OPEN

[philosophe]

Characters: Combeferre, Enjolras, Jehan Prouvaire, Grantaire, and YOU probably!
Date: February 23
Location: A smallish cafe in the Wood sector!
Situation: Discussion of politics and philosophy and culture and possibly shenanigans, we never can tell with these guys.
Warnings/Rating: ...UH. G, maybe PG? Idek what they'll talk about.



[The cafe wasn't too far from their various tree-houses, reasonably priced and in a place where it could be easily found by passers-by. They had adopted it once they had all felt well enough to go wandering about their new home, it was comfortable and pleasant and very nearly reminded Combeferre of home. Certainly it would never be quite the same as the Musain, and he did not expect it to be.

But it would do, for now. So for the moment, he is quietly ensconced with his friends in a back corner. They are discussing things amongst themselves, waiting to see if anyone will accept Enjolras' offer and join them. Hopefully, this wouldn't turn out as horribly as Marius' introduction to Les Amis de l'ABC. That would remain to be seen. Suffice to say, if Combeferre recognizes anyone, he will be waving them over with a welcoming grin.]

Comments

[monstrous]

[With elbows on the table, Toby smiles earnestly and takes another sip of his drink] Oh, that's actually my favourite kind. Any other sort is just self congratulatory.

[depicted]

[It did indeed work. Dorian glances at Toby.]

For once, Toby is right about something aesthetic. The more optimism is detached from reality, the more artistic it becomes. The oratory is more beautiful and the results more poetically doomed. It makes politics look like a tragedy instead of a farce.

Will you join us, Grantaire?

[cynisme]

[At the sight of Toby, his eyebrows shoot up.]

Shit, you not only sound like Joly but you look like him too. Either I'm too drunk, which is never the case, or you could be related.

[Upon being asked to join, he grabs his plate of frites and joins them, sliding up and into a seat and propping his feet up on another chair entirely. He drinks from his flask, shaking it then to hear how much is left. Not enough.]

You would do well to drink if you intend on saying that around them. They only tolerate my condescension because they're used to me, that and I know how to have a damn good time with the street people of Paris. Without Paris and without sacrifices like mine, you might have a harder time getting away with rational though cynical talk. They wouldn't listen to me when I told them that they were all going to die for nothing, they sure as hell won't listen to you.

[monstrous]

I've heard as much. Either that or I somehow have a bizarro twin version of myself that was a French Revolutionary. [he likes that one much better]

And I wasn't being condescending. I really do like that sort of optimism. It takes a special outlook and talent to see hope where there doesn't appear to be any.

[depicted]

[As much as Grantaire makes a presence of himself, it is impossible not to watch to Toby at those words. When he speaks, it is quietly, to himself.] To live like that is to be incomplete. You need beauty and death, together.

[His fingers briefly brush against Toby's wrist.]

[And then he is all smiles for Grantaire, his voice back to its usual volume.]

I agree with Toby. And besides, I'm in accord, for the most part, with the views of your friends about their ideal society. I merely have a less optimistic view of humanity's ability to create a world like that.

[cynisme]

a talent it may be, but a counterproductive one, and they will still think it condescending even if you didn't mean it as such.

[the gentle touching, the brightness of Dorian that hadn't been there prior ( in the one conversation they really had) is not lost on Grantaire. he recognizes it enough to guess, for the moment, but not to say anything.

An ass he may be, but he's not cruel.

he can't help but glance at enjolras through, the way he always would whenever musichetta would come to collect Joly, or whenever Jehan went on about some sublime amour. it's loneliness, really, a desperation for what they have.

another frite, and he continues, attention back to Dorian and Toby. ]

you misunderstand, I agree with them, anyone with a sympathetic bone in their body would, I just understand that what would be best is never really going to happen. humanity is too selfish for that.

[monstrous]

[Toby looks down at Dorian's words, but he shakes it off when Dorian's voice returns to its normal volume.]

[Toby follows Grantaire's gaze, but he only looks at Enjolras for a moment before his attention returns to Dorian and Graintaire. He can't help but laugh at Grantaire's assessment, amused more than anything else] So you think most of humanity lacks decency and sympathy? A revolutionary cynic, that's quite a combination.

[depicted]

[Dorian doesn't speak himself. He drinks as he waits on Grantaire's response.]

[cynisme]

Isn't it? [A terse smile, but a smile none the less, as he noms, oh and how he does nom. This stuff is good, even if it's not french at all. Dutch, really.]

We all have inalienable rights, etcetra etcetra etcetera, but you'll be hard pressed to find people who would be willing to give up their comforts for the sake of the people, much less those willing to die for them. Would you disagree?

[monstrous]

Then why even bother fighting for them if they wouldn't even be willing to fight for themselves, let alone their fellow man? Your friend there is pointlessly optimistic, as you said, so I can see why he's still fighting the good fight. What's in it for you? [Toby's hand idly brushes across Dorian's hand. Toby's movements are borderline lazy as his hand moves away from Dorian so Toby can scratch at his own hair. He smiles at Grantaire, before grabbing a frite off of Grantaire's plate. He pauses before taking a bite.] Do you mind?

[depicted]

I hate to interrupt the cynicism, but it isn't entirely hopeless. For all their flaws, I hear modern Scandinavian nations are doing a fair job with socialism, and certainly better than Russia and China did with communism. [To Toby] The Berlin Wall came down in November of '89, by the way. Oh! And even better, Doctor Who got revived in 2005. [Dorian knows Toby's priorities.]

