♈ Aradia: Alert the proper authorities.

[psych0p0mps]

[Filtered away from Legato or any other prisoners or their allies]

Does anyone know what's happened to the people we were holding in the Dead Zone? Legato and the others, I mean. I have reason to believe Legato is somewhere in Paris right now, and if he was just brought here like the rest of us, he is probably on the loose. The same may be true of anyone else who was being held in detention, and we can't assume that they've lost their powers like the rest of us. Not everyone was de-powered during the last world change back in June.

If they are free, then someone will need to re-detain them. And if they're still powered, the results could be disastrous if we don't...

... The Peace Patrol is still a thing, right? Even here?

[ooc note: I'm pretty sure the prisoners were actually in the castle basement, but Aradia doesn't know that.]

rufus wainwright will be my soundtrack for this log

[concerns.livejournal.com]

Who: oyaji and concerns
What: stuff
When: backdated to Sunday (18th) around when Paris plot begins
Where: TRISTA SOCKETT HOUSE
Rating: P....G.... /squints

( UUUUNDERRRR THE PEEEAAAACH TREEEEEEES WITH HIMMMM )

040 - Want It All Back

[jammin-with-ed.livejournal.com]

[It's Monday morning, time for all the good children of the city to be going to school. There is a very enthusiastic redhead skipping down the sidewalk with her backpack balanced on her head. She's dressed very much like your typical 13(ish) year old... but her bare feet slap the sidewalk as she dances her way through the crowd singing at the top of her lungs.]

Schooo~oool, schooo~oool, gooooiiiing to schoooo~ooool! Edward is going to leaaaarn something today yes oh yes!

[She's not entiiiiirely watching where she's going, if she's not careful she might run into someone]

((OOC: Open for action on the street.))

007 ~ One hospital is like another [Action/Dictated]

[atadiscoverer]

[So, it's time for work!

And, after a long and complicated Métro ride into the centre of Paris, and a bus to the banks of the Seine, Dr. Carson Beckett finally finds Saint-Pierre Infirmerie, where he was supposed to be working as a locum A&E doctor. He flops in behind his desk, making sure his pager is easily viewable, should he be called to an emergency, and takes out his journal.]

So, who else is starting their first day in Paris without being able to read or speak a bloody word of French?

Aye, everyone here speaks English, but I swear they're bloody talking about me behind my back... And all the labels are in French, too.

((OOC: Feel free to come into A&E with some odd injuries, or to just bug him. Open for voice over journal, or action at the hospital. Also, happy to forward-date, if wanted. Carson is also on-call, so happy to accept random calls in the middle of the night, either by journal or phone!))

First Paris Council

[heraldofnoldor.livejournal.com]

[There is one miffed looking man walking up and down, poking, investigating in a hotel all day. If he looks out of place, especially around the computer and cash register, and lighting, than well it should be the first clue that something is wrong. The second should be him occasionally tripping over something as he looks through a number of books, first his journal, second the hotel ledger (he's figured that one out at least), and then a number of other ones he's found around. The recovery from the tripping is slow and a lot less graceful than this particular man would like.

Finally if you know him? His hair is shorter and he looks very much, uncomfortable in the black suit he's found (which is all his wardorbe seems to be made up of). Suffice to say all of this has made for one very upset elf-lord-turned-human.

Part way through the day he decides to speak into the journal.]

If, those of you who are here and find yourselves in need of shelter, I find that I am in charge of a, business that provides such, an inn far larger than I have seen before. I need no payment, only to know that you have a place to sleep at night indoors and perhaps work to insure it is well kept through our stay. If you would wish to, accept my offer ask and I will provide what little direction that I can.

[And after that he's heading outside (minus a jacket, what's winter clothing to an elf?), and shivering and finding himself having to walk THROUGH the snow, he pushes on to at least get some idea of the location of his hotel, taking note of street signs and buildings.]

