tushanshu_logs | There Is A Flame That Never Dies: Enjolras Catchall!

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There Is A Flame That Never Dies: Enjolras Catchall!

Characters: Enjolras and OPEN
Date: The Month of June
Location: Various. Turtle's Head, A Tavern, The Streets
Situation: Enjolras uses an anniversary to mourn, celebrate his friends, and tries to gather Foreigner stories and information about how the common kedan view them.

Warnings/Rating: Grief, Talk of Death, Alcohol.

I.

There's A Grief That Can't Be Spoken. There's A Pain Goes On And On:

(Turtle's Head: June 5th, All Day and Night)

Enjolras is seated at the turtle's head starring out at the water the best way that he can, a hand on his soul gem, which is warm to touch. His thoughts now turn toward, not Taraja, though he'd come here with her often, taking the long trek because she enjoyed it. Today, he's thinking of the others who have slipped him by, of how Combeferre and he started something two...three mid summers ago, in the midst of the awful memories of the barricade and the love he'd learned not to deny himself. Now, he is alone, just starring out at the depths of the ocean, thoughts of those he's loved, and lost, floating through his mind.

IS he condemned to watch them die, then see them vanish in another world? Enjolras supposes he deserves it, but could it be a lie of Malicant's he's taken to his heart? Could it be corruption of his soul? Either way he's at the head, pacing back and forth from time to time and tossing rocks into the water as he tries to look under control, or at least, to have a private place here, where he can break down with the memory, not of their deaths, but of their lives, and the hard truth that this year, he's on his own; dread anniversaries causing him to think in such a way or not.

"At this time in 1832..." He muses, not quite under his breath. After all, who could not think of home, today?

II.

Drink With Me To Days Gone By:

(June 6th, A Tavern In Keelaiai)

He died today. Enjolras died today, holding the hand of Grantaire of all people. Grantaire, who loved his taverns, and his absinthe and whatever drinks that he could get his hands on. Grantaire who had loved...no, He's putting that thought firmly away. It's hardly for tonight, for blaspheming the men who died with and for him. Tonight is for honor instead.

It only feels right somehow, that he is sitting here, in this tavern, taking up a large table with a shot of this establishment's strongest lined up for Grantaire. And a glass of wine for Combeferre, of the kind they often enjoyed bringing back to their table here, a fruity mixed drink that he thought Bahorel would enjoy, brandy for Courferac and Eponine. All in all, there are several drinks lined up around a round table in the corner, and one Enjolras, chastely sipping at a glass of water, ignoring the filled wineglass by his side for just a while still. He's sitting silently, occasionally studying a slowly burning candle, a look of devoted, almost peaceful contemplation on his face, the candlelight catching on his earrings as he waits, for God Knows What.

III.

Let Us Take To The Streets With A Jubilant Shout:

(June 7th and Onward, Streets of Keelaiai)

"Would you like to talk about your life here, how you feel about the Foreigners?" Enjolras asks a keedan girl outside one of the shops and then a boy who don't seem to shy away so quickly from him. "What's it like for your family now?

From time to time, he's also spotting willing foreigners and darting over, notes in hand to learn what things he might. Books promoting Foreigners as normal can't be written alone, and finding out what image they have to lose is quite important after all! Enjolras is willing to grab anyone he can to tell their stories, whether they really wish to speak with him or not. This could be a problem.

IV.

They Will Come One And All, They Will Come When We Call!

(Choose your own!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was.

In some ways, the pain had been twice as bad for Midii--no matter how melodramatically Eponine would have protested that no love would ever compare to hers--because...it had happened to her twice. Once, in the midst of war, just as her surrogate sister. Perhaps not fought with the same style of weapons or means of defense, but there were only so many variations to one of the worst parts of human nature.

The second time, however, had been in Keelai. Technically also in the middle of a war, but one far less violent (at least, until the explosions had gone off that fateful day). A far more powerful relationship than the one she had shared with Nanashii, and one that even promised the potential of reciprocation on the friendship level, but still Unrequited. So she would always believe, because he had left before being given the chance to say or prove otherwise.

