![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
In the weeks he's been in this place, this Darrow, Porthos hasn't exactly fit into society easily. For one, he still roams the city looking for ways out. He hasn't exactly adapted to modern society, either, wearing his weapons and his clothes. What he has started to do, though, is learn. First, there'd been the odd beverage, that piping hot stuff that kept him frantically awake. Coffee, they'd called it, and he'd drank as much as he could.
From there, Porthos had started spending his days at the library. He'd gone to learn English, but also about history and all the things they'd missed. Every day, for three hours, he brushed up on his language and made sure he learned something. He's almost starting to feel comfortable. He still pickpockets on the streets to find out more, to feel like he hasn't lost all his talents, and he always keeps an eye out for trouble.
Today, his trip to the library has proven more than fruitful. He'd checked out a book on electricity (that mad thing that powers the bright gleam in their apartments), had gone to a store to exchange some of the modern money for tools and trinkets, and then he'd headed back to Aramis' apartments, stripping down to his linen shirt and his trousers. The rest of his clothes and weapons form a pile on the messy blankets that form his bed -- which has been Aramis' couch these past few weeks, seeing as he's been too wary of this place to strike out on his own.
Now, though, he's got a task.
It takes hours and hours, during which Porthos is shocked, burnt, scarred, and swears at the walls far more than he likes. He has to refer to both books he's brought (one in English to practice, one in French to understand), but eventually, he starts to understand how the whole thing works. Really, it's the pictures that eventually help him. By the time the sun starts to set, Porthos has managed to fix the damned switches, making it so now there's an in-between between darkness and light. It's only a shame he had to muck up his hands so badly to do it. Still, he's had worse -- the scars on his body are a testament to that. Aramis will probably be back, soon, so Porthos turns the lights off and lights candles, wanting to surprise Aramis, before heading to the kitchen to wash up properly.
Today's been a good day, he thinks. Not only did he learn something, but he's done something with it. Maybe this place isn't so bad, after all.
From there, Porthos had started spending his days at the library. He'd gone to learn English, but also about history and all the things they'd missed. Every day, for three hours, he brushed up on his language and made sure he learned something. He's almost starting to feel comfortable. He still pickpockets on the streets to find out more, to feel like he hasn't lost all his talents, and he always keeps an eye out for trouble.
Today, his trip to the library has proven more than fruitful. He'd checked out a book on electricity (that mad thing that powers the bright gleam in their apartments), had gone to a store to exchange some of the modern money for tools and trinkets, and then he'd headed back to Aramis' apartments, stripping down to his linen shirt and his trousers. The rest of his clothes and weapons form a pile on the messy blankets that form his bed -- which has been Aramis' couch these past few weeks, seeing as he's been too wary of this place to strike out on his own.
Now, though, he's got a task.
It takes hours and hours, during which Porthos is shocked, burnt, scarred, and swears at the walls far more than he likes. He has to refer to both books he's brought (one in English to practice, one in French to understand), but eventually, he starts to understand how the whole thing works. Really, it's the pictures that eventually help him. By the time the sun starts to set, Porthos has managed to fix the damned switches, making it so now there's an in-between between darkness and light. It's only a shame he had to muck up his hands so badly to do it. Still, he's had worse -- the scars on his body are a testament to that. Aramis will probably be back, soon, so Porthos turns the lights off and lights candles, wanting to surprise Aramis, before heading to the kitchen to wash up properly.
Today's been a good day, he thinks. Not only did he learn something, but he's done something with it. Maybe this place isn't so bad, after all.