((ooc: Open for action anywhere in the hotel, outside or over the journal! And for those showing up to see him in person he's looking like Agent Smith right now...ALSO open for kissing.))

☠ 033 ; forward-dated to morning time

[molotov]

[Well, it's Monday morning, and surely all the good children are headed into school, right? Hopefully you're in primary school, because if so, your teacher is Molotov! And she doesn't know crap about education, or children, or really anything at all that would make her qualified to be a teacher. But maybe that means you'll get a goof-off day.

She'll go ahead and make a journal announcement, just because she apparently has a boss, and she'll be damned if some fakey magic principal fires her just because other residents are screwing up.]

If you are young enough to be in grade school, I fully expect you to be present in my class. And I will find you if you do not show up.

[So... yeah. Better heed that warning! Who knows? If all the children behave, maybe there will be stickers and candies. That's what teachers do, right?]

(( OOC: Open post for all the kids young enough to be in elementary school! You know you want to come to your incompetent teacher's class~ Also, grownups can reply by journal, or even try to show up, if that's your thing. But be careful, someone might call the gendarmes if you don't have a good reason to be there... ))

Episode 84

[spongetastic.livejournal.com]

[good morning, Paradisa. Peter is already at work, reading the newspaper to the old lady he looks after. If anyone speaks French fluently, you may notice he's reading the sports page. Apparently the lady is a fan of football (aka soccer) ]

I'm going to go take your dog for a walk now, Madame Vasser. Don't skip ahead while I'm gone, okay?

[so if anyone's actually awake at this hour, you'll see Peter walking a little Yorkie around. AKA open post/journal]

sixteenth bite; and i do my little turn on the catwalk

[historyrepeater.livejournal.com]

Sorry if I haven't reached out yet. I found what I do here. Damon, you'll really appreciate this. I'm a model. Never mind my two degrees. Never mind that I went to Harvard. [ Granted, it was the 70's. But, still. Harvard. ] I've been booked nonstop since I ended up here.

( Mystic Falls minus Katherine )

What did everyone translate to in this reality? [ This... fake Paris. ]

( Bonnie Bennet )

Were your powers stripped?

( Elena Gilbert )

Paris is a big city. Forgive my not checking in right away. I got swept up in my... job here.

( Katherine Pierce )

Have you -- [ he's curious. how to word it. he can't exactly say 'gotten used to your heart beating' he pauses. ] Did you wake up here human? [ Not that she can be trusted. This is about curiosity. And not worry! He is not worried about Katherine. ]

~ thirty-sixth fairy tale

[too-fairytale.livejournal.com]

[backdated to yesterday morning, derp, what is "having a social life for 500, Alex"]

[Amy knows something's up the moment she yawns and stretches awake--she's very used to what her own bedding feels like by now, thank you very much, and she is not sleeping amongst her own bedding. It feels too... plush. And made of satin. And possibly velvet mixed in somewhere. Who *actually* sleeps on satin sheets?

She blinks her eyes open, and discovers that she and Rory (because yes, she knows what her own husband sleeping beside her feels like too) appear to be in... some sort of studio apartment. Top floor, too, because there are eaves. And it all looks very... decadent, in an old-world, Moulin Rouge sort of style. But it's definitely a modern apartment, because she can see the kitchenette over in a corner and it's got a four-ring stove and minifridge.

There's an answering machine on her bedside table, and the light is blinking on it. As warily as one can while still half-asleep, Amy pushes the button. A heavily-accented, lifetime-smoking woman's voice trills out of it]

"Cheriiiiiiiie, Monsieur Barnard has booked you for nine o'clock tomorrow night. He wants the usual. Good morning!

[*Click*. Amy stares. What the hell does that mean? And why are they in France?]

it resulted in sixteen blackouts (and one world change)

[notjamesbond.livejournal.com]

No. No, I can't do this. The castle can't do this to me.