"I'm happy to have been able to know her as well. She was the kind of person that...couldn't help changing the life of anyone she grew close with."

At least, from Midii's experience. For all that Eponine downplayed her importance in life, it was impossible not to state that she had proven a very strong role model, confidant, and even sense of family that the younger girl had sorely missed. And currently lacked once more.

Enjolras considered himself lucky to have missed out on the unrequited love train, though he was not sure who among his friends he might have fallen for anyway. He did love a man who was no longer present, but it hardly counted, knowing the feelings had been returned. To live as Eponine had, as Grantaire and now Midii had spoken of...the world seemed so cruel to make it happen in that way.

Twice though. War was enough to invoke horrors where it was concerned, and Keelai... things here were insane enough, without that to puzzle out. But where hopes remained...one could lose themselves in those, for a time. Enjolras held his own hopes about Combeferre, about what they may have done in future, here, that he sometimes looked to, when he felt at his lowest. Those hazy dreams were a comfort where few things could be , sometimes.

"Rather." he agreed, idly tugging at one of his hoops. "I see the world, all of it, in new ways now that she has been here. That I've known it through her eyes. I wish I might return home with the knowledge and with time to use it. It could change more of the world itself."

Simply hearing of the ways that she had moved through the world had made Eponine seem strong, yes, even as she HAD felt inferior. Hearing of that world itself, how much worse it was than even Enjolras knew, and how any soul emerged from it...

"Eponine's done much for those who knew her too. It's funny, how I only had the chance to understand because of her...of our death. Irony can be cruel, I suppose, no?"

"I'm not sure I would call a second chance at life Ironic. More like...a blessing."

That was how she had always seen it. Even with all the pain and suffering she'd gone through since. Having been giving things, only for them to be taken away again...well, she probably deserved that. Because she'd still gotten to meet other like herself, and had opportunities to redeem herself for everything she'd done in her past life.

"Irony that we met here." he explains, "When there was nothing to do with what I came to learn. The chance at life...no, I'd not call that an irony. I was afraid of it, at first, as unintuitive and stupid as it seems."

It was true, though. Enjolras had been lucky the others were there, even that Grantaire had been too unwell to hear that the version of himself that had been there before had gone. It had been easier to settle himself in. Still though, he had been..perturbed at the idea of a life without France.

Now, it seemed a life without Keelai felt just as wrong, if the reason that he was still here meant anything.

"No. It doesn't sound stupid at all. I understand."

Why he would be afraid of a second chance. She not only understood, she empathized; at one point, that had been her as well. Fearful it was all some trap. Worried that she would wake up and discover it had all been a dream. Or worse, find out it was all too real, and that she would get to live this beautiful life while remembering those left back home who might never have the chance.

"I don't believe I've said that out loud before." He muses now.

Surely not to his friends from home, anyway. Maybe, a long time ago, to Richard, when they saw too much of each other's personal hells for things not to be evident, but the words themselves? Those didn't quite happen. Taraja knew, but Taraja knew everything important without his having to actually say it, so she doesn't count either, really. The vulnerability of the admission hadn't actually taken place there.

That second part of it, though, yes. The idea that at home, things went on as they did, while here he was betraying everything by not being there to fight, despite being alive. It had been that way until Eshai had explained why they'd been brought here. And now...and now, he doesn't know. but a few things are clearer.

"I'm glad to have it now, though. It just...took some realization. But it's been a long time, for both of us."

There were many things Midii had never spoken aloud before. Some of which she still kept inside, after all these years. Mostly regarding the details of her feelings. There seemed little point in doing so now; while Enjorlas might understand, they were not words meant for him.

"Does it ever help?"

A silly question, she knew, but she had to wonder.

"Even now, I often feel like it's...easier to keep things to myself. And safer."

"Talking?" Enjolras looked thoughtful. "Sometimes. Writing it out too, if sharing doesn't seem the best course. At least I have the feelings out, where I can..." He frowns, not sure how to put this at first. "Where I can work out and understand what they are. I don't keep those, but they seem to. Much safer, you are right. But speaking to the right person...that can help too. It's a matter of...finding them I think?"

