Enjolras probably could remember if pressed, or, perhaps in Combeferre's notes here, there are some ideas. He and Leo worked on a few plans that seemed to involve a lot of explosions, after all. That was certainly possible.
There was something in the idea of fighting with a knife that seemed a bit more reasonable than swinging a bottle around, too. He'd not liked the idea of bottling someone so much as being able to get in close and deal some damage to someone who had earned it. There was something in the personal nature of closer ranged weapons that appealed to his sense of, perhaps honor, in a way. It was something that he could use to make the deaths he doled out a bit more personal.
Enjolras had never been one given to torture's nuances, or hurting someone should there be no other way to go about stopping, or punishing, them, but there was a certain comfort in dealing out injuries at close range, an idea that he could better control the force used, and the blows that he dealt out. Deliberation felt, no, even more so, it was important.
There was something in the method of killing someone up close, of being able to meet their gaze as they lay dying, or at his mercy that ensured, despite the circumstances, that Enjolras remained in control of the moment. There, he could keep himself from doing more than was absolutely quick and necessary, and could spare an enemy the long hours of pain that some bullets or bayonet wounds made for. While Enjolras meant to act as executioner to those who stood with Malicant, enemies perhaps beyond their understanding, who had committed cruelties, there was still, as Dante had pointed out, in their conversation, room to keep things from spilling into out and out brutality. Now healed of his wounds, it was easier to remember, and, while he still felt rising irritation in some moments, while he hated Malicant more than he had before, there was, if nothing else, a brand of civility to be respected, and adhered to.
It was the mark that kept them from becoming the enemy. Combeferre would have pointed out much the same, if he had been there, and had Enjolras spoken to him, instead of Dante, he was fairly sure. A victory could require as many corpses as it needed to become the soil that enriched a land free from oppression, but those who created the corpses must be careful not to succumb to the viewpoints of the enemies before them. For Enjolras, odd as it seemed, this was a way.
"I ought to look into those." He mused, giving Akito a thoughtful nod. "And the bottles...I think I may be able to look into that. Combeferre, my partner was the scientific genius of our society at home. While he's gone from here, his books and notebooks aren't. I can hope he's left some notes on those, if nothing else."
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There was something in the idea of fighting with a knife that seemed a bit more reasonable than swinging a bottle around, too. He'd not liked the idea of bottling someone so much as being able to get in close and deal some damage to someone who had earned it. There was something in the personal nature of closer ranged weapons that appealed to his sense of, perhaps honor, in a way. It was something that he could use to make the deaths he doled out a bit more personal.
Enjolras had never been one given to torture's nuances, or hurting someone should there be no other way to go about stopping, or punishing, them, but there was a certain comfort in dealing out injuries at close range, an idea that he could better control the force used, and the blows that he dealt out. Deliberation felt, no, even more so, it was important.
There was something in the method of killing someone up close, of being able to meet their gaze as they lay dying, or at his mercy that ensured, despite the circumstances, that Enjolras remained in control of the moment. There, he could keep himself from doing more than was absolutely quick and necessary, and could spare an enemy the long hours of pain that some bullets or bayonet wounds made for. While Enjolras meant to act as executioner to those who stood with Malicant, enemies perhaps beyond their understanding, who had committed cruelties, there was still, as Dante had pointed out, in their conversation, room to keep things from spilling into out and out brutality. Now healed of his wounds, it was easier to remember, and, while he still felt rising irritation in some moments, while he hated Malicant more than he had before, there was, if nothing else, a brand of civility to be respected, and adhered to.
It was the mark that kept them from becoming the enemy. Combeferre would have pointed out much the same, if he had been there, and had Enjolras spoken to him, instead of Dante, he was fairly sure. A victory could require as many corpses as it needed to become the soil that enriched a land free from oppression, but those who created the corpses must be careful not to succumb to the viewpoints of the enemies before them. For Enjolras, odd as it seemed, this was a way.
"I ought to look into those." He mused, giving Akito a thoughtful nod. "And the bottles...I think I may be able to look into that. Combeferre, my partner was the scientific genius of our society at home. While he's gone from here, his books and notebooks aren't. I can hope he's left some notes on those, if nothing else."