[Hey, Paradisa. Recognize this worried voice? Why, it's none other than Newton Pulsifer, who doesn't seem to be enjoying the world change all that much. Let's find out why!]

An internet cafe? Really?! I've already had five computers go blue screen today, and I can barely understand anything any of the people are telling me...God, I should have spent more time learning French in school rather than focusing on electronics.

[A very frustrated sigh.]

Whoever decided I should be the owner of a bloody internet cafe obviously has no idea why that's a bad idea in the first place.

[ooc: VERY MUCH OPEN for kisses and whatnot! Come and help Newt with his absolute failure at being an internet cafe owner. Because technology hates the guy.]

An Artist's Abode

[valorandmettle.livejournal.com]

(( soundtrack ))

[ Birds were singing at a windowsill, the noise of their sweet song trickled in through the ajar glass, filling the room with sound and light. A few candels were flickering their last as the day broke, clear and crisp, the early morning sun beaming in a few shards of pale warmth. The sunshine inched across the room, illuminating each scribble on the wall, each half-finished drawing and finally settling on a man, laying face down, on a poorly dressed matress.

The man stirred, his breath a heavy sigh, waking now as if releasing himself from the slumber of ages. Dressed modestly in pain-stained clothes his pale, blond hair pulled back into a messy braid. Legolas began to feel again, the sensitivities in his fingers and toes returning, the numbing sensation of pins and needles tickling up his legs. His brow furrowed, his body felt heavy, weighted and stiff, a rather unfamiliar feeling for an Elf.

Legolas sat up with a start as he noticed his surroundings, the painted walls, the oddly shaped furniture and the piles of materials (clothes, paints, papers). Everything about this room was unknown to him but had an odd, familiar feel to it. Silently, he looked about himself and saw no one near by, none of his companions or foes were in here with him. But despite not having sensed any of his friends he could not stop himself from calling out to them in the hope that they would answer him. His voice was firm but gentle, clear as it penetrated the early morning songs of Pari. ]

Aragorn? Gimli?

Is anyone there?

[ But met only with the response of those twittering blackbirds Legolas knew for certain now that he was alone.

Finally he began to move, pulling himself to the edge of the bed he felt his head ache. The world was spinning, as he moved to stand it felt as though he had been plunged underwater. His balance off-set he stumbled to his feet and managed to clammor to a near by bookcase for support. ]

Ai! (Alas) What misfortune has fallen upon me now, my footing is uneven.

[ He cursed in his mother tongue, and glanced up to spot a looking glass, delicately balanced in front of him. Before anything else, he noticed the curved, round tops of his ears and stumbled back. Balance slowly returning he groped the tips of his ears nervously. A horrible feeling of dread washed over him and without a second thought he spotted the door to this artist's appartment and he headed for the exit. Where was he? What had happened to him? How fear and panic struck him as he stumbled out the front door and clumsily made his way down several flights of stairs. Hearing neighbours speaking in foreign tongues at him as he went.

He burst out of the the building's entrance and felt fear-stricken, grey eyes widen at the world around him. Metal carts moving without horses to pull them, men and women walking the streets with pained skin and revealing half of their bodies in exposing clothes, the babble of an unknown language washing over him. ]

Heren aica! (Bad luck!)

What land have I found myself in. And what has become of me?


[ooc: This is Legolas's first post! Be gentle with him! :D Everyone is welcome to try and calm down this nervous Elf man.]

[Dictated and dated tonight; Action for hospital]

[modernholmes.livejournal.com]

[Filtered to Ran]
My apologies, Ran.  It looks like I won't be able to make that meeting after all.  I had to make a stop at the hospital.
[/Filtered]

[Filtered to roommates, allies and acquaintances]
It appears I won't be making it back tonight.  Due to an incident I will be staying at Saint-Pierre Infirmerie for the night.  But there is no need to worry. 
[/Filtered]

[A few minutes later, after getting his injury treated and resigning himself to spending the night at the hospital,  Shinichi returns to the journal and begins to dictate a few further thoughts.]