"But you've been like this ever since we met."

Talkative. Chatty. One might even say his habit for rambling about certain topics he was most passionate about had been clear from Day One, long before he'd been given a chance to get to know her.

"About some things. Less so the others." Enjolras admitted, smiling. "The larger things...those are...much easier to share, I think. When we spoke of the July revolution...that was easier, than, say, my feelings for anyone in particular. That's...different, I suppose. More personal."

He did have that habit on other subjects, though, and he could admit to that. "Maybe I talk about the larger ones too much for the others to come. Perhaps there are things even I can't find the words to say. At least until I understand them for myself. Things like my friends, losing them, all of the rest...They're still filled up with so much mystery and...pain. Someday I'll need to really speak of them, but it would be like lancing a wound. Once I got started on that subject...it would hurt. A hurt I've tried avoiding, as I can, if that makes sense."

He hid behind them, didn't he? Enjolras realized. "Although, in times like now, spelling out my other thoughts on things does help. Perhaps I'll need to try it again soon. And naturally, I could listen, if you ever were ready to tell your own story. Those parts of it you've kept quiet, at least."

He won't claim to understand everything in Midii's world, but he'd help her too, where and when she feels like sharing. The girl is much younger but she is also a dear friend now. "It would be the least I could do."

"...I think you just proved my point."

She smiled. A light-hearted joke, though he did have a point. The length of conversation rarely varied between them, but the subject matter had. At first, when they spoke, it had felt like he'd been giving speeches. Grandstanding certain morals and ideals. As time passed, though, the topics grew more personal. He spoke less of ideals and more of their shared realities, the similarities between their respective Frances, even with centuries between them.

"I've never been all that good at storytelling." Not the kind that involved her own life; ask her to read a bedtime story, and she could put a two year old to sleep faster than little Michel could get the chance to request an encore. "And it's...not a great story. At least you get to be the good guy in yours."

"Perhaps so." There was a twitch of his lips at that, acknowledging how it went. "I'd guess trust has some role there too. I trust you, so it makes personal things a little easier."

At least in terms of his feelings. And it would be fair to say he'd started out much in the same way. It had gotten better here, in regard to the Grandstanding too. When some of your morals were almost non existent, or things challenged them...you adapted. And when you got to know people, quite a bit of what you'd done or said before faded as you came to know each other better, understood what mattered for the friendship.

And, in terms of this relationship, being quieter, and making things real had become the most important. There was a casual comfort with them now, a way of his mind shutting out the need to argue for something bigger, something more. There was enough here, between them, and he was grateful for that too.

"I get to be the good guy." He repeated, nodding. "I don't know that they'd say that there, but I did have that luxury. Not many people get it."

Obviously, she hadn't. "That's the good thing about being here, though. We can change things for ourselves. You don't have to be anything they told you, now."

He was trying to comfort her. It was a sweet gesture, if his words had been relevant to her past. But they were based on a false assumption, which could only have been made because he wanted to believe that had been the case.

"Nobody told me to be anything. Back home, I mean. I'm not saying it was something I'd wanted to do...but I was still given a choice, and I made it on my own."

A bit, yes. Enjolras was also under the impression that to some degree, society itself could force someone's hand in a particular direction if they had no other way. It did not excuse what they had done, but it made it...slightly more understandable when things like economics, expectations or other factors not so conscious got into the way.

Still, perhaps that was only a factor in his world. It was not HARD to reconcile the idea that Midii had made choices to end up where she was, exactly. A little jarring, at first, but he silently considered her there, and then nodded slowly.

"I can see that, actually. It takes a bit of reconsideration, but it would be as grossly wrong to call you an innocent as it would to blame all the world's wrongs on you." Eponine had been like that, in part. Where there had been choices to be made, she'd made and owned them, even if they were not the best. "We do what we must, I suppose. A pity that options can be seen so differently, though." He wondered what her world must have been like, at that.

