tushanshu_logs | (no subject)

Characters: Enjolras, Les Amis, Other Friends (I'll edit those last two things as we head in here!)
Date: Christmas Eve- Early Morning
Location: The Cafe the boys tend to congregated at, Wood Sector
Situation: Réveillon is celebrated as part of the French Christmas traditions. And it's Christmas Eve here, so... :D
Warnings/Rating: Will Update!

Somehow, even in as strange a place as the turtle can be, and even in a time of such great sorrow as the loss of the Empress (a term he'll stubbornly use with his last breath), and the departure of Jehan, Christmas has managed to make its way around again, and this past year...when Enjolras thinks of it is nothing short of astounding. For him, it meant the rebellion, death, being born again, and all of the adventures here, finding his place with Etienne, growing closer to others than he allowed himself in life, and while he's not given to outward expressions of his sentiments, still finding that difficult in many cases, it bears some celebration nonetheless.

On Christmas, in France, after the midnight Mass, the one time a year Enjolras could drag himself to church, comes Réveillon, a time for staying awake, gathering close and, admittedly, overeating and drinking. Who could say otherwise of a meal that traditionally hosts thirteen desserts? Here, on the Turtle, some things were not able to be found but even so, the spirit of the thing is good enough, and, he managed to find a local equivalent to citron that, well, it's a miracle it hasn't all vanished by this point, because it's really good. In any case, it's set up in the cafe, along with a meal that may not be totally traditional but works out well, regardless.

So, here they are, old friends, and perhaps some new, on Christmas Eve, a little earlier than usual with no Mass to run off to, and warm and comfortable and here. That bears some celebration with friends, doesn't it?

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[Perhaps when they are a bit more lively, they might decorate some of the tree-houses. Combeferre, at least, is well on the way to being more lively, beaming as he settles down next to Joly with a glass of wine.]

Hallo, my dear!

Edited 2014-01-05 00:13 (UTC)

[Joly makes room by way of a natural lean, and grins enthusiastically at the addition of company, already rosy with wine (and the beginnings of a fever, if you were to ask him about the colouration.)]

What, hullo! Good Christmas to you, King of Hearts.

[Oh, Joly, it is the wine and the heat of the room, and no such miasmas are lurking about in the Wood sector, we promise you. There is a bit of a laugh and a quick sip of his wine.]

King? Why, I do think I should take offense to that. Surely you could think of a more fitting title, if you must refer to me as such? As for the second, do you not think that more fitting for our dear Coeurfeyrac?

[Oh! But nothing is so exciting as a little scandalous romance, except for when puns are up to being made in the discussion of it; a leisure hobby that he often only flexes as a team sport with his Eagle, but come! There was room for all.

Snorting, delightedly, at the play on their poor friend's name, he waved a hand at him delicately, rotating his wrist and starting to grin rather too-wide.]

Dear old friend! I refer to cards, not the monarchy. Your head is still attached and working, after all. And while a revolutionary may have claimed that head as his own property, I beg you not to worry. You will know what to do with him when the time is right, Combefaire. A king of hearts has a queen below him and an ace in the hole, after all.

You have outshined our Rey, in this regard. Felicitations!

[Combeferre is torn between laughing delightedly and turning bright red, at the moment, so he must be excused if he busies himself with his wineglass until the blushing is a bit more under control.]

Oh, very well, I cannot outshine you in this arena it would seem. [He clearly doesn't mind that one bit, however, and gives Joly a cheery grin, nudging his spectacles up a bit.]

--As for the second, ah, thank you? I suppose he must have told you, I do not think we are as obvious as all that.

[All is excused, at his table. Hiding one's nose in one's glass, while not exactly conspicuous, was a more than fair manner of stalling.]

I am well-practiced at it, dear friend.

No, you were certainly covert in your affections-- aside from the usual mooning in your politics of speech, I had thought you rather turning colours over Eponine, truth be told.

So you are, much better than I am.

[So it was, and much better than stammering, which is what his original reflex would have been. But the drink is good, and the friends are better, and he knows no one here is bothered by his newfound relationship, at the least. There is a laugh, at that.]

Eponine! No, she is a dear young lady, but not in the slightest. She is carrying a torch for our Pontmercy, I believe.

Is she? She wears a jacket picked by him, but then, she wears your shirt, and it's all a very great deal confusing, you might have to agree.

She calls you 'Etienne' and Enjolras calls you 'Etienne' and I am beginning to debate whether there is much to help me tell their interests apart. Perhaps if I had been provided the Constitution of Your Newfound Independent Relationship, I might have better understood the finer details. Is there a pamphlet?

[Joked, with a wink.]

Only because hers was shot full of holes and filthy. But I will allow some confusion, I suppose.

[There's a laugh, and an answering shake of his head.] Do not say such things, or Apollon likely will do something of that nature.