Let others rise to take our place

[idealisme]

Characters: Enjolras, open
Date: The evening of his arrival
Location: Sitting somewhere around the Wood sector, near his suite.
Situation: Enjolras is alive and doesn't really want to talk to anyone on the magical talking box yet.
Warnings/Rating: None? Talk of martyrdom, injury




[It was strange here, but peaceful.

Peaceful was what Enjolras needed at the present moment, with his thoughts so very tumultuous. It had not been a day, in his estimation, since the barricade around the Corinthe and their revolution had been cut short. It was hard to believe, sitting on this bench in the evening sun, that the past few hours were not all a dream of violence and passion.

He was grounded by the state of his clothes. The ocean had washed most of the blood away and something had staunched the bleeding, but the bullet holes were there on his vest, and there were marks on his skin beneath which could only be caused by musket fire.

He should see a doctor, he knew. But he did not wish to deal with the after yet. For now he simply wanted to sit, in the late evening sun, in all of his wretched and bloody state, and think on this:

He had died for the Republic.




But should anyone come along and wish to talk, then he would welcome that also.]

Comments

[idealisme]

[That sounds nothing at all like any religion Enjolras is familiar with, though he cares little enough about it that it may be excused.]

If there is a God, monsieur, I cannot myself believe in his goodness. Not if it is his desire that the people's freedoms and rights be subjugated to the will of an oppressive monarchy.

[virginprice]

[Alcuin can allow that a monarchy may be oppressive. Terre d'Ange has had pretty great monarchs, though, so he doesn't like the thought that they all are...]

The desires of the gods do not always accord with what those who call themselves their followers will do. Their followers are men, after all, with all the faults and strengths that come with that. At home, at least, our gods are real, but they do not reach out to control our movements, or our governments.

[idealisme]

Monsieur, we are speaking French.

[And as far as Enjolras can tell, Cobb's accent has just markedly improved from that of an American to that of a native.]

[poeticverses]

[He returns the embrace again, clinging a little]

I am glad of that. What else does a poet dream of but his words having an effect on others? What else could a friend want but to encourage his companions to fight on, except perhaps to join them after the end?

[idealisme]

[He nods.]

Those who brought me here were most unwilling to discuss any matters of significance. Was it the same for you?

[littlecousin]

[Nita follows his gaze the first time he looks past her shoulder to see who's approaching from behind, but looks back at him when she sees no one. Maybe he's shell-shocked or whatever.]

I don't think so. I think you maybe aren't really dead. You might just have gotten lucky and were only mostly dead when you got here. Injuries that would have killed you in 18-whatever are easy enough to heal with magic here.

[She shrugs as though this is a normal conversation--which it is, for her.]

[philosophe]

Perhaps they do not know, and it is not that they are unwilling. I confess I was not in a state for very many questions to be asked.

[idealisme]

[The distinction between a God and his followers seems a petty one, to Enjolras. What good is a God who cannot make his wishes known, and what good are followers who do not do his will?]

What proof do you have that your Gods are real? The God of my world seems quite unwilling to provide certain proof of his existence.

[virginprice]

[It's a different sort of god, perhaps, one who does not so much order as guide and suggest.]

We carry their stamp in our blood and bones. They are not only our gods, but those from who we are descended, after all. [He didn't get to be this pretty by accident. There is divine blood in him.] We have the gifts they have given us. It may be thin, but it is there.

[idealisme]

[He nods, affirming the sentiment.] I can think of little else.

Combeferre has told you how our revolution ended?

[poeticverses]

[Jehan falls silent, shaking his head. When he manages to speak again, he's just a little choked up]

I didn't have to ask.

[idealisme]

[Enjolras is a little taken aback, though he is certain Jehan means only that Combeferre's presence after his death will have implied all their deaths.]

Take it as a victory, my friend. A victory against the complacency which would have us give up our rights to live under an oppressive monarch.

[poeticverses]

[He does. He couldn't think of any other outcome, if Combeferre was dead. And then Enjolras showed up and sealed it.

They failed]

A victory for us, perhaps, but not one for France, though I hate to say it.

[idealisme]

[Incredulous, Enjolras looks down at his vest, and the pattern of holes left my the bullets. He imagines he can still feel the bullets lodged under his skin.]

Magic, mademoiselle? There is no such thing.

[idealisme]

No! [He cannot help the cry. Both hands now grip Jehan's shoulders firmly. This is important, and his voice grows impassioned. He becomes more himself as he speaks, regains some of the fire he has been lacking so far.]

Do you think we fought for ourselves? Think that no longer! We died in the name of the Republic. A state which will allow man to flourish as he should, free of oppression. 'Long live the Republic?' That is what we cried in our deaths, so that the people would continue to cry it in their lives.

Every man who dies for the Republic is a victory for the France that is still to come; a blow to the Monarchy which is even now in it's death throes. It cannot last, my brother. The people did not join us, but they will not sit in complacency forever.

[poeticverses]

[Everything today--from waking up to finding his friends--had been starting to sit on Jehan, make him sick and feel depressed. He knew he'd snap out of it, eventually, like he always did when he started feeling like this. Melancholy was just another emotion, a mood, something he flitted through given enough time. Seeing Combeferre so injured and Enjolras so...extinguished hadn't helped.

And then he spoke to Enjolras. It's easy to see why he could ensnare even Grantaire, when he got going. His passion bleeds over into Jehan, and the poet sits a little straighter on the bench, smiling]

You are right, of course. I knew that before and I know that now. Forgive me, Enjolras, for letting my black mood overtake me, even just for a moment. Today has not been the kindest on anyone--I was being swept up by the confusion and the pain of it all. I am sorry we will not see a free France, but I am not sorry we died for her.

[idealisme]

They will not say what our purpose here is, only that a so-called Emperor is behind it.

[littlecousin]

[Nita checks to see if he's joking before laughing at him. Enjolras seems to be serious, so she manages not to giggle.]

Maybe not where you're from.

[squint]

[ Cobb raises his brow and--well, perhaps. It's possible, at least. After all, there's a giant turtle we're all on the back of.

His smile twists--just slightly. ]

I've never been much of a history buff, but I'm from 2010.

[idealisme]

[A slight frown.] I have just departed Paris, 1832.

A friend told me such incongruities in time were possible, but I did not believe him.

[philosophe]

Then we should try and find this Emperor, I think.

[trainwrecked]

[And Bucky eyes him for a moment.]

You know about bacterial infections, right? The reason that makes inflammations and such? The reason why wounds need to be cleaned and bandaged before they can become problematic?

[idealisme]

Do not speak of needing forgiveness, rather let us support each other, as good brothers should.

[Enjolras returns the smile, though his is a little more restrained. Ever the poet, he is aware that Jehan feels the broad spectrum of human emotion much more keenly that he does himself.]

We are none of us ourselves at the moment, Prouvaire. There is much that we will have to talk over and reflect on in the coming days, and I doubt we shall feel fully capable again until all our wounds are healed.

[poeticverses]

True. Do you need help getting to Combeferre's? It's not far, but...

[He gestures to Enjolras's shirt]

You are more injured than I am.

[squint]

There's going to be a lot more you're going to find unbelievable. There are still some things I can't wrap my head around.