paper cities burning

[collector]

Characters: Braxiatel and anyone ever. It's an open log! Tag in! Join in origami art!!
Location: The Astral Plane. Somewhere near food, probably.
Time: After Narvin has been made into a wee-bitty thing. Before the hypothetical future where Braxiatel jumps into a ravine because he hates babysitting.
Summary: Braxiatel needs to do something in his spare time. This is it.
Warnings: Origami awesomeness.

Among the stars and spaces between them, free of the heavy weight of unease that had haunted the Plane, a man was putting his supreme talents in dexterity and mathematical genius to use by making art out of folded paper. Or to put it more simply, Irving Braxiatel was going slightly mad playing the babysitter and so had resorted to origami to try to keep himself sane.

He had begun with a few simple flowers and had quickly gotten sick with the mundanity. That was how the paper model of the Palace of Versailles had ended up at his feet. Then, when he had gotten bored with that, he crafted for himself origami warriors, the grand life-sized sazu game pieces that once were placed in the floating tombs of the Deathless Emperors of Draconia, that they may battle one another in their sleeping death.

Presently, Braxiatel was putting the finishing touch on Nelson's battleship. He had done a fairly good job of representing the Battle of Trafalgar, as far as he was concerned, and was rather pleased by the final product.

Comments

[collector]

"From the Latin, you mean? Versare, to turn and turn again." It was, Braxiatel knew, a name not without irony. Revolutions. "Why do you ask?"

[le-traitre.livejournal.com]

"You are correct. But for Château de Versailles, one of the believed etymologies is a bit more literal. Vers ailles. A place where verse gathers. The place where the Psalms gather."

Robespierre knelt to pick up the paper palace with care to not damage it, even if it had been discarded. When he stood again, he couldn't help but smile, but it wasn't out of any fondness. Honestly, the smile was only because he was quite impressed by Braxiatel's craftmanship.

"It seems quite obvious, but it seems that the French royalty agrees that there is no better place to hide a secret than in plain sight. It is interesting, though, that I should see your paper Versailles now, of all times," he paused to look back at Braxiatel, "The idea that it will burn in the flames of revolution is fitting. That is why my name seems to garner such a reaction amongst the people here, yes?"

It was contrary to every notion he had held of death that he would receive such a prophetic vision of the France of the future, but he was still unsure whether that was a blessing from God or if it was a punishment for his previous sins. It wasn't an idea he wanted to dwell on. But with the future of France and his recent death and rebirth fresh in mind, there seemed few people better on the Plane to sort out his thoughts than a man that had seemed indifferent enough to his place in history, though it may be different in its details from one that Braxiatel knew for him.

[collector]

Braxiatel looked at Robespierre levelly, aware that something was a little different in the man from the last time they spoke. It was not that he was more or less frank, but rather . . .

Hm. Braxiatel inclined his head in agreement. "Those familiar with the French Revolution, as it is called, would be very familiar with your name. But most people have some passing knowledge of it." As if absently, Braxiatel added, "Mr Day, as I recall, is an historian. He engaged me in a discussion of possible differences in your life against the history of our universe."