pro_patria_mortuus: (guide and chief)
Enjolras ([personal profile] pro_patria_mortuus) wrote2032-06-08 12:56 am
Entry tags:

on room 89

Enjolras and Combeferre's room has two distinguishing features from the outside. One is the number, 89, which is memorable if you're a French revolutionary but otherwise no different than any other Milliways room. The other is a hand-painted placard on the door, reading Ici on s'honore du titre de citoyen (Here we use/honor the title of citizen, more or less) with small motifs in the corners: little poppy-daisy-cornflower clusters in two corners, and a little collection of triangle level, scales of justice, and a wreath of oak leaves in the other two. Feuilly made it because Feuilly is awesome.

Inside it bears a close but not perfect resemblance to the Madonna Inn's Cabin Still room. (Better picture at #11 here.) The differences are mostly based on a) requested changes, and b) the fact that it's a lived in room, not a hotel room.

So the first impression is: rock.

The floor is made of darkish brownish rocks, large and irregular. Part of the wall is too, and other parts of the wall are copper sheeting. But there's plenty of shelf space built into that!

There's a single king bed. (Pretty much always unmade.) There's a closet and a chest of drawers, and the usual sort of furniture: a couple of comfortable chairs, two desks, some little tables, a largeish couch. There's a big flatscreen tv on a stand, easily viewable from the couch, with a remote, and probably a dvd player or some futuristic equivalent. There's a coffeemaker and a mini-fridge, decorated with a poster of the periodic table of the elements and a Saturn magnet. There's also a working copper boiler over near the bathroom door, because WHY NOT, says the Madonna Inn.

On one side of the room is Enjolras's desk. You can tell it's Enjolras's because there's a big red bloodstained bullet-pierced flag hanging on the wall above it, and a poster of The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, and a pot of assorted cacti with a little card of instructions propped scrupulously nearby, and some books and papers on the desk and the shelves by it, and... that's about it.

Everywhere else in the room is Combeferre's stuff. Okay, that's not totally true, but it's... significantly true. There's a semi-dissected baby pterodon in a jar of formaldehyde. There are beakers and test tubes and vials, some of them possibly glowing or bubbling on occasion, all carefully labeled. There are books and papers and probably educational dvds. There's a glass case containing anything that ought not to be sitting out on a shelf. There are probably other dissection specimens. Basically there is SCIENCE!!! all over the place, with a genuine but somewhat distractable effort made at safety precautions and not creating tripping hazards.

In the bathroom there's more rock and copper. Rock floor, rock walls, rock countertop with copper sink basin, rock-walled shower, copper bathtub. So much rock, so much copper, so many confusing decorating choices. Also, you know, towels and soap and shampoo and 19th century shaving paraphernalia and so forth. Also there's a working still in a corner, because, again, the Madonna Inn says WHY NOT. The countertop and the still's general area probably also have SCIENCE stuff strewn around them much of the time.

They have no pets. They do, however, have a lot of friends who might wander by at any given moment and happen to be sprawled on the couch watching soap operas. To pick a completely random example, Courfeyrac.

[UH AND THEN ALSO ANYTHING ELSE I FORGOT, ROBERTA, or just drop a comment here with any later developments, or whatever!]