DE: Truth or dare

[bjornwilde]

 Two options for this Friday, both based on the dangerous game of truth or dare. Be sure to note which you'd like to plat.

Option One: In character truth or dare
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for either a truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Answer in character, perhaps using dares as EP ideas

Option Two: Truth or dare fic meme
1- Tag in with a pup or list you'd like to play with
2- Get a request for truth or receive a dare (don't forget to tag others with truths or dares)
3- Write a fic, however long, based on what you get

Comments

SO GOOD, VALJEAN MIGHT THROW UP.

[road_to_calvary]

'Ah.'

Dare. Dare? What on earth should he dare his daughter to do, and how is it supposed to be amusing. He tries to think of the most innocuous thing he can, and prays her attention will be diverted to ANYTHING ELSE very soon.

'...then, I dare you to stand and sing me a song.'

MAYBE SOMEBODY SHOULD LOCK THEM IN A ROOM TOGETHER AND NOT LET THEM OUT TILL THEY'VE DONE THIS.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette laughs merrily. "You are a silly dear. All right, if that's what you want, of course I shall."

She spends a moment in thought, and then stands and folds her hands before her.

Cosette's store of songs is nearly all garnered from the convent -- that, and a small stack of sheet music collected in recent years, and songs overheard in the street now and again. But mostly what she knows is hymns. She does give thought to teasing her father with a song of love and springtime, but what she chooses in the end is an old favorite: a hymn to God's grace, learned young, sung at her father's knee and her uncle's and to the apple trees, and in chorus with other young voices.

(She might have faltered when she thought of her uncle, if she allowed herself to, but she doesn't allow the thought to show in face or voice. It will grieve her fath-- her papa, and that's the opposite of the point.)

I VOTE YES. BUT VALJEAN MIGHT DIE OF OLD AGE FIRST.

[road_to_calvary]

It is a beautiful song, and she has a beautiful voice. It reminds Valjean of when she was young, and happiness in her singing mingles with melancholy for all that time takes away.

He applauds at the end, a smile wide across his face.

'Very nicely done, my child. I do enjoy that hymn. Now, shall we take tea?'

GAME TIME OVER Y/Y!?

SO I SEE.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette's face falls a little.

She wanted -- she hoped --

but he isn't offering, and she isn't quite willing to press, even now. It's not a game in the slightest if he doesn't offer, and she doesn't want to make a game out of what isn't.

She rallies; she smiles at him, and seats herself again. "Yes, papa, tea would be nice."

[nita_callahan]

THIS IS ADORABLE.

D:

[road_to_calvary]

....she is sad. He has made her sad.

He swallows hard, thinking desperately. 'If you wish-'

But he cannot ask for truth, and he cannot think of any dare he would be able to do.

'-another round.'

Please say no, please say no, please say no...

HOW IS IT THAT YOU MAKE ME FEEL AWFUL FOR VALJEAN WHEN I ANGLED FOR THIS.

[lark_in_flight]

"You don't wish to."

She wishes he did. Never mind the game, but she wishes he would tell her something, tell her anything--

She smiles at him. "If it's not fun, that's all right, that's fine. I'll just dare you now to pick something you want to eat with tea. There, you shan't deny me. I insist."

I AM SORRY. HE IS A SAD PANDA. D:

[road_to_calvary]

'I am sorry, my dear' he mutters.

But there is nothing else he can add to that. She is right, he does not wish to at all.
It is for her own good.

He rallies enough to manage a smile.

'Some cake then. That would be enjoyable.'

He will make sure Bar provides her favourite.

THE VERY SADDEST OF PANDAS.

[lark_in_flight]

"Very well. Cake and tea, and fruit -- whatever sort you like. Bar offers lovely fruit even in winter, so we ought to eat some, don't you think?"

She serves the cake and pours the tea, when it comes, and chatters a bit about Bar and food and other light nothings.

But still --

But now the thought of asking, of breaking all the silent rules and just plainly asking questions, has come to her, and it won't be silenced. There's a small rebellious part of her heart, and it's been roused; determination grows as she chatters and then falls silent, as she sips tea and watches her papa's fork to make sure he eats.

She waits until she's seen him eat the last of his share. Then, eyes on her fork as it presses against the last crumbs on her plate: "Papa, how did you meet my mother?"

It comes out in a rush, and it's still softened from what she meant to ask: she wanted to ask how he knew her. But she very nearly didn't nerve herself up to ask at all. She watches her fork: the silver tines, the soft dark crumbs, the cross-hatching like a gardener's mat as she presses down.

THE VERY SCAREDEST OF PANDAS.

[road_to_calvary]

And he watches the tabletop, his face calm and his soul in tumult.

'Cosette, it is so long ago I hardly remember.'

Half of this is true. He thinks about deflecting the question by saying her mother would remember better, but that would lead to difficulties about the real Fauchelevent.

GOD THESE TWO.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette nods, a little, without looking up.

She watches her fork against the crumbs. Press one direction; press the other, aligned as exactly as she can, so the lines cross like good weaving. The cake crumbs are slowly melding into paste. The light glitters off the silver, each tine tipped with a point like a little star.

She won't cry. He doesn't want to tell her anything; well, that's that.

THEY ARE THE WORST. Or in this case, Valjean is. D:

[road_to_calvary]

He opens his mouth to say more, but no words come. There is nothing he can say. Now that she has met Fantine, perhaps it would be safe to talk of Montreuil - but then he might be expected to explain why he had to stop being mayor, and then further, and further, and where will it end? Safer for both of them that nothing is said at all...and if she is sad, and if it causes him anguish...well, that is the price for security, it seems.

So, he says nothing. It is the way it must be.