Parisstuck
The Beginning of Something Really Excellent
==BE THE ILLUSTRATOR
Your name is Nepeta Leijon. You are a young and vibrant girl living in Paris, working as an ILLUSTRATOR. It is an absolutely enthralling job! You get to draw VIBRANT SCENES of all your favorite NOVELS—especially those of ROMANTIC AFFAIRS. You find the interactions of two destined lovers to quite possibly be the most interesting things that ever could be read.
Along with your line of work, you are absolutely obsessed with, well, PEOPLE! Their LIVES AND TRAVELS are always so interesting to you. It's like reading a unique book every time, and there are never any clichés; the experiences are always original. It offers great inspiration for your ILLUSTRATIONS!
Speaking of all of this reading that you do, it just so happens that you have finished your picture for the day! With a final stroke of your pencil, the work is complete, and you are now free to enjoy your day as you so please! Stowing away your pencils in the cup they can call home, you hop from your seat and towards the door, swinging it open and stepping outside, locking the door behind you.
You happen to live near the inner city—and though there's plenty of trash around, not to mention tourists, you honestly don't mind! It's actually bustling with plenty of people who are fun to talk to and just to listen to, sometimes! You make it a point to always find someone truly interesting on your daily walk.
As you head out, you can feel your dress flutter a bit from the warm spring breeze. The sun is rather bright today, you note, and there's not a cloud in the sky. Heading onwards, you take your usual twists and turns towards the Champ de Mars, where the thickest crowds can most certainly be found.
Upon reaching it, you are greeted with the usual sights and sounds: the chatter of tourists, the occasional laughter from an entertaining crowd, and the gasps of awe at the visible tower. Going along your merry way, something unfamiliar catches your ear. Every so often, yes, it certainly came along, but not like this! It was that sweet, sweet sound of strings. The wooden instrument that narrated the mood of nearly every love story!
Hearing the sounds of a wonderful violin, your feet pivot on their own, headed towards the music that floated through the air. Each vibration of the strings was like a dream of its own coming into the world. You carefully step through the crowd, listening to the violinist. As you make your way to the front, you get a nice, long look at him.
Wispy ginger hair, all brushed into strange waves and ways, and a long-sleeve shirt that nearly impaired his playing. He has a red and black color scheme, you note, complete with the black dress pants he's wearing. His face looked to accentuate the dark colors with its focused expression, almost as if he was angry at the violin. Nonetheless, each and every note fell into place neatly and orderly.
Distracted by him for a moment, this musician of extraordinary skill, you decide to pick up one of the posters he has lying around him. It appears there will be a show tonight which he will be participating in! You'll have to find out who he is then, you suppose. You can guess he isn't 'Rox E., though!
Now ensnared by the wonderful sounds this freckled redhead is making, you decide to take a seat, waiting for him to finish.
==NEPETA: BE THE VIOLINIST
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and quite frankly, you are getting tired of playing this VIOLIN. Yes, sure, it was your dream—that's why you came to Paris. You planned to follow in the footsteps of the ever mysterious FAMOUS VIOLINIST.
==KARKAT: BE FAMOUS VIOLINIST
You buffoon! It doesn't just work that way. You need to practice, practice, practice, not to mention put on a show. This show may be like the one you are performing at tonight, which is at the ever-luxurious and incredibly fancy MOULIN ROUGE and HOLY SHIT that place is fancy.
It just so happens that you've managed to get an act there—your talent isn't very well-known, but those who have seen your performances know that Karkat Vantas will be the name passing everyone's lips when the violin-based apocalypse comes, or at least that of the FAMOUS VIOLINIST. And if not, the world will suffer a terrible, terrible hollow-wood fate.
As you finish the last notes of the piece you were performing, you lighten up on your TRUSTY BOW. The resulting sound wavers in the air, there and yet fading, the note like a dream in limbo. As it exits the air, the crowd bursts into applause. You try not to smile and give your bows. The flyers by your feet begin to get snatched away. A girl next to you seems to have already taken quite the interest before you stopped playing—perhaps you'll see her tonight. As a matter of fact, she looks rather fancy. Enough that she could probably attend, what with her flowing green dress and her strange blue headpiece, and—
"THAT. Was amazing, brother."