I don't suppose anyone at the hospital has any spare books I could borrow.

[ooc: For this event Conan has been aged up to his real seventeen-year-old self.  He is also pretending to be a new arrival and a distant relative of Conan.]

- forty-fifth year waiting - (day shift at the hospital)

[nurse-boy.livejournal.com]

[so it's the second day in Paris and Rory is at work as a staff nurse in A&E at Saint-Pierre Infirmerie. He is seriously missing the relative slowness of working at Royal Leadworth; it's nothing like working in the emergency ward of a major city hospital. He feels rushed and overworked, constantly being directed to attend to this patient's arm laceration and that patient's fractured wrist, and could he please process the next ten patients on the arrival list, Brigitte is taking her lunch break. And to think he'd once wanted to work in an environment like this! Maybe he's just not used to it yet. He's trying his level best to be competent and professional though, and kind and reassuring, as he feels a good nurse should be. It really helps that he seems to have magically become fluent in French upon waking up here]

[open post! come one, come all, people with injuries or other employees at the hospital, and either bother or commiserate with the male nurse]

aḫu emādu | [Dictated]

[demonologist]

While being stranded in Paris of all places is a little disorienting, I have to admit that it's a rather large step up from our previous adventure on the high seas.

Has anyone else found employee credentials on them? I find it most intriguing that I apparently work at the Musée de l'Homme and that I'm a ranking member of the Ethnolinguistics department there. I haven't gone down to confirm that yet, but it's certainly preferable to being a fishmonger or pastry vendor.

The accommodations provided are quite satisfactory as well. At least this time I shan't be going days without hot running water or clean clothes. If anyone is in drastic need of shelter, please let me know, my couch seems to double as a futon.

(no subject)

[junescutie.livejournal.com]

( Yosuke )

Hm... [yeeeeep, guess who has been really distracted since yesterday?] H-Has anyone else seen people who used to be in the castle, but went home a long time ago? It happened before, when we were on boats? And last time, they didn't come back to the castle went we went back.

It'll be the same this time... right? [because that leads to a sad conclusion, that after the time here, they'll be gone again. But she shouldn't be selfish. both Ms. Lilith and Jacob were really happy when she saw them, and that makes her happy. so she tries to state that more as a question, without showing that the idea makes her sad. She... semi succeeds?]

Brr, it's cold...

[ooc: after she finishes talking on the journal, she's going to pack up her things and head back to Saucy Mansion #1, so anyone (random people or housemates) are free to run into her during her journey :')]

05-at the cafe

[heal-theworld.livejournal.com]

[Martel is staring at her personal journal. What was once just her thoughts and feelings is now full of other people, talking and writing. She actually can't make heads or tails of it, since they're talking about a Castle, and having just appeared in Paris. Some of it is making her head hurt, actually. She almost considers closing the journal or maybe checking herself into the hospital, since her journal is talking at her. But, something stops her before she considers that too much. Still, she has to do something, since she's sitting in a cafe and people are staring at her. So she walks outside with her tea and cinnamon bun, sits on the edge of a fountain outside the small cafe, and writes in elegant handwriting.]

Hello, I'm Martel Yggdrasil, who might all of you be?

[OOC: Returning character post, ahoy! Open to both action and over the journal.]

❀ quarante-huit statues de licorne pour mon appartement

[iamdamnloyal]

[Whoever thought that Harmony needed to be fluent in French was probably having a really rough morning, but even still - she's doing wonderfully in France. She's currently checking her journal while wandering around Bois de Boulogne.]

Désolé, je pense que c'est le mien. [She had dropped a slip of paper that had been tucked into her journal, but the gentleman was kind enough to pick it up and return it to her. Once she's out of earshot of the man, she addresses the journal.]

Everyone's okay, right? I mean, there was some confusion and a bit more unaware-ness, but we're all here and all limbs and body parts are here? Some more than others... [Sorry, Ponies.]

