deep. Nothing does prepare anyone for the reality of a battle.]

I don't think it's strange...

I feel kinda like cryin' right now, and I don't even have a wound to clean up.

[God, this was so..

Messed.]

Look... you didn't deserve that either, y'know? I'm just... I mean. Shit.

[It's hard to find the right words. Maybe he'd hung around people who were always battling their own demons in some way, but Ryuji's always coped by just... getting angry at the people they were angry at, or trying to share some of that pain onto himself. It's how he dealt with his own problems.

Ryuji scoots a little closer to Yoshitsugu. He knows vulnerability when he sees it, and hesitatingly, he reaches a hand over, retracts, and then decides to say screw it and clasps onto his shoulder, at least, in a supportive way.]

Mn... Man, this shit... it really sucks, huh? [And takes his hand back, in the end, figuring that the breach of personal space might not be the best thing to be engaging in right now, but Ryuji's just such... a tactile person that it's hard not to.]

I just wanna. Y'know, at the end of this. Still be able to look myself in the mirror.

[And think that I'm a good man.]

[hakanai]

[Yoshitsugu remains quiet and still when Ryuji clasps his shoulder but he does not move away or reject the show of comfort either; he just watches the young man, thoughtful, taking in every clue that tells him more about the personality he is engaging with. It's true that he has something of a wide personal 'bubble' but Yoshitsugu can be tactile with certain people, on certain occasions... it's just not a very common thing. He's not a gentle sort, the kind to give out hugs on every occasion.]

[But he remains human, doesn't he? And an ultimately good, if strange, man.]

You will be capable, or others will be able to look for you. [Yoshitsugu smiles a little when he eventually talks again.] You are too pure to fall that far.

[Of that he's certain. The samurai is able to read the flow of things well, and in turn, judge the place of others in it. Ryuji's heart is too full of the kind of light Lord Nagamasa and Mitsunari possess to lose it entirely.]

As I said, all who take part in war must go through this. The realisation of what is required, what we must do to fulfil our goals and make dreams come true... our unit is filled with men and women who have already gone through what you are feeling. It does indeed 'suck,' but you are not alone in it.

[He leans in, gaze growing intense. It's a meaningful and pointed question he asks now...]

What do you fight for? A dream of your own, the dream of another?

[ryuji]

[Ryuji's face turns a little red for the words that are laid out against him- and just like everything that he's felt before, listening to Yoshitsugu, it comes as if each word was cultivated, ripened, and then plucked from a tree just at the right moment. He loved the way he spoke like that- it felt so old, accustomed and antiquated, but not in the way that it seemed like most things that suffered against the tide of modernity in Japan. It was calming, endearing, and warm.

Who knows if he would ever contain the light that Yoshitsugu saw in him. Ryuji never thought about it himself, he just did what felt right- letting his own internal moral compass guide him the same way the stars would to navigators of ages long past. He has to give a dumb chuckle at hearing him use the word suck, as he looks down to the floor and absorbs the gravity of the moment.

If he had friends like this, surely, he could never fall to its center, no matter how strong the pull. One thing was for certain, though. The lines between life and death were shorter here within COST. One day, he'd have to be on the soldier's end of the blade- and he'd have to make that choice. When that day comes, who knows what Ryuji will experience. Days, months, weeks of the same image of a person he's killed, just as Yoshitsugu had stated? Or could he find a third way instead and keep his hands unsullied.

It ties into the question he's asked, and for a few moments, Ryuji is just silent, eventually coming to look at the intensity that his friend lasers straight into him.]

I fight because I can... because I want a world where I can make something better for being a part of it rather than worse. So I can make my mom proud to be her son. [A second or so of a pause. He doesn't feel nearly as comfortable with the following things floating around in his head than the former.]

So I can be proud of myself, for once. It's hard... y'know. Back when he was around, all my dad did was smack me around and call me worthless. I wanna grow into a man that can show the world exactly how fuckin' wrong he was.

[hakanai]

[Yoshitsugu nods briefly when Ryuji is done speaking both his comfortable and less-comfortable words. That lack of pride in one's self... strange as it may be but Takatora, while finding himself to be useful, ultimately thinks he is also disposable and has a low self-esteem that Yoshitsugu has never really found an ultimate reason for. It's always been there, beneath all the battlefield bluster and rivalries with people like Katou Kiyomasa.]