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and suddenly, you are not as comfortable as you were before. You slowly turn around, putting your violin into rest position. There is a street performer grabbing your shoulder. His hair is rather messy and you find yourself wondering when the last time this man bathed was. By the looks of his white makeup and small accents of color here and there, you assume he is a clown.
"…Yeah, thanks. Get off of me." You were never one to beat around the bush, really. It was always straight to the point.
"No, brother, seriously that was…some amaaazing shit right there." The performer moves his hands to accentuate the 'amazingness' taking place. You will not lie, you are kind of scared. You pack up your violin case and walk away—damnit, what? He's still following you. Shit, shit shit—
==KARKAT: BE THE BAKER
Your name is TAVROS NITRAM. You are a BAKER of many SWEETS and PASTRIES in your store, NITRAM SWEETS. Although you cannot navigate your small kitchen with ease due to an ACCIDENT that caused you to lose the ability to walk, you still enjoy serving your many customers the treats you get up early to bake every morning.
Your store is in a constant but healthy struggle with a candy store across the way, owned by a SOUR CONFECTIONER. She is rather scary sometimes, yes, but you can't help but like her just a bit. She helps out sometimes when you've got the SNIFFLES and whanot.
You wheel around your kitchen, stoves lining one wall, lines of baked goods on nearly every other. You make sure that each one of those little pastries is baked with a good cup or two of LOVE. That's right. After all, they'd taste sour otherwise! As you're admiring your handiwork, the bell attached to your door rings. You have a customer!
You raise your head, and then your hand, a smile spreading across your face.
"Oh, hey, Nepeta!" You wave enthusiastically to your all-too-familiar customer. "The usual?"
"Oh, of course!" You assume she didn't come here for sweets by the surprised look on her face. She must be here for some other reasons. "I just saw the most amazing violin player—and he looked so…so…"
"Cute?" You suggest, teasing her as you box up her favorite cake and ring up the usual four Euros for her.
"Yes, yes, that's it!" You didn't expect to be correct on that one, honestly. "And he's playing at the Moulin Rouge tonight—I'd feel a bit strange going alone, so I wanted to ask if you'd come!"
You're completely flattered. Not many people invite the guy in a wheelchair to special events. However, you now remember why: because it's relatively hard to get into places, and because the guy in the wheelchair has an important job to do.
"Sorry, Nepeta, I…well, I, uh, kind of have to get up early tomorrow. I can't afford to get up late, otherwise I'll be serving yesterday's stale stuff—and that's never very good." You shake your head. "Sorry…" You feel like you let her down—after all, you're probably the only one who would come on such short notice.
"Ah, no, no, it's alright! I'll go alone, be just fine." She leans over the counter to hug you and stroke your dark brown hair for a moment. She always liked affectionate gestures like that. Handing over the money, she grabs the box and backs off, waving. "I'll see you around, alright, Tavros?"
"Of course!" You call back. Hopefully something will happen on an off day. But until then, you're stuck behind this counter, you guess. It's not all bad. It could be worse.
==TAVROS: BE THE GUY WHO HAS IT WORSE
You bust through the door of some fancy looking little bakery and duck below the window line. You can hear someone dash past and a horn honk nearby, then the voice of someone yelling 'brother'. You sigh as the noise fades.
It is only then you notice the poor store owner staring at you from behind the counter.
"Can I…uh, help you, uh, sir…?" He seems rather nervous, which is understandable. He has something of a mohawk, although it isn't spiked up. You think it looks a bit nicer than if it was, actually. However, you still find the whole 'mohawk guy being nervous' thing a bit funny, so you stifle a laugh before regaining your manners.
"Yeah, this is a bakery, right?" You look around at the sweets on every wall. God, some of these are fucking sickening—holy shit, how much fucking sugar went into that one? Is that a fucking maraschino cherry? Wait, no, you kind of like those, but it's sprinkled with sugar? Oh god, your stomach. "Just…" Your stomach grumbles a bit, and you look down. Maybe this would be good for desert, but it's just about lunchtime. "Just give me some sugar cookies or some shit. Two."
You hear the clerk behind the desk rustle for the cookies, and you get out your money. Approaching the counter, you look up, and for a moment, the clerk stops, and just stares at you with his huge chocolate brown eyes, and you quirk a brow.
"What?"
As soon as you say this, he mumbles a sorry, his face tinting a bit pink as he scrapes together your order again, handing you your change and giving you the food. You sigh, turning around, done with this place for now—you just want to get back home. You're almost out the door, when—
"Hey…you're playing at…uh…the Moulin Rouge tonight, right? You're that violinist." He still seems shaken up from your entrance.
