tushanshu_logs | [Closed] Il nous reste toute une vie pour pleurer

Characters: Éponine & Midii
Date: Afternoon of the 6th
Location: A Park out in the Wood Sector
Situation: Story Time with two kindred spirits
Warnings/Rating: Possible discussions of War, Death, and Loss.

Midii kept her word; the very day Éponine finally contacted her again, she was ready with her book.

It was old, yet hardly used. The outer cover showed more signs of dust than wear, and some of the pages hadn't even been cut. She'd found it in an antique shop. A collectable meant to be displayed on a shelf. The owner had probably charged her far more than it was worth...but, for once, it was a price she was willing to pay. French stories were few and far in-between in Keelai. It was the closest thing to a pleasant memory of home she would be able to find.

And now, she would have the chance to share it with somebody who understood.

She was waiting in the same place they had first met. That same park, under the same tree. Private enough for the two to share a moment together, while public enough for her to be comfortable about it. Much as the older French girl was slowly growing on her...paranoia was a deeply instilled habit she had yet to shake.

Somehow, she knew Éponine would understand.

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Until Midii told her to stop, she'd keep doing it. The rhytmic, repetative movement is helpful for her, too.

"That's how you know you are," she explained softly. "it's always the things we don't think we are that we are. You don't feel brave because brave is what you are. It's survival."

"Even if others had to die in order for me to live?"

That hit close to home. Not that anyone had died for Eponine- no, she wasn't worthy of that sacrifice. But she had died for Marius. It wasn't her original plan, to die for him, but rather, die with him. But he survived the barricades, she knew now.

"We must survive, so that they did not die in vain."

Midii almost wished that were the case. That the people who had died did so because they loved her. Selfish as that may have sounded, it would have at least implied some sense of acceptance of their fate. Rather than fear and shock.

"What if...surviving them was an insult to their memory? They died because of me, Eponine. I can't change that. And I don't know how to make it right."

"Shhh, p'tite," she gently said, stroking the younger girls' hair again, holding her close. "Do you think- no, come. If you had died because of someone- would you wish them ill-will from beyond the grave? Or would you want them to live?"

The fact that this was almost exactly Eponine's situation did not phase her. She had Marius now. That was what mattered. Or, at least, had him here, with her.

She did not answer the question right away. Not because she didn't know. This time, she was certain.

"If I died because of them, then perhaps not. But if they were responsible for the loss of my family..." She absolutely would. Midii had put her own life on the line for them. They meant everything to her. "Does that make me a bad person?"

Eponine had probably been anticipating a kinder, more benevolent response. Wanting Midii to realize that she really was as sweet and gentle as the older girl suspected. The problem was that it simply just wasn't true.

Eponine all too clearly recalled her words to Enjolras about Gavroche, the thoughts she had had towards Cosette, the things her father and mother had said, the curses directed at the man in the yellow jacket.

"No," she said slowly. "It makes you human."

It wasn't a comfort. But it wasn't a rejection.

Midii nodded gently against Eponine's shoulder. Inhaling deeply and slowly before letting the last of it out. The corners of her lips tugged upwards, satisfied that she was not going to be rejected simply for being...as the older girl put it...human.

"I don't think I'm very hungry right now." The partially eaten sandwich was left in her lap. It wouldn't go to waste, but she wouldn't force food on her stomach in her current mental state. "Maybe we could finish after the story?"

At the exhale, Eponine tightened the hug, enjoying the feeling of such sweet companionship. Friendly intimacy, if nothing else. She hummed absentmindedly, stroking her hair again.

"After the story, then. But you must give me your word, Midii, that you shall finish your sandwich." She gave her would could only be described as a concerned, maternal stern face. "But for now, we shall have our story."

"I promise."

She would, too. But for the moment, it was a tradeoff. The sandwich was placed aside. Lemonade, within arm's reach. In exchange, she picked up the book she had brought. It was a little more advanced than the Fairy Tales, but no less a story she was intrigued in.

"I found this one on my last trip to the Metal Sector. Do you know it?" Her fingers lightly ran over the cover: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.

Eponine studied the cover carefully. It looked interesting enough, and the title... She'd been to the theater before. Gavroche had gotten her tickets, and she would stand in the back and watch, entranced by the comings and goings on stage, the beautiful costumes.

"I do not know it, but I am quite curious. Come! Let us read it."

"I remember hearing it was a theater show. A long, long time ago. Centuries." By her time. "Sometimes, it was still performed for the rich people who could afford to go see it. I've always wanted to."

"Theater is wonderful! I wish they had one here. Gavroche used to get me tickets, he knew actors. I should have loved to be in a performance. Perhaps even an opera!" She smiled faintly at the memory.

"There is. At least, there was a few months ago. An Opera. But not everybody could get tickets."

"Such a tragedy! Then we must have another! Or perhaps make our own." Eponine could sing, though her voice was raw, untempered.

She shook her head almost immediately at the thought, blonde hair whipping back and forth.

"No. I mean, you could. If you want. I'm sure you'd be great."

"I do not have a gift for poetry. Come, let us read. Shall I start, or do you wish to?" She was assuming they'd take turns reading it out loud to one another.

"Would you read a little bit first?"

Midii had no problems with taking over after a time, but for the moment, she found the older's voice to be incredibly soothing.

"Of course." She picked up the book from Midii, before opening it to the beginning. Shifting Midii in her arms, she placed the book on her lap and began.

"Prologue: In Which The Author Of This Singular Work Informs The Reader..."

[Closed] Il nous reste toute une vie pour pleurer

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