Ruby City Application
Apr. 17th, 2013 09:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alwaysinlovePLAYER
Name: Allison-Marie
Personal Journal: None. CrowWitch on Plurk
E-mail: VictorianBeauty at gmail dot com
AIM/MSN/etc: AIM TheDerelictAngel
CHARACTER
Name: First, Last (Western order) Jean Prouvaire
Canon: Les Miserables
Timeline: Immediately before his death by firing squad, after being captured by the French National Guard.
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: N/A I do not have another character in the game.
Personality: Jean Provaire is a little bit different than the other members of Les Amis de l’ABC. He has a passionate heart that shows great love for his fellow men, and even greater sorrow for the fate of those suffering in poverty. But, he is a gentle soul, with a quieter, more thoughtful and spiritual nature than the others. He’s artistic, sensitive, and shy. But, at the same time, he has a fearless nature that is equal to anyone at the barricade.
It’s stated that he is the only son of a wealthy family. He is also a student. Like a lot of educated young men living in Paris in the day, he would have been literate and would probably speak one or two other languages, the most likely being English as there was a lot of travel between London and Paris.
Jean is described as a spiritual person. He prays, meditates, and considers matters of God and religion. In conversations with his comrades, Jean seems just as well versed in ancient Pagan mythology as he is in Christian mythology. He reads, studies, and is often thoughtful. And, it would seem that his interest in the revolution comes from a spiritual interest in elevating the suffering of others. Compassion seems to be his driving force.
As has been mentioned, Jean reads voraciously. Mythology to Philosophy to simple works of fiction, he seems to have read most everything. Hugo describes him as preferring the epic and the grandiose in literature. He also writes poetry of his own. His love of the art is not limited to literature. He also plays the flute, and dearly loves a pot of flowers that he tends to simply because they are beautiful. And for Jean, art and beauty seem to have a spirituality all their own. He could just as easily pray in a field of flowers as a church.
Romanticism is also Jean’s. He’s said to always be in love. However, Hugo is suspiciously vague on who the object of his affection is. It would therefore seem that he often loves for its own sake. He loves all of humankind and is willing to risk and ultimately give his life for it. And yet, I do believe he holds romantic attachment to individual women as well. It is unlikely though that he ever acts upon it and It seems that he loves from afar. Given his thoughtful and dreamy nature, this seems to suit him.
Jean Prouvaire is shy. He is described as speaking quietly, laughing nervously, and blushing easily. But you shouldn’t mistake shyness for cowardice. While he normally speaks gently, when impassioned his voice can suddenly become powerful and masculine. Hugo leaves little room to doubt Prouvaire’s bravery. When the French National Guard catches him, he faces his execution by firing squad with a powerful cry of “Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!” or “Long live France! Long live the future!”
First Person:
[Jean Prouvaire knew that he should feel afraid. The rational part of his mind knew that this was no afterlife. No paradise. There was too much decay. It looked more like the barricade than heaven to him. And yet, he could not help but press on with fascination marked in his eyes, like a child who is too innocent for fear and can only look at the world in wonder.]
Hello?
[He calls, and listens for a reply. He uses English, because that was the only language on the sign that he recognized and could read. It does seem funny to him that heaven would be English.
Even though this didn't seem like heaven, he could not think of another explanation. The last thing he could remember before getting off the train was… well… He places his hand on his chest and let his heart say a prayer for what he left behind.
He felt cold metal through his shirt and remembered the sign. He’d checked his fob and watch chain and found nothing, so he’d dismissed the sign as nonsense. The strange thing on his wrist wasn’t what he would call a watch, but he recognizes the face. A feeling of making progress washes over him, and it's with a smile that he began to push the buttons.]
Hello? Can anyone hear me?
[He asks, using English again, colored with a rich French accent.]
Third Person:
“Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!”
The scream echoed through the cars of the train. The voice was strong. The boy in the seat sat frozen a tense for a moment and then exhaled. There was no shot. No explosion of gunpowder, just a steady rattle that he couldn't identify.
Prouvaire opened one eye, and then the other.
His eyes went wide, searching, seeking, and his mouth went slack. He groped at his chest. He could feel no pain or find any wound. He was still dirty, his nails were black and his cloths still reeked of gunpowder and sweat. It seemed very... earthly. Still, no alternative presented itself. He had passed through death and found himself on the other side.
Meditating on the afterlife had been a great pastime for Prouvaire. Often had he sought some divine insight into what would happen after his death. Hours had been spent studying the works of religious leaders and philosophers, not to mention his own prayers and contemplation.
He had never considered a train.
For now he knew what the rhythmic sound was. Trains were not unfamiliar to the young man. He'd seen locomotives before. But, there was nothing else about the vehicle that he could identify or recognize. Somehow, though, he didn't mind it. Abruptly he was jostled as the train began to stop, and his weight was thrown askew.
He could feel himself smiling as he found the door and got off the station. There was no fear or distress, only welcome for the adventure that lay ahead in whatever space God had created and commended his soul to. He felt light as he stepped off the train and felt the evening air on his fresh young cheeks.
He couldn't read the signs right away. They weren't in French. Yet, he quickly noticed the condition of his surroundings and began to reconsider their importance. He went back, studying the words until he recognized the English.
His hands went to his watch fob, but he found no watch there. He shrugged and walked away from the sign.
With a cock of his head, he brushed off his trousers with the flat of his hands, and began to explore.