[Toby's touch creates in Dorian the thoughtless smile of one in love. But Dorian is still thinking well enough that, when his own drink runs out, he takes Toby's while Toby takes Grantaire's fry.]

[cynisme]

[Why is a question he's been asked many times, to which his answer is always different. To Joly, he claims that he's bored, to Jehan that he wants to see the train wreck. To Bahorel that he enjoys their company, to Enjolras the truth of it, that he believes in him.

He always has a different answer for each situation, each environment, and this particular one gives him pause.

He hadn't been sure about Toby and Dorian being intimate before, but he is now. Somehow, their intimacy is comforting, even if it makes him a touch jealous. Who would he be if he were not, at some point, jealous of everyone around him? Not a cynic and an alcoholic, that's for sure.]

No one loves the sun like a blind man.

[He waves for Toby to take what he wants and he drains the last of his flask, disappointment evident the moment he realizes that it's empty.]

Tell me all about whatever you just said once you come back with drinks, one for me too chère.

[monstrous]

[Toby bites into the fry. He nods towards Enjolras and smiles sweetly at Grantaire] And how does the sun feel?

[Toby looks like a kid on Christmas, looking over at Dorian to make sure he's not being tricked] They really brought it back? You're not just saying that, you're too smart for that sort of wind up, yeah? [If this is true, Toby might have more faith in humanity than he did a second ago]

[depicted]

[Dorian sighs, but he is smiling. While Grantaire loves the sun, Dorian has a universe made of summer nights.] They really did. They're on the Tenth Doctor.

[Dorian gets to his feet, finishing off Toby's drink before setting it down. He is accustomed to charming others into getting drinks and the like for him, but for Toby? Fetching drinks is practically ingrained in him by now.]

Tell our friend about the Cold War, and whatever else you like, while I get us all another round.

[He flashes Grantaire a smile before heading off for their drinks.]

[cynisme]

Bright.

[It's the best answer, really. Enjolras has never been particularly warm, and Grantaire has yet to be blinded by his words beyond the point of rebuttal. Bright though, illuminating and shining through the darkness? Yes, that's the word for it.

Of course he loses track of whatever Dorian and Toby are talking about, looking between the two. He's almost immune to Dorian's smile with his own apollonian beauty to adore, but Dorian really is beautiful. Not Enjolras though, and never will be.]

Alright, regale me with stories of this Cold War. Did it take place in Russia?

[He smirks at his own joke. That was what ruined Napoleon after all. He also takes the moment to actually look at Toby. Another beautiful man, but still not Enjolras. Probably for the best, given their...intimacy.]

[monstrous]

[Toby is genuinely surprised at Grantaire's joke. He pauses, before he covers his face and starts laughing] Yeah, something like that. Or entirely like that in fact. You know, I'm not entirely sure how it ended. I'm assuming the west won, but can't be one hundred percent. We'll check with Dorian when he gets back here.

[Toby glances at Dorian, and then leans towards Grantaire a little more] But the sun's overrated I'd say. Yeah, a blind man can appreciate it cause he thinks it's what he wants. But why waste all that time pining away for something he can't experience? He's still got four other perfectly good senses, he might as well appreciate the things he has a chance of actually experiencing instead.

[depicted]

[Dorian, having ordered the drinks, glances back at them, as if he notices Toby's gaze. And he smiles. Toby is probably being trouble. It's one of the many charming things about him.]

[And that's one more round before Dorian comes back.]

[cynisme]

[Toby is right, of course. Every cynical bone in Grantaire's body has quivered at the thought of that every time it's crossed his mind. This is stupid, this is folly, you don't need Enjolras any more than Enjolras needs you. The fact of the matter is, though, that he longs to experience it. That's the cycle, that need to experience something warmer than his own clammy heart could manage on it's own, to see what was so beautiful about the sun's light that he couldn't manage on his own.

They all seemed to happy in it's rays, even if that happiness was born from ignorance. There's something about it that pulls him in like a moth to a bright, flickering flame, distracting from the right, real path set by the moonlight, something that would fill the void in his heart that should be filled with positive emotion but remains drained by his own intellect.]

I don't want the sun, I want to be moved by it like everyone else seems to be. I just happened to find that the sun is so much brighter in person than anyone used to candlelight could expect. Care and curiosity will kill the cat, or in this case the drunkard. You can't tell me that you would be satisfied not knowing what the sun feels like when everyone else experiences it so vibrantly.

[He leans forward himself, then, and would maybe attribute his own honesty in this case to the drink--as he usually does, he doesn't have many secrets because of it.]

I expected the sun to disappoint me or kill me, and it did just that.

[monstrous]

[There is a slight hesitation. Toby's smile falters and his eyes dart towards Dorian, happy he's not at the table right now. After a few seconds Toby smiles at Grantaire again]

At least your expectations are in check. So what was it then, just death or did you have the disappointment to boot?

[depicted]

[Interrupting Grantaire's horribly relevant metaphor, Dorian finally returns with the drinks. Oblivious, he grabs his own and drops down beside Toby.]

This doesn't sound like the Cold War. In fact, it sounds a little more like the Smiths. [to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die]

[cynisme]

Death, obviously, though seeing as we somehow continue to live despite being brutally murdered by the national guard, the verdict on disappointment is subject to change.

[He waves his hand, as if to wave the conversation off, that bubble of hope and that bubble of doubt coming together again, ready to pop, and goes for his drink when Dorian returns. He smiles in thanks, shrugging himself into a more comfortable position.]

We were discussing a painful affliction, of which I am currently, surprisingly, not disappointed. Et alors, the Cold War. You get a bonus if you can explain it to me before I've finished my drink.