Well, Aunt Apolline was weakened by the experience, more than was thought usual and she became ill rather easily after that, but she did live until Gahariet was old enough to be sent to school. I do suspect she waited until then, to know for certain that he would be all right without her there.
[Thinking of that moment now, visiting with his aunt in the last few years of her life, always at her home in Paris, where her husband had insisted on bringing her for better access to doctors, Enjolras remembers just how afraid she seemed of leaving the earth. It had seemed the sort of thing that one understood would happen, but naturally brought her so much worry for the beloved child she had longed for and nurtured, despite the promises and assurances that things would be as all right as they could.
It was a fear he could acknowledge all too well back then, at seventeen, himself, but he had not understood it very well, and had not considered even then, that he would ever have a child. Only, right here, with Midii, another metaphor in the scenario he started to explain becomes perfectly clear. The only regret at his death, the only sorrow was that he did not know who remained behind to care for the idea of the republic, and...
Well, it seems his metaphor and story went deeper than he knew, and he's reasonably sure that his Aunt Apolline is laughing at him, somewhere in spirit. Trolled, almost. From behind the grave and a universe.
Oh QUITE well played indeed! A little snort escapes him then before he realizes that one does not often punctuate stories of beloved relatives who have passed on with laughter.]
I...forgive me for that but I've just realized something even deeper in the metaphor than I imagined, and I believe my aunt is laughing at me.
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[Thinking of that moment now, visiting with his aunt in the last few years of her life, always at her home in Paris, where her husband had insisted on bringing her for better access to doctors, Enjolras remembers just how afraid she seemed of leaving the earth. It had seemed the sort of thing that one understood would happen, but naturally brought her so much worry for the beloved child she had longed for and nurtured, despite the promises and assurances that things would be as all right as they could.
It was a fear he could acknowledge all too well back then, at seventeen, himself, but he had not understood it very well, and had not considered even then, that he would ever have a child. Only, right here, with Midii, another metaphor in the scenario he started to explain becomes perfectly clear. The only regret at his death, the only sorrow was that he did not know who remained behind to care for the idea of the republic, and...
Well, it seems his metaphor and story went deeper than he knew, and he's reasonably sure that his Aunt Apolline is laughing at him, somewhere in spirit. Trolled, almost. From behind the grave and a universe.
Oh QUITE well played indeed! A little snort escapes him then before he realizes that one does not often punctuate stories of beloved relatives who have passed on with laughter.]
I...forgive me for that but I've just realized something even deeper in the metaphor than I imagined, and I believe my aunt is laughing at me.