There Is A Flame That Never Dies: Enjolras Catchall!

[solo_patria]

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!)

Comments

[peacefullywreathed]

Not only idealistic, but dramatic as well. As annoying as those tendencies could be when directed at Solomon, they were absolutely amusing when viewed from the side. Worth the affiliation all on its own, but with added allusion to 'barricade' from a Frenchman ...

Interesting.

He took the tea quietly, more interested in listening to the conversation than in participating, since he could give an update on his investigation afterward.

"Well ..." The kedan paused, somewhat nonplussed by the fact he had to think about it. "I don't remember it being very difficult. I don't remember many things being difficult, before the nightmare was killed. A lot of things were challenging or took some time to do, but that isn't the same as being difficult. One day you weren't there and one day you were. We were told you were going to stop the nightmare and that was a good thing, so we didn't have any reason to object. You understand?"

[solo_patria]

They COULD at that. Grantaire had been amused by them enough times, as well as irritated, and had made that clear to an often exasperated-with-him-leader's face. Enjolras, especially, perhaps, had the tendency among others. Although being here had helped him to step down a little, from the summit of a barricade, there were moments still, when he saw only what things could be viewed from that great height, the ideal of human civilization, the true republic of men, and the things necessary to get to it, the great injustices to be overturned to protect that ideal instead of the day to day steps involved in getting there.

And, sometimes, he still did sound quite a bit...well.


Enjolras noted the kedan's pause, and he could chalk it up to the things that had happened to them in the year's time everyone had been away. Remarkable, still, that it had, and not something he would have changed for the world.

"We did rather vanish on you." Enjolras had to agree, frowning at the way it must have looked, and felt to them. Challenging, but not difficult. It helped to know, actually, that things had felt that way. Perhaps the foreigners had had more difficulties in terms of fathoming what to do, and that was part of the problem. Not a thought he would de-value anyway. "That does make sense, from your perspective, worrying as I imagine it could have been."

[peacefullywreathed]

"It wasn't the vanishing," the kedan tried to explain, and then stopped. "Exactly. It was ... thinking about you afterward. It was ..." He was clearly struggling, even to Solomon who only had his tone to go on, but finally the kedan tried to explain, "It was like a veil lifting. Or ... taking control of a dream. When the nightmare was gone. That was how we knew he had, you see, because we could think clearly. Not that we didn't have feelings beforehand, but after ... I'm a mason. I've improved on some of my father's work. But until the nightmare was gone I never looked at a stone and wondered what it could be, or imagined that it could be something other than a variant of what my family has made for generations."

He fiddled with his cup. Solomon wordlessly lifted his to take a sip. "Some people, once they realised they could imagine, looked back on what things were like when you Foreigners were here and ... didn't like what they remembered. So they didn't like it when you came back, either. Not that I mind." This was said quick. "As I said, I'd never actually met a Foreigner before Detective Wreath."

And that had taken some convincing, too, Solomon thought wryly, but in light of the kedan's eagerness not to be seen as a bad person, and Solomon's desire not to antagonise one of his few patrons, he left note of that.