[Ryuji, though? That father he speaks of no doubt had a part to play. Countries move, times change, values alter, but Yoshitsugu can quite confidently label that man as being the unworthy one in the equation despite the vast differences in the worlds they know. He's not going to delve into that now because this isn't the conversation for it, and it's not his place to pry, but he'll remember. Each little piece of information tells him more about the young man before him, each thread makes clearer the tapestry that Ryuji is, and that helps Yoshitsugu to perfect his approach to his comrade-in-arms. Because that's exactly what they are now, isn't it?]

[Anda good strategist gets to know each and every one as well as they can. Most from a distance, sure, but in this case it's a more personal experience.]

Hold your dreams in your heart, and keep them in mind when you find yourself struggling. [Yoshitsugu shifts again, looking away, closing his eyes and stealing a little rest while he can.] Because you will struggle further in the future. This will not be the last time you find your heart hurting and unable to deal with blood, death and the cruelty of things you see.

[He's smiling again, despite that blunt declaration of the truth. Yoshitsugu will never sugarcoat a situation for you, but]

Lord Nagamasa, my first Lord and the man who taught me that sometimes the flow is worth defying? He witnessed the very worst than humans could do to each other, was betrayed and hurt at every step, had to navigate battlefields filled with gunfire and blood against his own brother-in-law while his dear wife wept, but would still run back for a single soldier or almost cast himself from a cliff to save a single rabbit. He made the world better by being himself, pure and gold no matter how much darkness there was. Your goals are ones he would approve of, and ones that his existence prove can be fulfilled.

feel free to count this as an ending or if you wanna wrap up, that's good w/ me!

[ryuji]

[Stretching his legs out a little, a tic of sorts whenever he brings up something relating to the horrible role models he's had in life, he feels the pain in his left leg rise up, a keen reminder to stay in the moment- not proverbially trip over himself by the fact he's limited in what he can do in this world. He knows that Yoshitsugu is right, and the climate of his statement is a global cooling of the intense hot heat that stirs inside him, ever passionate to make himself proven worthy of... something, of anything, really... and he stays quiet for a little bit as he goes on to describe Nagamasa.

Ryuji immediately knows that he would like this guy. Not because of the heroic aspect that he portrays, but because the values are there that they share- compassion for the world around them. Not letting apathy win out. Fuck, if it's a rabbit that needs saving, it should be cherished. The people in this world who can't fight for themselves against oppression because of their status in life need something to believe in. It sounds like Nagamasa would be that focal point, and as he closes his eyes, he almost envisions what the guy looked like. Of course, the image is all wrong, nowhere near what Yoshitsugu would probably remember him to be, but it's still a positive outline nonetheless.

Harder days ahead, for sure. But if someone like that can keep themselves pure, Ryuji thinks he can too. Who knows. In the end, there's no grand battle between heaven and hell over the weight of his soul and the value it contains within- he's just a regular boy with sometimes misguided thoughts, vulgar words and pent up anger- but, nothing spectacular in any way, shape or form. At some point, he wanted to be a Phantom Thief for the vainglory that it would bring him, but he's long past that point of needing to make a name for himself. Masks, whether ones of the heart or physical ones that summon personas, are just that. Protection against the cruel eyes of the world. But he can't wear one forever. With a short sigh, he sits there, contemplating.

And really? It's all too deep for him to get the full grasp of, so it'll be something that he'll have to chew on over the upcoming days and weeks. Forgive him, Yoshitsugu, for making light of the situation, but he's deeply touched by the words- and the weight that they hold. But.. Ryuji's just Ryuji. Anyone who knows him well enough knows that he wears his heart out in the open, right up on his sleeve, sometimes at his feet, but it's always visible and he's always too easy to read if you look hard enough.]

Sounds like he'd make good boyfriend material. [A small smile, furtive, but appreciative, too.

His friend once told him that, as a member of the opposite sex, that she had felt no charm from him whatsoever. Completely true.]

Guess I'll have to try harder.