It was a grey area. Dark, but with those momentary flashes of light in the distance.

"My family was poor. Is poor." Assuming Time truly did Stand Still while she remained in Keelai, then if she were to ever return, it would be to the exact moment she had come from. Eleven, lost, and far away from Papa and the boys, who were all still alive...so far as she knew. "We lost Mama shortly after Michel was born, and Papa started getting sick after that. The twins were too young to do more than run the occasional errands, so it was up to me to provide for them.

"Then, one day, another group of soldiers came into town. They were...nicer than the last bunch. Some of them even played with the kids in the streets. But they weren't there just for fun. They were looking for kids who'd be willing to go with them for a price."

A good price.

"When they promised we would be paid, regardless of whether we succeeded or failed, I agreed. They sent me to a camp. To train. I was...I don't know, eight or nine at the time. I think. Those days all seemed to blur together."

Enjolras had thought he knew, at least intellectually, what it was like to be poor once. Of course, then he'd actually met people and found out he had no clue. He'd dedicated himself to shutting up, and listening more from that point on, and while he'd gotten better at it, Eponine had taught him, yet again, that there was always more to learn. He didn't nod to show understanding this time, so much as that he was listening to Midii speak.

It wasn't his place to interject with anything, after all, and the circumstances were different than any he'd known. So, instead, he nodded as she spoke, trying to place himself in the situation, to think of how difficult it must have been. Empathy was better than blind sympathy, after all.

"Looking for those..." It was nothing short of slavery, he thought, appalled that it existed in the future, though he could not be SURPRISED by it. The world seemed to run on terms like that, with the weak taken advantage of, instead of aided. He knew very well it happened in many ways, in less than legal ones in his day, but he had hoped, eventually that changes may come. Some things took longer than others, and it seemed to be the wrong ones.

"A choice, after all, then." But not a very balanced one. Stay struggling or feed your family and ensure that they survive. "I should have hoped the world was doing better in terms of what it had to offer those who needed money. More jobs created, and safer ones, if they had to be done by children. Supporting a family so young...I would say outright it should not have happened, but it seems the best option you had. You made a selfless decision and a brave one, from what you've mentioned of your work before."

Only, it should not have fallen onto her shoulders at all. She should have been in school, or perhaps learning a trade that still allowed her time to be a child at times. This was horrific and to think it still went on was rather disheartening.

"A pity the future is never happy as it ought to be. Your world's especially if I remember right."

A choice.

If she could say nothing else about the Alliance, she would readily admit that they never once forced her into anything. Communication had been direct. Honest. They wanted to prepare her for what she was volunteering for, less she or any of the others freak out and run away when the time came. Then, they would be less than useless; they could be a liability.

"You wouldn't think that when you learn what we were trained to do." Her gaze averted. She didn't want to see his reaction until everything was fully explained. Enjoras wore his every emotion in his expression as it hit him, sometimes without waiting until the whole story was told. And there were parts that even Midii would feel that rush of anger towards. "Stealth. Intel. Language. Acting. We had to be convincing. Those of us that were young enough to look unassuming had it easier, but the older ones had to practice feigning ignorance, even as we were schooled in reading and math and basic technology. Sometimes science, if they thought it was necessary. They even gave us History lessons from time to time, so we would know why we were doing what we were doing. Once in a while, we were then sent out in controlled battle settings to get used to the sounds of gunshots..."

Ironically enough, the part she had always hated most had been the part that helped her most, when the time came for her to stare down the barrel of a gun. Which had happened more than once.

"...because...that's where they sent us. Out onto the battlefield. Not to fight, but to infiltrate. We posed as lost orphans who had nowhere else to go, so the soldiers would trust us and take us in. They always did. And...once we were inside their ranks, we would listen to the things they'd discuss when they thought we weren't listening." In her case, sometimes they knew she was there, but didn't care either way. "Then, we'd send what we learned back to the Headquarters. A tracking device we wore told them where the troops were at all times, so they could be kept an eye on. And...ambushed, when it became necessary."

