tushanshu_logs | Let others rise to take our place

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Let others rise to take our place

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.]

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Truly, I have seen him and tended his wounds myself. [Now he is all concern, though, sitting down next to Enjolras with a faint sigh of relief on his own part. Perhaps exploring wasn't the best idea after all.]

Yes, let us do so. [With a grin, he continues with a nod at the building Enjolras indicated.] We may be neighbors.

[Wounds- of course. They would all have wounds. Talk of their housing momentarily forgotten, Enjolras' hand instinctively moves to Combeferre's waistcoat and the bayonet wounds there. He forces himself to remember their creation; his friends death. It would be utmost cowardice not to honour a sacrifice as great as this.

His fingers rest on the tear closest to his heart.] I thank you, my most dear and brave Combeferre.

[He tenses a little--minutely, but surely Enjolras can feel it, the wounds are still tender and raw, though thankfully bandaged now. Even so, he cannot help but smile at such words from his dearest friend, and he reaches to squeeze Enjolras' hand.]

There is no need, Michel. I knew what was to come, as did you. I would never have left you.

[His touch remains as gentle as he can manage, his own chest sensitive to every move he makes. He shakes his head, even as he grips Combeferre's hand.] No, do not say that, my friend.

[His mind rebels at the thought that the amis might have died for him, for Michel Enjolras. He is a man, and to ask others to die for his sake would be the most vile betrayal of their brotherhood.

It would break him to think their lives were spent in his name.]

We stood together for France and the République.

[He did not, but he would gladly do so, if he ever got the chance.] I know. I will still say it. I would never have left you, nor France, nor the République. Very likely not even if you ordered me to do so.

[He brushes a thumb over Enjolras', smiling a little.] I do not regret it, you must not think I do.

[Combeferre's words stir him, and he feels more himself again than he has since arriving in this strange land.]

What is there to regret? We are now martyrs for France, like so many before us.

There is nothing to regret, I would not change it. We made our choices and so did everyone else. [His voice is soft and musing, but it warms a little when he comes to his next subject.]

And -- perhaps the rest of us will come.

[And though Paris slept and allowed them to die- they cannot rest in their apathy forever.]

It is possible. From what my guides would tell me, I understand that this city is large, it's population around [population size]. They may not have ventured beyond their rooms yet.

Perhaps not. I had thought to, but -- [He moves to shrug, and winces.] I feel I am not entirely fit for walking long distances at the present.

[His brown creases in concern again. It seems Combeferre's wounds are more serious that he had thought.] If they are here we will find them. That is my promise.

[Bayonets are nasty things, as 'Ferre has recently come to learn. He has been bandaged and stitched, but even so. Healing will take time, which is somewhat annoying when all he wants to do is explore.] Then I have all faith that we will. [It's almost playful, this smile, and he gives Enjolras a very small nudge.]

I am pleased you are here, it would -- be very strange without you. That is not to say it is not very strange in itself, Jehan tells me he saw blue-skinned people. I am not certain if I did, I was -- not present for most of the journey to this city.

Should you be about?

[Enjolras can confirm many details about the city- he was aware enough during his trip here to have noticed the slightly inhuman nature of the residents here.]

I am fine enough to walk a bit, though probably not for too long. The road was -- not kind to my, ah, gifts from our dear guardsmen.

Do not worry though, as I said, they have been tended to. ['Ferre was awake during the trip, at least, but mostly concentrating on trying to stop the bleeding, drifting in and out of vague theories on the afterlife, and ...well, rather a lot of pain.]

[His face darkens at the memory and he does not altogether believe that Combeferre is being honest about the extent of his injuries, but he will not vex the matter.]

Then I can confirm that there is a blue hue to the skin of the people here. They are both like and unlike men; some with extra digits, others with inhuman additions to their persons.

I do not yet know what to make of them.

But primarily the same shape? How curious. [He's lost in pondering this for a moment, but shakes his head.]

Forgive me, I was only thinking. Is there anything else you have noticed?

No, that is the extent of what I could gather from afar. Someone with greater knowledge of anatomy would be able to discover more, I believe.

Then I shall be certain to watch carefully when we do go out.

[He nods.]

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

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.

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

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

[That brings a half-smile to his face. Combeferre, you are the best friend a man could ask for.]

There is a palace, they said. It should not be hard to find if we ask.

When we are fit for it, then we shall go to it if we can. [He's smiling back, honestly. It's always good to have something to look forward to, after all, especially with Enjolras by his side.]

Speaking of fit- [Enjolras pauses, looking down at his blood-stained shirt and vest.] would you look me over, to ensure I am in no danger from my wounds?

I removed the pieces of shrapnel I could find and washed my wounds out, but I do not wish to be taken unawares by something I have overlooked.

Of course, you needn't ask. Did they all go through, or were there some you could not get at?

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idealisme - 2013-02-18 09:24 (UTC) - Expand

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philosophe - 2013-02-18 21:29 (UTC) - Expand

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