"Some interesting things so far. One testimony of events in Latin that I still am attempting to adequately process, I admit." Enjolras has to smile as he comes clean with that. "I studied it, in school, and I gave that teacher a bit less trouble helping me to understand it than the Greek but..." he shakes his head. "I have been rather rusty. But besides that, war stories, stories about loves, and lives before...It has been more difficult telling the stories of the people that I knew here, who have left." He admits, a bit quieter there. "I am not certain why, One would think the details were easier to get right but there we have it."
He DOES have feelings, is the takeaway. Quelle horreur. When it comes to speaking about Combeferre though, he slides a finger over to show her in more detail, among the drawings, bits of notes in 19th century hand, and French.
"Etienne...Combeferre." He adds. "He was a doctor at home, with all of us. He did run a clinic of sorts here, for a while. When the hospital took on more workers, it all seemed to attract more business there, but he is how I learned to stitch a wound, and set a broken bone. The small things I was doing when I was an orderly and assistant, before I learned that spell of mine. It was nearly a year ago that he left now. ...Two, I suppose, actually." he muses to himself a bit more now, not sure he likes the idea that the first anniversary of it passed him by.
"We were best friends, in a time when all of our friends were close but he and Courfeyrac were closest. He kept me centered and my feet on the ground when my head was starring off into the distant future and its beauties and the ways that we might come to make it happen. Courfeyrac brought friendship, a reminder to be...to let the others in, but Etienne kept me human, when I might have become something else, in the midst of revolution. He reminded me of balance and the need to leave something meaningful for tomorrow, along with the right ways and times to bring it."
Enjolras is wistful here, certainly sad as he realizes how long it has been, and how close it must be to the actual anniversary of the day that they all died. "We could not have assembled to attempt a Revolution had he not been by our sides. He was brilliant and compassionate and he knew everything, he made me care about ideas I would have once dismissed. Education. The idea that we can light a candle in the darkness through that alone...He was inspiring then, and after we came here. But then, after I arrived..."
His eyes aren't shiny, what are you talking about? See, he's smiling so he can't possibly be feeling anything else at all here besides fond memories, right?
"Here, we became something more." He misses Combeferre. More than mere words can say. "Getting that onto paper has been...hard."
no subject
He DOES have feelings, is the takeaway. Quelle horreur. When it comes to speaking about Combeferre though, he slides a finger over to show her in more detail, among the drawings, bits of notes in 19th century hand, and French.
"Etienne...Combeferre." He adds. "He was a doctor at home, with all of us. He did run a clinic of sorts here, for a while. When the hospital took on more workers, it all seemed to attract more business there, but he is how I learned to stitch a wound, and set a broken bone. The small things I was doing when I was an orderly and assistant, before I learned that spell of mine. It was nearly a year ago that he left now. ...Two, I suppose, actually." he muses to himself a bit more now, not sure he likes the idea that the first anniversary of it passed him by.
"We were best friends, in a time when all of our friends were close but he and Courfeyrac were closest. He kept me centered and my feet on the ground when my head was starring off into the distant future and its beauties and the ways that we might come to make it happen. Courfeyrac brought friendship, a reminder to be...to let the others in, but Etienne kept me human, when I might have become something else, in the midst of revolution. He reminded me of balance and the need to leave something meaningful for tomorrow, along with the right ways and times to bring it."
Enjolras is wistful here, certainly sad as he realizes how long it has been, and how close it must be to the actual anniversary of the day that they all died. "We could not have assembled to attempt a Revolution had he not been by our sides. He was brilliant and compassionate and he knew everything, he made me care about ideas I would have once dismissed. Education. The idea that we can light a candle in the darkness through that alone...He was inspiring then, and after we came here. But then, after I arrived..."
His eyes aren't shiny, what are you talking about? See, he's smiling so he can't possibly be feeling anything else at all here besides fond memories, right?
"Here, we became something more." He misses Combeferre. More than mere words can say. "Getting that onto paper has been...hard."