It also went without saying, Yuki thought, that ******** would definitely have something fun for him and Fang to see. Even if he was getting used to the city square and surrounding park that they always teleported into when they came—including the massive statue in the fountain that looked so much like Kiyoshi, it was downright ******** kept finding interesting things for them to investigate when they came up here. Sure, the evidence of people at one point very possibly worshiping ******** predecessor had mostly become background noise until Yuki thought about it too hard, but no doubt, they’d end up somewhere else that proved a cute time.
Stretching out (and working a crick in his back besides), Yuki looked to his boy. “Another shrine or temple? Place where they schooled dancers for the capital city’s troupe de ballet? Oooh, have you found the Space Bastille, yet?”
Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair as a crack. As Dr. Ojiisan had explained a few times over, the Bastille Saint-Antoine in Paris hadn’t been singularly unique as such, but it had still been a product of a specific time and place. Likewise, its use as a symbol by the people of Paris had been informed by the specific material conditions of their existences. The fact that one of the major moments in the French Revolution was the storming of the Bastille did not necessarily mean that ******** shiny magical girl planet also had a Bastille. Taking the suggestion too seriously didn’t take the work of historians seriously enough.
Still, as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked around at the city’s architecture, all of which distinctly reminded him of Revolutionary France, Yuki felt like he could’ve safely bet money on there being a Space Bastille on this planet somewhere.
“No, I have not found the Space Bastille yet,” Murikabushi said, not even half as exasperated as he was trying to project with his little roll of the eyes and Pointed Glance at Yuki like “I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me”—which, to be fair, Yuki kinda was. But as always, Murikabushi liked that sort of behavior from Yuki.
Turning to look at Fang, he explained, “The Bastille was a famous prison fortress in France, back on Earth. A long time ago, the monarchy of France was corrupt and not taking care of their people. Like, eating all kinds of fancy, expensive foods in their golden palace while their people starved. They used the Bastille to imprison people whom they considered a threat to their power.”
Not that the political prisoners had been the only inmates at the Bastille, but they were the most important ones for the sake of keeping the story detailed enough to not make Fang feel condescended to, but also simplified enough for him to understand easily.
“So, in a time when the people were fed up with the King and Queen, people saw the Bastille as a symbol of their tyranny and how they abused their people. Tensions were running high for a lot of reasons, and the people stormed the Bastille, trying to seize control of it for themselves and liberate the prisoners. And they succeeded. Things got very messy after that, but…… that’s another story.”
Emphasizing that point (mostly to himself, so he would not spend this entire visit talking about French history instead of learning anything new about his own), Murikabushi dismissively waved a hand at nothing in particular. As he stepped away from Fang and Yuki, looking out at the sprawl of the city around them, he took a deep breath and felt all the possibilities sparkling at his fingertips.
“As for where we’re going,” he said, “I don’t really know what we’re going to find when we get there? But last time I came with Kaifeng, I think we found the Quarter of the city where the Ariake-zuke—Airan’s ancestral people?—where they lived. I want to poke around there and see what we can find.”
Although he didn’t know much about the whole situation that had existed on Murikabushi-That-Was yet, Muri had managed to gather some things from a handful of recollected memories. For instance, he’d learned that there hadn’t always been peace among the different ethnic groups within the larger heading of obscenely beautiful space-elves. As far as he could tell just yet, the Revolution might’ve been the only time when there had been actual solidarity across ethnic lines for his world’s people.
But here in the present, Murikabushi gestured toward the boulevard that had led him and Kaifeng to the right place before. “It’s just down this way.”
Letting ******** lead the way, Yuki stuck close to Fang’s side. Partly, it was a matter of practicality: the two of them walking together made sense because both of them needed to follow ********. Partly, though, it was about making sure that Fang felt included, since between the dealing with queerplatonic partners of it all and ******** being so Very All About exploring his world, he might’ve felt less like a friend who was here because Muri wanted him here, and more like a third-wheel. In the interests of that, Yuki gently nudged his shoulder at Fang’s arm.
“So, Fang. How are things with Rosie?”
genovianprince