I'm actually really good at this being in Paris thing. I've already figured out how to get from my apartment to the shopping, and from shopping into Bois de Boulogne where I'm trying to figure out if I could take one of these workshops at Jardin d'acclimatation. They have bellydancing!

Does anyone want to get together tonight? I'm not even sure where everyone ended up and I don't think I can manage to just find everyone.


(ooc: open via journal or in the park!)

ii λ paris

[assassino]

[For those listening over the journals, this page is just a whole lot of wind and the sound of distant city hustling and bustling. Wherever Ezio is, he's high above the tourist hubbub, which is pretty audible. Then there's Ezio, dictated in that heavy Italian accent:]

This is quite the view. [Pause.] I thought it would be less obtrusive if I went at night, but, well...

[Why obtrusive? Well, anyone near the Eiffel Tower would see why –– Ezio is currently scaling the tower, without any harnesses or restraints. He's just got a pair of gloves, his jacket and his boots, with the journal ajar in his pocket. The crowd below is gawking and oh, great, police cars with sirens joining them. He's taking a break on a ledge, hence chattin' with the journal, and he's putting together what the flashing lights mean.]

Ah... this may have been a mistake. 




[ooc: Ezio is currently climbing the Eiffel Tower, because he wants to get a proper view of the city.]

(no subject)

[loveablecoward.livejournal.com]

[ Friends ]

How are you? I'm okay! I'm staying with Adachi and Remilia. I'm a police dog! :D

If you need help, I can help! I was in Paris before when an evil duck kidnapped Muriel in a hot-air balloon so I know the streets.



((ooc: anyone he's on friendly terms with so not Zelos can see the filter))

dix-huit ° written

[wittybaudelaire.livejournal.com]

[Violet can be found on a street corner, just writing in her journal.]

I've always wanted to visit Paris. I've always wanted to go anywhere. My parents did a lot of traveling when they were alive. I think it was for the group they were in. They liked learning things, and taught us the value in knowledge. Suppose it's a bit different than the Paris they knew.

If anyone would like to go exploring with me, I'd love to do so.

Vriska: Do the family thing.

[thiefoflight.livejournal.com]

[So, someone's doing the human adjusting thing.

Not only that, she's doing the whole adjusting to a family bit.

Who were these people anyway? She's only seen two of them before, and they weren't all that impressive to begin with. Pretty boring, if you would be so inclined to ask her.

But then again, she could say a little differently about their house. After all, it was pretty damn cozy, even if it was shared with some people she couldn't quite bring herself to care about. She'll just wait that part out, right?

Right.

Flopping down on a couch, Vriska simply reclines, sprawling over it like some sort of lardbeast.]

So, you guys can forget about trying to get me to go to that school thing! Just saying. That stuff's for losers!

<sub>(ooc. OPEN to anyone in the TRISTA SOCKET household-- YEYEYEYEYEYEYEYE!

Hell, if you want to say her journal was open to catch this, it can be heard over the journals too WHATEVER WHATEVER.)</sub>

ten meatbuns -dictated-

[goldencirclet.livejournal.com]

[Filtered to... everyone, since his 'Santa Claus' filter fails so bad.]

Dear Mister Santa Claus!

This guy told me ya give out presents an' stuff. I was gonna write a letter an' put in his box, but now we ain't in the castle any more, so I hope ya can hear me anyway.

I'm safe an' I'm happy, so I don't need anything. Can ya give gifts to my friends instead?

Can ya tell Konzen I'm not dead an' I'll come back as soon as I can?
Can ya give Ten-chan a new library, since he burned his down t'save us?
I think Ken-nii-chan will be happy with a lotta wine an' girls an' seein' Ten-chan happy.

And fer Nataku... um... I dun remember what happened any more, but I hope he's safe. Can ya tell him my name? It's all I ever wanted, cuz' he's my first friend.

[Pause.]