Name: Allison-Marie
Personal Journal: None. CrowWitch on Plurk
E-mail: VictorianBeauty at gmail dot com
AIM/MSN/etc: AIM TheDerelictAngel
CHARACTER
Name: First, Last (Western order) Jean Prouvaire
Canon: Les Miserables
Timeline: Immediately before his death by firing squad, after being captured by the French National Guard.
If playing another character from the same canon, how will you deal with this?: N/A I do not have another character in the game.
Personality: Jean Provaire is a little bit different than the other members of Les Amis de l’ABC. He has a passionate heart that shows great love for his fellow men, and even greater sorrow for the fate of those suffering in poverty. But, he is a gentle soul, with a quieter, more thoughtful and spiritual nature than the others. He’s artistic, sensitive, and shy. But, at the same time, he has a fearless nature that is equal to anyone at the barricade.
It’s stated that he is the only son of a wealthy family. He is also a student. Like a lot of educated young men living in Paris in the day, he would have been literate and would probably speak one or two other languages, the most likely being English as there was a lot of travel between London and Paris.
Jean is described as a spiritual person. He prays, meditates, and considers matters of God and religion. In conversations with his comrades, Jean seems just as well versed in ancient Pagan mythology as he is in Christian mythology. He reads, studies, and is often thoughtful. And, it would seem that his interest in the revolution comes from a spiritual interest in elevating the suffering of others. Compassion seems to be his driving force.
As has been mentioned, Jean reads voraciously. Mythology to Philosophy to simple works of fiction, he seems to have read most everything. Hugo describes him as preferring the epic and the grandiose in literature. He also writes poetry of his own. His love of the art is not limited to literature. He also plays the flute, and dearly loves a pot of flowers that he tends to simply because they are beautiful. And for Jean, art and beauty seem to have a spirituality all their own. He could just as easily pray in a field of flowers as a church.
Romanticism is also Jean’s. He’s said to always be in love. However, Hugo is suspiciously vague on who the object of his affection is. It would therefore seem that he often loves for its own sake. He loves all of humankind and is willing to risk and ultimately give his life for it. And yet, I do believe he holds romantic attachment to individual women as well. It is unlikely though that he ever acts upon it and It seems that he loves from afar. Given his thoughtful and dreamy nature, this seems to suit him.
Jean Prouvaire is shy. He is described as speaking quietly, laughing nervously, and blushing easily. But you shouldn’t mistake shyness for cowardice. While he normally speaks gently, when impassioned his voice can suddenly become powerful and masculine. Hugo leaves little room to doubt Prouvaire’s bravery. When the French National Guard catches him, he faces his execution by firing squad with a powerful cry of “Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!” or “Long live France! Long live the future!”
First Person:
[Jean Prouvaire knew that he should feel afraid. The rational part of his mind knew that this was no afterlife. No paradise. There was too much decay. It looked more like the barricade than heaven to him. And yet, he could not help but press on with fascination marked in his eyes, like a child who is too innocent for fear and can only look at the world in wonder.]
Hello?
[He calls, and listens for a reply. He uses English, because that was the only language on the sign that he recognized and could read. It does seem funny to him that heaven would be English.
Even though this didn't seem like heaven, he could not think of another explanation. The last thing he could remember before getting off the train was… well… He places his hand on his chest and let his heart say a prayer for what he left behind.
He felt cold metal through his shirt and remembered the sign. He’d checked his fob and watch chain and found nothing, so he’d dismissed the sign as nonsense. The strange thing on his wrist wasn’t what he would call a watch, but he recognizes the face. A feeling of making progress washes over him, and it's with a smile that he began to push the buttons.]
Hello? Can anyone hear me?
[He asks, using English again, colored with a rich French accent.]
Third Person:
“Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!”
The scream echoed through the cars of the train. The voice was strong. The boy in the seat sat frozen a tense for a moment and then exhaled. There was no shot. No explosion of gunpowder, just a steady rattle that he couldn't identify.
Prouvaire opened one eye, and then the other.
His eyes went wide, searching, seeking, and his mouth went slack. He groped at his chest. He could feel no pain or find any wound. He was still dirty, his nails were black and his cloths still reeked of gunpowder and sweat. It seemed very... earthly. Still, no alternative presented itself. He had passed through death and found himself on the other side.
Meditating on the afterlife had been a great pastime for Prouvaire. Often had he sought some divine insight into what would happen after his death. Hours had been spent studying the works of religious leaders and philosophers, not to mention his own prayers and contemplation.
He had never considered a train.
For now he knew what the rhythmic sound was. Trains were not unfamiliar to the young man. He'd seen locomotives before. But, there was nothing else about the vehicle that he could identify or recognize. Somehow, though, he didn't mind it. Abruptly he was jostled as the train began to stop, and his weight was thrown askew.
He could feel himself smiling as he found the door and got off the station. There was no fear or distress, only welcome for the adventure that lay ahead in whatever space God had created and commended his soul to. He felt light as he stepped off the train and felt the evening air on his fresh young cheeks.
He couldn't read the signs right away. They weren't in French. Yet, he quickly noticed the condition of his surroundings and began to reconsider their importance. He went back, studying the words until he recognized the English.
His hands went to his watch fob, but he found no watch there. He shrugged and walked away from the sign.
With a cock of his head, he brushed off his trousers with the flat of his hands, and began to explore.