"Yeah, I am. Hoo-ray." You say, just wanting to go take a nap before you have to prepare. You step outside the door, the bell ringing behind you. You still feel his eyes on your back, and you have the strangest feeling he'll be there now.
==KARKAT: ENJOY CAKE
What? That's absolutely absurd. You don't have any cake. Nepeta does, though.
==KARKAT: BE NEPETA
You've just gotten home, and the sun is beginning to tip towards the western skies, so you make quick work of your dessert. You clean up quite neatly and throw the box away in a very space-conscious manner, crushing the box flat. Immediately upon discarding your litter, you race to your CLOSET to see what in the world you'll wear tonight.
You see dresses of all sorts and types—but not one that is quite FANCY enough. You narrow your eyes—the smell of fashion adventure is in the air. All residents of this fine city know what trip must be taken when one has nothing to wear.
At least, you do.
You find yourself outside the door of MERRY MARYAM'S, a favorite place to go. The owner there, Kanaya Maryam, can whip up a dress in an hour or two with tact and style. Not only that, but she also has plenty of novels to recommend and has plenty of gardening tips as well! Stepping inside, a fancy little electronic chime goes off.
"Oh? Who's there?" The constant whirring of a sewing machine slows to a halt, and you step forward, waving to Kanaya, who is situated in the back. "Oh, Nepeta, it's been so long!" She races up to you, kissing both of your cheeks rather forcefully. You giggle a bit, shoving her away playfully.
"Stop, stop!" You try to regain your composure. "Well I would hope your other dresses would last for a while—seeing a customer again is usually a bit bad, isn't it?" You and she both exchange a girlish giggle. "Okay, but anyways, in all seriousness, I need a dress for tonight! And not just anything, something…fancy, but not too much glamour. Maybe something simple, but…elegant, I guess?"
"Yes, yes, I understand entirely." She mumbles to herself, furrowing her brow. She always got like this when she was concentrating. "Let's see…black? Yes, always a good color for fancy." She turns to you, expression unchanged. "Occasion?"
"I'm going to the Moulin Rouge for dinner and a show. No date, no date. Don't need to worry about impressing a partner!" You have a feeling Kanaya would try to…accentuate some features for a male suitor.
"Oh, yes, yes, I see it—it's all coming together very well." She closes her eyes, and runs to grab a piece of paper. You stand there for a few moments, watching her as she comes back, drawing furiously. You know to be patient with her. Genius must not be rushed. "Here!" She exclaims, smiling, and points at the paper. "Does this seem suitable?"
You look at the paper—it's a mess of notes and scribbles, but you trust her so much, you say it.
"Yes, of course!" You know she'll get it right. "Thank you so much—I'll pay for it when I see it, right?"
"Of course, of course—if you'll excuse me, I need to get started. There are a lot of orders for tonight that I need to get done quickly." She doesn't mean to shoo you out, but you know it's for the best. Stepping outside, you give a wave back to her and blow a playful kiss. She catches it and pockets it mockingly. Again, you both giggle, and you head back home.
==NEPETA: BE THE FASHION DESIGNER.
Your name is KANAYA MARYAM. You are a FASHION DESIGNER, SEAMSTRESS, and some even refer to you as a MIRACLE WORKER. You can grow perfect plants, sew perfect outfits, and most importantly, help perfect people. You are the owner of a dress shop called MERRY MARYAM'S, a clever little name you thought of when you moved here.
You aspire to be a renowned FASHION DESIGNER, using your friends as MODELS to test your work on various body types. Hopefully, you'll make it someday soon. But for today, you're going to take it easy by seeing a show tonight, namely the one Nepeta is also attending. After you finish these dresses, that is. You have Nepeta's dress all planned out, but orders from others are still waiting to be filled.
Sitting down, you begin to sew furiously, but pause a split second when there is a knock on the window. There's a knock three times, then four. You smile gently, and beckon her in, making a motion with your hand.
A young Asian woman walks in, many books in hand, and as she does so, she flips the sign from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED'. She smiles and rushes to sit next to you.
"Oh, Kanaya, you'll never guess what I learned today!"
"Go on, Aradia, you've caught my interest."
You have a feeling this will be a most pleasant evening.