Um... an' fer my friends in the castle... art things fer Nora so she can make a lotta pretty things, an' maybe a movie fer Mark that he's never seen? Maybe the Doctor would like another bow thing? It's pretty cool, but I gotta think about it.

Maybe a detective glass thing that makes thing real big fer Conan? An' Hiccup...let Hiccup have Snoggletog an' give him loads of coal so he can draw more an' get his loss back!

...an' Apollo. Can ya make it so he can see his daughter? I think he'd like that.

If ya can't make anythin' of this happen... I'll find a way.

(no subject)

[dupable.livejournal.com]

[ So John's had a slightly problem here. What is that problem? Well, the problem is that he doesn't speak a word of French! Okay, that's an exaggeration, he knows how to say "Merci", and fortunately for him most of the people around him know enough English to help point him in the right direction. Unfortunately for him, he's misunderstood a lot of what they've been telling him, and overshooting their directions.

So not only has he used up all his metro passes, but he doesn't have any euros on him right now, because he was pick-pocketed earlier when he stupidly wandered over to a woman asking him if he'd dropped something on the ground. Basically John is shit out of luck, and he has no idea where he is, or how to get back to where he's staying

So as he stands in the middle of a very small grassy park area, peering through the dark, he opens up his journal and just has one message. ]

I need some help!

((OOC. Open like an open thing :) Or over the journals!))

002 action | dictated

[alwaysaquestion.livejournal.com]

[Renee is lounging at her desk in the Question Inc. Detective Agency. She has a pen in hand that she's idly twirling around and her journal is opened in front of her. Off to the side she has two stacks of folders labeled 'Solved' or 'Open'. The agency was currently empty, but the clock told her she should be expecting her co-workers soon. She sighs and leans over her journal.]

So, we're in Paris. I'm going to with hold my disbelief long enough to let you all know I'm now, apparently, in ownership of a detective agency, Question Inc. We solve anything from missing pets to missing children. If anyone is looking for a job, we could really use a secretary and someone with amazing computer skills. All you have to do is drop by and talk to either me, or my partner Charlie.

For those of you who might be potential clients, we're open from eight-thirty a.m. to five p.m., unless you schedule a later appointment. We're located [insert random business district here.]

[She flips the journal closed and straightens up the items on her desk. She wasn't normally that concerned about looking neat, but this was her first day and first impressions usually stick.]

[ooc: This is open to all employees and possible clients. Interact, come up with cases, harass the workers to your hearts content.]

twentieth negotiations; dictated

[succubitch]

Whoever's running the castle? Good job on this choice. Paris is much better than a lot of places you could have chosen.

But perhaps the best part of this is getting to work again. It's no Wolfram and Hart (though I imagine if we were in the real Paris, they have a branch there) but it'll do. It's my own firm, and I seem to be making enough money to support a rather nice private apartment.

I think this might even beat that cruise ship.

[Lilah probably sounds more cheerful than she has in a long time. She can't help it. Work gives her purpose, something she's sorely missed in Paradisa.]

97.5 - chewing gum fraise

[hard-talker.livejournal.com]

[anyone wandering around Montmartre around, oh, let's say TEN PM - will find a teen chilling bundled up with a boombox. no Leonard Cohen this week - instead you get something ridiculously catchy and French bopping out of the speakers.

as Mark chills at a cafe table, nearby, Nora's sitting in the light from said cafe with an easel, a box of pastels, and a fresh supply of paper. a colorful sign propped on the back of the easel says PORTRAITS in big, bold letters, and there's a hat at her feet]

Heeeeeeey, welkommen, bienvenue, welcome, et cetera! It's yours truly, 'Arry le Dur, comin' at you with a big, sloppy wet French broadcast from the art center of Paris! That's right, the show goes on!

I know some of you are going absolutely apeshit about whatever job you rolled outta bed to find yourself stuck with, but think of it this way: at least you didn't wake up with fuckin' homework. Which, uh, yeah, no, I am not doing. What's French for "fuck school"?!

