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A · Little · Bit · Dodgy
the same way rats are a little bit covered in fur
Created on 2007-07-27 04:23:57 (#13465141), last updated 2007-10-08
765 comments received, 826 comments posted
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6 Journal Entries, 13 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 30 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | the marquis de Carabas |
|---|
BioThe marquis de Carabas, as he might tell you himself if he's in an agreeable mood, is an elaborate lie. He is part of the society of London Below, a sort of world underneath London where once you're in you can't go back, the average life expenctancy isn't very long at all, magic exists and time and space bend strangely. People fall through the cracks to get there, and once you're there you'll most likely find that there is no life at all for you anymore in the world Above.
It's hard to say how the marquis got into London Below, whether it sucked him in or he seeked it out, but one thing he makes clear: he realized early on that he had to play by the rules to survive, and the rules of London Below are barter. He constructed a lie of himself, named after a lie in a fairy tale, made an image for himself and stuck to it impeccably. And now he barters with the best of them, trading goods for goods as is the way Below--but more, he trades in deals and favours. Anywhere he goes, almost, he has strings and levers to pull, buttons to press, people that owe him or, because he is the marquis, people he can seek out easily enough and offer them something that they will owe him greatly for. He has many interesting things in his pockets, including fruitcake. He can, like many denizens of the world Below, speak with rats and pigeons, and uses them to deliver messages and small notes.
Personality:
The marquis is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.
Or, as many fans will phrase it, he's a bastard-bastard-bastard. Take your pick.
Seemingly unconcerned with most other people, not much caring if he makes them cry and having no second thoughts about leaving them to die, and twisting things and deals around so he always comes out ahead, there's a reason why the marquis de Carabas is always, canonically, compared with a cat. He always lands on his feet (and has nine lives, or more, besides). He's cautious, always having plans and backup plans, always having strings to pull and storing his life in a box, just in case. He is easy enough to deal with, surprisingly, as he's straightforward as to what he wants, you know you don't want to owe him any favours, and strangely enough, his word is good. When you know that he is willing to die, slowly and painfully, in order to get the information you need, his word is GOOD. Of course, he's easy to deal with, but he's not too interested in making himself easy to deal with--he is a bastard, and he's sarcastic, and if he thinks you're stupid you'll know it, and he'll taunt you with it. He knows how to work his expressions, grins huge and white in a dark face, and eyes similarly so.
But then, there is the man. Because that's all he is. A self-made man, made into a mysterious, intriguing, honestly sort of terrifying lie, but a man. He is good at deals but not at dealing with people; comfort, more than not being something he does, is not something he does well at all, awkwardly patting Door on the back when she's crying: "There. There. There." Goodbyes, also, are not something he can do--nor, it seems, reunions, as he is decidedly unaffected by Richard's return, despite being the one who elects to come pick him up. He can seem very dashing and alluring, but he certainly wouldn't call himself a good man; he would not call himself a brave man, not even when spitting in Mister Croup's face, knowing that he will be in a great deal of pain, soon, right before they kill him. He's calculating, but he makes mistakes, and has certainly underestimated people before (Richard, at least).
By the end of the book, I think it's safe to say that his streak of not caring for people has been broken, much to his own bemusement and frustration (perhaps even consternation?); like it or not, he feels a kinship with the Lady Door, and the new Warrior, the Upworlder Richard Mayhew, that he may find difficult to deal with, when even Old Bailey (his closest acquaintance, canonically) has a general attitude of "oh god no it's YOU" whenever he sees him.
De Carabas hates having to admit he doesn't know everything about everything. It galls him. Also, he steals candy from babies. :3
It's hard to say how the marquis got into London Below, whether it sucked him in or he seeked it out, but one thing he makes clear: he realized early on that he had to play by the rules to survive, and the rules of London Below are barter. He constructed a lie of himself, named after a lie in a fairy tale, made an image for himself and stuck to it impeccably. And now he barters with the best of them, trading goods for goods as is the way Below--but more, he trades in deals and favours. Anywhere he goes, almost, he has strings and levers to pull, buttons to press, people that owe him or, because he is the marquis, people he can seek out easily enough and offer them something that they will owe him greatly for. He has many interesting things in his pockets, including fruitcake. He can, like many denizens of the world Below, speak with rats and pigeons, and uses them to deliver messages and small notes.
Personality:
The marquis is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.
Or, as many fans will phrase it, he's a bastard-bastard-bastard. Take your pick.
Seemingly unconcerned with most other people, not much caring if he makes them cry and having no second thoughts about leaving them to die, and twisting things and deals around so he always comes out ahead, there's a reason why the marquis de Carabas is always, canonically, compared with a cat. He always lands on his feet (and has nine lives, or more, besides). He's cautious, always having plans and backup plans, always having strings to pull and storing his life in a box, just in case. He is easy enough to deal with, surprisingly, as he's straightforward as to what he wants, you know you don't want to owe him any favours, and strangely enough, his word is good. When you know that he is willing to die, slowly and painfully, in order to get the information you need, his word is GOOD. Of course, he's easy to deal with, but he's not too interested in making himself easy to deal with--he is a bastard, and he's sarcastic, and if he thinks you're stupid you'll know it, and he'll taunt you with it. He knows how to work his expressions, grins huge and white in a dark face, and eyes similarly so.
But then, there is the man. Because that's all he is. A self-made man, made into a mysterious, intriguing, honestly sort of terrifying lie, but a man. He is good at deals but not at dealing with people; comfort, more than not being something he does, is not something he does well at all, awkwardly patting Door on the back when she's crying: "There. There. There." Goodbyes, also, are not something he can do--nor, it seems, reunions, as he is decidedly unaffected by Richard's return, despite being the one who elects to come pick him up. He can seem very dashing and alluring, but he certainly wouldn't call himself a good man; he would not call himself a brave man, not even when spitting in Mister Croup's face, knowing that he will be in a great deal of pain, soon, right before they kill him. He's calculating, but he makes mistakes, and has certainly underestimated people before (Richard, at least).
By the end of the book, I think it's safe to say that his streak of not caring for people has been broken, much to his own bemusement and frustration (perhaps even consternation?); like it or not, he feels a kinship with the Lady Door, and the new Warrior, the Upworlder Richard Mayhew, that he may find difficult to deal with, when even Old Bailey (his closest acquaintance, canonically) has a general attitude of "oh god no it's YOU" whenever he sees him.
De Carabas hates having to admit he doesn't know everything about everything. It galls him. Also, he steals candy from babies. :3
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