[closed] let's make the most of the night

[jondrette]

Characters: Dead, Miserable, French People
Date: Early March
Location: A pub somewhere out of the way
Situation: Courfeyrac is gone. We'll drink to that. Javert is gone. We'll drink to that.
Warnings: Swearing, debauchery, miserable French people, Pontmercying.

Yes, yes, everyone had a lovely time in and out of the bottle, but the remaining citizens of the turtle who had been lucky enough to die together at their home (and Marius) still had something else on their minds. After returning from the bottle, they'd been greeted with a half-empty suite that had formerly belonged to M'sieur de Courfeyrac, and a completely empty suite that belonged to Police Inspector Javert.

Whomever had organized it, it didn't matter. What mattered was that the remaining members of their party, Eponine, Enjolras, Combeferre, Joly, Bossuet, Marius, were all there to drink to their lost friend. And while that in and of itself was a sad occasion, no one was about to mourn the loss of Javert, particularly not Eponine.

So come on in, take a seat, pour a pint, and drink with us to time gone by.

Comments

[solo_patria]

Emotional was a way to put it, yes. Where Enjolras could usually apply logic to many things himself, the loss of Courfeyrac was not one of those times. Losing Courfeyrac again for that matter, even if he had not been apart from the others for long at the barricade before his death. There was something horrible in that fact, and heavy, and he could not help wondering if he was to blame for it, if everything that he had done here, the attempts to escape punishment for it, had somehow come back to haunt him in the worst of ways. It seemed quite likely, upon consideration, so there was that as well.

"Perhaps we are selfish in that." He allowed to Joly's words, an ironic sort of smile crossing his features there. "Many say that we mourn for ourselves, truly, when someone is lost. Perhaps it is that then. And as for landing other places, well..."

Joly did have a point, odd as it was to hear a being of such logic point out the idea of other worlds or times Courfeyrac may have gotten off to.

"We can hope for that fate for him." he allowed. "I will still miss him, but it helps, certainly, to think that somewhere, he may live on. As for the others. I do mourn them, I mourn all of your losses, even though the joy at seeing some of you again does override the pain. And I am sorry, too, that all of you were dragged to this sort of a sorrow, and condemned with me for all the things I've done."

"But if, in time, we all move on to happier things...the thought is easier to bear." Not easy to believe, but Enjolras would not say such now, for surely, for most of them, that must come. What had they died for after all, but to see that world, whether in life or the world beyond it, coming true?

"Courfeyrac would approve as well. It does not help though, how much we are going to miss him, but..." He settled his injured hand around the glass of wine again, barely wincing as he did that. "I do quite see your point. I cannot quite believe it but I do see the reasons one must try to. For the sake of the others, if nothing else. And celebrating times we've had here, like Courfeyrac's week as a woman."

[fliesonfour]

Joly did not quite like the sound of that reply. That Enjolras 'mourned all their losses' and that mourning was done principally for the sake of the self... His fingers curled around the throat of his glass and his lips pursed, just so.

Then too, there was 'condemned with me for all the things that I have done.' Well! Joly didn't feel in a bit condemned, though he shared his friend's part in the bemusement at their station, and grief at their losses. Grief he had felt from the very start, mind, for not all were as Enjolras or Combeferre here, as Eponine was, as even Courfeyrac and Prouvaire were too, once: not all had the person they loved near at hand. Yes, yes, he knew grief quite well so far, and he had known what it was like to miss someone vital simply by arriving.

Therefore, feeling his emotions pique at the way this man; his dear friend; spoke, Joly found himself... quite out of spirits. Frustrated, rather, with a fretting brow and almost the will to stand and walk away.

Instead: "My dear sir. If to mourn is selfish, then what is it to blame? Why should you be so self-obsessed as to assume I am punished for you sins? Or that Bossuet is? Are we not men-- may we not be judged and weighed by our own actions, our own free choice? Indeed, we have much discussed equality with you in the past... and yet in saying that you mourn for us who did not ask it of you; some sitting right before you, hem!; and that we are condemned for your sake, it promotes the idea of a hierarchy. I did not vote you God or King; to take the title willfully and flog yourself by it is to be a monarchist to one's own soul." And indeed, he sounded scolding now. Joly was not, and had never been, beyond the ability to be very grave, very serious, and to make his point as all the others could.

Should he be lighter with his words because Enjolras mourned, and was bogged down by hurt? Well, that was his point of a moment ago. It was a hurt that was constant, if one let it be. Enjolras felt it because he had lost Courfeyrac; they had all lost Courfeyrac. --But Combeferre, by being here, had lost all his siblings. Marius, by being here, had lost his soon-to-be wife. L'Aigle, by being here, had lost Musichetta, same as he had. And he had lost that dear girl, and his family, and stood not in the friendship of those yet to come, Feuilly and Bahorel and the rest.