[this elicits a very loud whoop of encouragement from Nora]

So hey, if you've got a job you don't like, you know what I say? SHOVE IT! Throw your bills in the Seine, stick your school books on the subway tracks! This is fucking PARIS! At Christmas!!! I say we earned ourselves a fucking vacation, let's all GO NUTS! Even our poor confused newbies, Love and Remilia. We also have a guy who showed up in the journals TODAY, so ... Serious sympathy cards can be sent along with coping mechanisms of your choice to Legolas.

And hey, just because we're in Paris, don't think I'm gonna get off your asses about keeping the sheep-vibes at bay! We've got an emergency plan in the works, but it still needs floor captains! Go check it out on [page number]. It's filtered, so nobody who shouldn't see it will be able to, just in case any of the First Gens or their traitor buddies are wandering around the city, too.

But hey, if you're anywhere near Montmartre, come say hi. Seriously, this place is the shit. The cafes have great food, the music's badass, and Nora's doing portraits if you want one for whoever's on your Christmas list.

[and the boy speaks the truth. come and hang out with the kids and their artistic rebellious sensibilities! it isn't Paris until you get your bohemian on!]

007 || dictated; (backdated to earlier this afternoon)

[workaphilic.livejournal.com]

[Someone is not adapting to these new careers very well.

Sherlock's keeping his journal in his pocket, but it (naturally) jostles open just enough to catch him arguing with a woman in rapid, heated French. For those of you adept enough in the language to keep up, he might be deriding her intelligence in increasingly creative ways and she might be threatening to go find his supervisor.

His French is flawless, but there are moments where he seems to stumble a little, when his loss prevents him from offhandedly mentioning that the woman's purebred borzoi is actually a very fortunate-looking mutt, or that perhaps she should be more concerned with her best friend's severe gambling problem. But he barrels through each one like he's in the running for a gold medal at the Douchelympics.

Finally, he seems to get fed-up, and he switches abruptly out of French.]

You've hands, don't you? Then there you are, there's the door, work it yourself. It's a difficult contraption, to be sure, but if you rack your brain I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out. Bonne journée.

[And with that he'll blatantly abandon his post, stalking off down the street in a huff.

... At least he tried?]

((Open over the journal, on the street, or just outside Hotel Imladris! Not strictly a kissing post, but if you wanna get your mack on WHO AM I TO STOP YOU.))

Thirty Eighth

[mademyownpath.livejournal.com]

[So, John has settled into his job and new living conditions as well as you can when you're suddenly SOMEWHERE ELSE. But for now, he's taken a break to go and view a famous certain landmark. He's standing in front of the tower, not paying any attention to the people staring at a freaking cowboy in the middle of their modern day city. After a while of looking, he opens his journal to dictate into it]

When I was a boy, I heard about them building this Eiffel Tower for the World's Fair. They'd made such a big deal about it, I always wondered what was so special about the thing.

Never imagined a street kid like me would ever get to this foreign place to see it with my own eyes. Guess Paradisa proved me wrong. [Pause] Sure is big.

[[OOC: Journal or open to anyone at the Eiffel Tower]]

ƒ007. an american slayer in paris

[msattentionspan]

So... not everyone got the language upgrade and I'm staring at food in this mini fridge wondering what half of it is.

[Yeah, she's been staring at a box of something for an hour now trying to figure out if it's snails or if it just has a picture of a cartoon snail on it.]

Isn't all the food we have in America some knock-off of something French? Is it just called toast here?

Sleigh Rides Together with You

[peacockherald.livejournal.com]

[Vanyel is traveling up one of the larger tourists section of France, his Cinderalla-coach style carriage flowing along behind, a glittering bit of white and soft lights. His mare was pulling it along, a shining creature of white with her flowing mane and tail, braided with light blue ribbons. Around her legs she wore boots attached with jingle bells, so each step was a musical chime.