She paused long enough to take a deep breath before lifting her eyes. Ready for his judgement.

"That was what I did. I spied on soldiers and silently led them all to their deaths. None of them ever knew it was me....except for one."

Her only exception. The one she'd risked her own life to save, at the cost of revealing herself to him.

"A spy..."The reality was hard for Enjolras, who had personally shot an imposter among the insurgents, had ordered that Javert, caught spying, be taken prisoner to be judged by the republic, or to be shot should the barricade fall. The condemnation had felt right then; it had BEEN right. Any who would turn their back in such a low down, despicable way as that, deserved judgement for their crimes. Judgment had not specifically meant death at the time, and he had intended to hold Javert until the end, save for the old volunteer who had requested that he settle the man's fate.

He'd agreed to that, and Javert had presumably been dealt with, and...Enjolras was not sure how he'd felt about it, then. He'd been grieving the loss of Jean Prouvaire, running on little sleep, and now found himself second guessing the decision there. If a woman had been the spy, if a child...would he have done the same? Would his condemnation have offered the same fate to either one of those? The truth was that he was unsure. Even now, he despised spies in theory, held them as the lowest of the very low, and had a certain picture in his mind.

Midii did disrupt his image of the spy, being less the sort who crawled upon the ground, and more of the gamine who did what was necessary to survive. When he turned to her, his expression was a little blank, as he tried to keep things in check without turning into the rage monster nobody needed. He'd made his mistakes as well. He'd killed, broken the ties between himself and all humanity. He kept that in mind as he looked to her, and sighed.

"I see." He managed, at last, nodding. There was not much more to say.

A sigh. A nod.

And...not much else.

"Are you mad?"

She wouldn't blame him for being mad. She'd been expecting it.

"A spy and a murderer walk onto a turtle..." Enjolras said, after another moment of what felt like a deeper than usual silence. "We do know how to choose our company, don't we?" It's not meant to be flippant exactly, closer to ironic, as he studies her, not wanting to rush this or to simply scare her off.

"I think it is...not so simple as it used to seem." He said at last, his gaze a little pained as he tried to meet her eyes. "In Paris, I would have been," And particularly at the barricades. "Here, and now, I find it..."

Heavy. Like a deep weight settled in the pit of his stomach, cold, and unable to be moved, or fixed beyond what time would do. He could not be angered, really, not when he, himself, had done so many things that he abhored, and that were wrong in those hours before his death. And more than that besides, there was a brutality in the way it had all happened that could fill someone with something else than fear.

"...Sad, and devastating." He settled on at last. "No one should have such an existence, or a lack of an existence that makes it necessary to resort to methods of that sort. If I am angry, it is not because of you, but because the work was at all possible and outsourced in such a way as that. A shame that you must bear the scars of it so soon." But somehow not a surprise.

There was a tenseness between them now. She could feel it in the silence, and she could feel it in his choice of words. He was being more cautious now. For a fleeting moment she thought he would get angry.

Then he didn't get angry.

A silent breath escaped her. One she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"If I had been in your Paris..." Where, from the sound of things, there were others who might have been able to help her, rather than resort to the Alliance's promises. "...I might not have had to make that choice at all."

It was a different sort of anger, at least, and he directed it towards those who were actually responsible, and not here. Being angry would not have done Midii any good now, and it certainly would not help Enjolras if he alienated her.

He let out his own breath, nodding as she spoke. "I would hope that you would not." He agreed. "It can be hard for everyone to get help, but anyone who came to Les Amis , or who we came into contact with, we did what was possible for us to do to help them. I like to think you may have found your way to us."

"I found you here, didn't I?"

Granted, different circumstances. And a significantly smaller area of travel. But her point still stood.

"And so you did." Perhaps some other hand than theirs had something to do with it. "I do not know much of fate but maybe in some cases, it has a way of pushing us together. You managing to find me here, maybe we were put onto this path for reasons beyond Eshai. Some things do make me wonder."

"You think somebody set all this up on purpose?"

There Is A Flame That Never Dies: Enjolras Catchall!

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