It was not absurd, to mourn a friend. It was absurd to be pulled so low by it, when mourning was the constant state, and to say it was the fault of a man who had been their leader in the streets, but not of their souls.

These were, perhaps, items that Joly had not faced yet. He had certainly not faced his own death yet, and these constant toasts to the departed smacked of irony, and hypocrisy, and worse: of giving up.

He often feared and predicted the worst. But he would not a condemn a friend to death simply because they had stepped out. No more than he could convince himself those who had not stepped in yet never would, or were already lost.

"I thank you not to judge yourself, or us on your terms. I thank you not to pronounce our sweet friend gone forever, but merely as the facts say 'not here now.'" He had said: I do quite see your point. I cannot quite believe it but I do see the reasons one must try to. For the sake of the others, if nothing else. And so, full steam ahead: "I thank you not to flaunt your disbelief, for in doing so, you are rather like the judge who hears only one witness and makes up his mind on the dime for the noose. I thank you not to say you will think differently 'for the sake of others', for we do not ask you to be our martyr anymore than we ask you to be our King, Enjolras. I should not ask you not to be upset on the part of such a gross loss; merely, not to descend into lunacy or self-absorption over the matter, which is what I have heard signs of in your speech just now."

A pause in his total agitation there, then, to blink. And haltingly:

"Courfeyrac-- a woman?"

[solo_patria]

Perhaps Enjolras ought to have been more careful, but, as he was wont to do when he had something on his mind, and a glass in front of him, sometimes his thoughts spilled out, before he might properly arrange them. This was why, he thought, hiding a sigh at the expression on Joly's face, that he preferred to think on paper first, where possible.

Condemnation was one of those things which he hated to cast upon anyone, and that was why the thought of it applied to the others horrified him so much, perhaps. It was not out of wishing that to be the case, but instead a deep fear that it was. It would almost be better, he thought dimly, if all of the others were illusions put here to maintain the point that he had erred. He could not like the possibility, but there was a certain, horrible sense of justice in it.

Or, it was possible too, that Joly was right. There was enough logic in what he said, and it was true that self obsession surely played a role just now. Self obsession had played a role in his life here for a long time, and there was no denying that side of things. It stung to admit that to himself, but then, better than he deny it now.

"I do not mean that this should be a hierarchy of any sort." He answered, the words a little tired, but in a general sense, and not out of reaction to Joly's words. "The way you put it, it does seem that way. A monarchist to one's own soul though." And a tiny smile crossed his lips, briefly at that.

"But it begs the question, and position of the soul. Is it the soul that should lead man, or his self determination. I do wish that Grantaire were still among us, and Prouvaire. I do not doubt they would have things to say on THAT." And he was back to distanced language when it came to referring to Jehan now. As he had only been so briefly while the man had been among them.

Anyone being light in their approach to Enjolras now may well have been appreciated, but it seemed unlikely they could help so much. A slightly more realistic touch was needed, which was how he found himself nodding at Joly's points.

"Then I am not able to believe it now, and I do all of you disservice by pretending. That is...I cannot feel it yet, ridiculous as that sounds. Not the emotion of mourning itself. That is only right, and proper, but...I've nowhere to direct or apply it just yet. I disagree with one point in your diagnosis if I may say so all the same. Disordered though it is, I do not think I've quite reached lunacy. Self absorption...probably, I do admit."

He'd caught himself veering toward it upon more than one occasion after all, and there was no point in lying about that, so much.

"When I can manage it again, separating emotion from the facts, you have given me much to think about, and work through, and I do think you right. I've only...well, to properly absorb it, which I think must take more time, or some direction to discover. All the same, thank you for that. I do appreciate your honesty, much more than an attempt at balm."

And there was the blink, so perhaps changing the subject was for the best now.

"Marius was terrified, from what I hear, and tried to bar Mademoiselle Courfeyrac from leaving their quarters when he saw what it was she meant to wear."

[fliesonfour]

"Grantaire had rather a lot to say about every topic, it is true." His expression improved with that, a slight quirk of a smile, brief, before it was back to fretting. "I do not think I accuse any man of lunacy, least of all you. We are all guilty of some psychosis, eh? But more, selfishness is a symptom of the self, and if I point it out in you, it is to keep it from becoming an ailment on yourself, rather than merely a symptom. The tickle in the throat tells us we need rest! You are tickling, and I am telling you to rest. The cough is engrained and hopeless and catching. Do not let your absorption and self-pit go from being the tickle to the cough." Cautioned, leaning forward, putting up a warning finger at him, brows raised a little.

Normally, he would not speak quite so frankly at a man in grief, much less with Enjolras. He preferred to be all humor and such the like! But the moment called for some manliness, and Enjolras' crazed theories deserved some seriousness. He was equal to it, even as it unnerved him.

"As for Mademoiselle Courfeyrac, if we must mourn, let us be men about it, and mourn the lady's passing! I cannot picture it, but perhaps imagining one's friends as women is not a common leaning curve."