Vanyel sat atop the carriage on the seat, reigns in his hands, his dark hair brush to an equal shine as his mare and pulled into a neat queue. He was dressed in a neat casual suit complete with cravat, a pin on his lapel showing a winged horse taking flight. To be honest he was not to pleased with this, but at least it was letting him see the city and he could keep near Yfandes to make sure she remained all right. The Castle had done something when they came to Paris, and he was less than pleased. She was to much like a real horse. It unnerved him.

But all the same, he clucked his tongue and gently snapped the reigns. She whinnied and picked up her pace, trotting lightly, tail raised prettily behind her, indeed making the whole ensemble look like a magical ride from Cinderella.]

[ooc: You can pick him up for hire to go around Paris or catch him when he is waiting at spots for customers - like at a hotel, near a club, a park, etc. Pretty much anything since he is going around Paris tonight. Have fun! Also, if you realize why Cinderella is appropriate for Paris, you win a cookie.]

(no subject)

[eternityalone]

Who: Katherine and Neal
What: Conversations tubside. Katherine is in a bubble bath. Neal is not.
Where: The bathroom of the loft they are sharing. In Paris.
When: Monday evening.


( Bubbles. Offenbach. Wine. Well, wine on the way. )

.32 Looking for a chauffeur?

[hesam-bb.livejournal.com]

[If you're out and about in the street you'll see Hesam, adjusting his leather gloves and leaning back against a limousine, looking irritated. It's probably not doing well for business but hey, what're ya gonna do?

Luckily he seems to know French but his pronounciation is terrible and definitely going to annoy anyone who can speak it fluently.]

Oh yeah, real funny. I get it. I'm laughing on the inside, Castle. Really. I am.

second dream

[flailingfelt.livejournal.com]

Hi-ho, everyone, Kermit the Frog here. In, uh, Paris. Does this happen a lot? ... I guess waking up as a human isn't so bad once you look around and realize you're a human with your own theatre.

[there's a lot of rustling over the journal as Kermit rummages through the closet in his office]

Okay, so I had a note on my desk that said that Henri LaGrosse can't come in and do the big number, so I'm supposed to wear the outfit and fill in... even though I'm the host. ... I guess this place has a tight budget. Hm. Not so different from home.

[more rummaging ... and then the frog FINDS said outfit. loudly:]

OH WHAT THE HEY.

... Uh ...

Anybody here sing opera? Or, uh, have any kinda talent whatsoever? I could use a guest star ... 'cuz I'm definitely not wearing this.

(no subject)

[scattare.livejournal.com]

[The first thing the journal will pick up is a loud, rumbling noise. It shakes the panes of glass next to her lightly, and the voices of quite a lot of people milling about.

The young woman for her part, is turning in circles in the lobby with wide, disbelieving eyes. Eventually she speaks, with a heavy Italian accent]

Where am I? [A pause]

...Mother?

80 Swords in the Stone

[excalibured.livejournal.com]

[Arthur hates this place. It's not particularly unusual, because there's been lots [read: every] place in Paradisa that he's been sent to that he's found something to dislike about it. Paris is a modern city, which is the biggest strike. It's also loud and busy, with flashing lights and more of those infernal cars, though he's learned enough not to attack them. He's not prepared to spend a night in jail, no matter how much of a death trap they are.

So he's dressed in modern clothing, as that's all he's been given to wear, appropriate for the weather, standing on a curb waiting for the light to change. He's wearing a set of shades, despite the time of evening due to the fact that he's had it pointed out just how badly he hides that one of his eyes no longer functions. And he's staring, with an eyebrow coolly arched at a man doing an imitation of...

He's not sure, actually. He's dressed in what looks like imitation metal, painted in metallic colours and making sounds that remind him of whenever Timcanpy gets a hold of the remote control.

What. The. Hell.]

[[ooc: open for kissing, or just chatting, or mutual blank staring at the robot guy]]