Chapter Text
Hear what the city says to the people.
The crazy American expats are the first to wake in their terraced house. Every last cent of their earnings, saved from ditch-digging, writing manuals, secretarying at chemical companies, and even stints apprenticing as a toymaker, have landed them here. Aledar wakes first and abruptly opens the blinds. Lead-eyelided as he is, Linton continues to sleep until Aledar shakes his friend awake. If they all don’t find something– they can’t all just subsist off breadcrumbs and Hearing the commotion, Lanu and Mel come down the stairs. They both agree, they must all find new jobs in their new city, gradually growing familiar. Instead, the four manage to corral themselves to the Cafe Detlas.
Not far, the long suffering wait staff at the Cafe ready themselves for the morning customers. Nobody wakes early in Paris, but those who do come wanting cappuccinos, croissants, or le formule. Especially those damn four Americans… A lady takes a drag of her cigarette and winks at tall blond Tasim, who shivers; he’s not an object. His friend Elphaba laughs heartily at the situation; heaven help a woman who falls for a confirmed bachelor such as himself. Meanwhile, the ever-tired Lari scrambles about quietly carrying plates upon plates upon plates. Seven years, seven years of service and not once a smidgen of a raise… for all she does this cafe would fall apart! She whines to Dullahan. He nods in agreement, the vague scrim of shell-shock flashing before his eyes.
Uptown, the many employees of Corkus Nishitai Electrical Solutions filter in. The company specializes in munitions, and decided to expand to something more philanthropic recently. The senior theoreticians, composed of the Misters Gawrick, Korun, Nikoler, get to work with their chalkboards and occasionally glare at each other. The floor general manager, Mr. Ineos, meets with two supervisors, Maxie Lundelgrove and Rhay Kingston. On the floor, Ohms (whose name always gets a hearty laugh from his coworkers– but would they respect his original birth name? He doubts it) and Ava read over the day’s testing schedule, dividing up the work as they see fit. They threaten each other with visits to Mr. Yansur, sketch circuits, and discuss how to make the company’s prize radio design more efficient than their competitors. Soosu, the foreman’s daughter, sometimes comes to comment on their designs. Today she goes off to school.
As the sun rises, the reporters at the official French-English paper The Cinfras Review hunch over their typewriters. Hashr takes the chair closest to the open window as he does not smoke, rolling his eyes with huffs at his coworkers. Frustratingly popular columnist Majin Thalas kicks up his feet and asks loudly for a thesaurus, humming until Theorick Twain roughly throws one at him from across the room. Theo himself quickly returns to scribbling out his opinions on local politics, always a bit grim. Mr. Graken, the chief editor, comes to admonish him with Britishisms– nobody takes the decorated war reporter seriously. Not any of these strapping young men, anyhow.
Students at the Sorbonne mix and mingle between classes in the Latin Quarter; Olon tells his new acquaintances about life in Ireland. Fields of green with Celtic ruins, playing in the woods before his parents scolded him, the everpresent threat of the English. His new friends Mael Twain and Sui nod along, fascinated. Friendly old Dr. Picard passes by and recalls his days as a student. Ah, the youth. Ah, the youth…
The carpenters take to the Seine-side for lunch. Martyn (not yet aged, but not fearful of finding gray hairs among the red) orders two brie-and-ham sandwiches for himself and his apprentice Asher, while Mora can practically consume an entire loaf of bread in one sitting. Old Amastali packs his lunches himself, and barely joins in the revelry. Each man has his place– rough worker, skilled woodcarver, apprentice technician, and old master. A single piece falling out of place would disturb the order.
Artists stumble into the Cafe Deltas, just waking up (or the alcoholics). Xima Thalas glances at the paper, where he’s placed an advertisement for a model. Do not apply if you are afraid of seeing yourself painted in a modern style; I studied with Picasso, Delaunay, and Gris. Caissop, laughs into his champagne-and-coffee– you’re too practical for this career, inspiration will come when it comes. It can’t always be chased. The final of the crowd, the down-on-his Gurix, just sighs. You might be allowed to wait for inspiration, but you don’t need it! You have a name for yourself! Caissop orders Gurix a glass of wine, and he takes it glumly. It’s free.
As the clock strikes mid-day, the members of a local Steel Feather union return to work at the factory. Yuman slaps his brothers Yusanu and Yulie on the back, they can spend just a little more time waiting. Yusanu nervously glances at the clock, no they can’t. Rolling his eyes, Yulie agrees, and the two abandon their brother, knowing he will return soon. Once again, Axelus returns to the shop floor to find his friend Korzim working through his break. Just like Mr. Sodeta used to, and they still have so many hours left in the day…
The Nasin manor sits somber as the sun inches down in the sky. Zhiraok, still in mourning black, exits his mother Rieke’s room. His kid sister (well, she’s a few years graduated, no longer a child) Gale sits outside, absorbed in her book– an outsider would imagine her completely distracted, selfish and unwilling to empathize. He knows she is mourning in her own way, and will soon mourn again. And Zhiraok himself isn’t one to complain, he can’t show his emotions the way he’d like, running for mayor and all. Soon their cousin Zeph will arrive from America, and they cannot have the house so dour, not at all.
There is one major dock left in the city– not the fishing kind, but where the shipments from the north and south arrive. The old man nicknamed the Seaskipper Captain watches over his workers, as does his old friend Syndra. Rex and Caid, good youngsters, Syndra says, pointing out the two hauling a box together. Caid always wanted to be a sailor, didn’t he? The Captain nods as he smokes his pipe— he might one day if his sister keeps his head on his shoulders… Crazy Relend, however… he glances at the man, trying to draw a map on the boxes. Well, Relend can move the boxes. And what about Gikyo? Syndra asks, pointing at them. Despite their thin physique, they hoist a decently-sized crate like it’s nothing, grinning ear-to-ear. The Captain shivers, we ought not to ask questions with unnecessary answers.
As the sun finally sets, the lights of The Canopy Club flicker to life, and its customers filter in quietly. Not everybody needs to know the secret of the Canopy, it serves the underprivileged, the foreigners, those who would not be considered “French” even if they were three generations out. The one nicknamed Azael gives his employees a nod. Fuhue readies herself to mix drinks, Cileon, and that strange man Rurie sits back in a comfortable chair. What does he do? None of them know, but his presence brings twice the people and earnings, so he can do what he wants.
Hear what the city says to the people.