[solo_patria]

"Sometimes, most times, to the point I did not pay attention. I do regret it now. I think it may have served me better in some cases." It was as much an admission as anything, that Enjolras had been wrong in that case, even if he did not so much intend to castigate himself over that. It had been what it had been, and that was simply...it. Terribly sad, regrettable, but...there was not much to do with it now.

"I suppose we ARE at that. Most of us at least. There are a few here I would not QUITE peg as having psychosis yet. A few month from now, however, well..." He let that trail off, his expression wry.

"And how should one treat this particular tickle, then, in your esteemed opinion? I do not think that rest has worked for...quite some time." In truth, a part of him did wonder if it had been too long and if he was going to end up like this forever, as in Joly's darker thoughts.

That last bit got a snicker at least, and a groan. "Having seen that curve myself, no, certainly not common."

[fliesonfour]

"I paid very astute attention, and I promise you, it was never much anything of worth." He looked cheery a moment in saying so, before growing suddenly serious. "Although, mark; Grantaire spoke over-much, but was a better listener than us all, I do believe. It is why he had so very much to speak about, on every forseeable topic. What he lacked in point he made up for in length, what he lacked in direction he made up for in speed." Joly had somewhat appreciated his absurdity. Grantaire was a man who might know what a gun was, and what it was for, and how to use it, and could tell you every part of it at great detail, and would know a gunmaker to reference, and a story about gunpowder to make humorous allusion to-- he was also the man who would know a great deal about paper, the types and makes of it, and he would laugh at what men used paper for, to write great works, and he'd have read all those great works which would only worsen his mockery of the very tradition and use of paper...

And yet, when it came time to kill a man, knowing both what paper was and what the gun was, he was thevery sort of man who'd pick up the paper to try to commit the murder in paper cuts.

He understood form very well! Execution, he'd only learned in death apparently; and it was of a very different sort.

Thinking on it made him dour, so with a clearing of his throat and a tap of fingers to the table, he moved on.

"You might seek to indulge more! You have a lover now, eh? There are matters of the flesh to remind you that it isn't a punishment, and wine to ply your brain into seeing the truth of it, and jobs to be had that will give you the sense of purpose and usefulness that all men need to move forward rather than stare back." A shrug. "It seems enough to me... though perhaps if you need more incentive, you might bless your stars you did not wake up a lady, as Courfeyrac. While I have no doubt you'd make a handsome one, considering the way you have always looked at women, you'd be quite at odds with yourself! Quite at odds."

[solo_patria]

"Was it not? I had gotten the impression there were some gems tossed in amongst a good deal more dirt and...other things."

Enjolras was aware that most of what Grantaire had said was shit, but that if one sorted through it, he could probably find a decent point or two for every few thousand words. The idea of him as listener had not occurred before, but now that Joly mentioned it, it did make sense, why the man had bothered coming to the cafes, why he'd paid attention, made it his business to know what he might, on those subjects he did, actually.

"Funny. I never thought of him in that way, but when phrased the way you put it, he makes yet more sense."

And then, the next mention, had Enjolras ducking his head,flushing a little, though it was a fair answer to his question, he supposed, and one that he could have expected as advice to be given, after all. And it was not as though he had found the matters of the flesh to be distasteful after all. "Well, that first one is quite worth a try. As to the last, during the time that that event occurred, I found myself a boy again. Fourteen or so, and far too short to reach a THING. It was awkward indeed, though I was less at odds, surely."

[fliesonfour]

"Bah, only when he decided there might be!" Which was sometimes, in admittance; though usually, those 'gems' as Enjolras called them were one-shots. They came not enveloped in a mire of other words... but stood alone, as single sentences, pushed into the fray and abandoned there.

Joly did not doubt that his friend had been very wise, in his way. He certainly might know better than Enjolras in this little matter-- they had been close, as Joly was close with everyone, but few so much as Grantaire... and there were few that Enjolras stood further apart from, as a rule!

"You were a boy once? I thought you were a concept, grown up into a movement." He joked, tapping his own nose with a playful wink. "I should have liked to have seen Courfeyrac in full bloom, with you in half. It sounds a riot, if worrisome for your general bone structures, eh?"

[solo_patria]

"Or when he was drunk enough to find them, I suppose." They seemed to be gems more for their scarcity to Enjolras's mind now. Not that all of them were bad, the man had been quite profound in those moments, really, but, it was a combination of both what he and Joly had said, he supposed.

"I do wonder what he made of leaving here, if he knew it was to happen, and all of that." He mused, a small frown, more thoughtful than anything else, crossing his face now. "Something for a time when I am not so morbid, I suppose."

"I was, at that." His legs ached with that memory, in fact, and before he could cover it up, Joly's comment got a tiny smile for just half a moment. "And yes, my legs ached the entire time. Just thinking of it makes me wince now, actually. I would not recommend it as things go."