[open]

[knowsherway]

Characters: Éponine Thénardier and Open!.
Date: April 6.
Location: The Wood Sector.
Situation: Éponine arrives in Tu Vishan, and her first order of business is to wander around the Wood Sector, completely confused, but eventually, said confusion gives way to a bit of curiosity. She'll be bemused for the most part, but Thénardiers are a bit like cats in that they can land on their feet.
Warnings/Rating: PG-13 for possible references to past violence. I'll be starting with prose, but I'm flexible about formatting.



Sometimes, it was all too simple to tell when one was lying and when one was not. But try as she might, Éponine could not make out if these kedan, as they said they were called, were trying to make a fool of her with their strange tale. There could not really be a place between life, death, and dreaming, could there? Nor could there be a place that was neither heaven nor hell.

Éponine remembered the confusion she felt upon hearing this, confusion that was deepened by the fleeting memories of her own death. Or perhaps she had not died at all, even if that failed to explain the blood-stained state of the blouse and trousers that she wore.

Why were her clothes torn and in such a state? Why did she feel so turned about? There was a fight, a fight with guns and bullets and loud sounds. She could recall that much, even if all the rest was flashes and blurs and faces she couldn't quite make out.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear her thoughts. Something was happening, something strange,, and she meant to find out what that something was. But no sooner had she taken a step forward, she found her progress impeded by a person that she had failed to notice until that very moment.

"Oh! I am sorry, I did not see you."

Surely it was not too difficult a thing to understand Éponine's state of confusion and bewilderment in light of everything she had seen and been told.

Comments

[saisamour]

With landfall nearing came a growing determination in Marius to purchase an engagement ring for Cosette. Of course, there was still the matter of receiving the blessings of both their guardians, but he will surely deal with that later; landfall was close and he should first focus on that.

It had been difficult to get a job within Keeliai, but he did have some belongings he had no use of that he could exchange for money. Despite the odd behavior of the kedan towards him (almost hostile, now that he thought of it, though why that was so he could not say; perhaps he looked too untrustworthy, with his cheap, second-hand clothing?) he did manage to sell off most of his furniture, leaving in his possessions a table, one chair, the closet containing a few changes of clothes, the bed and mattress, and, of course, the box-like device that seemed essential for communication between fellow foreigners.

Heading home with what he estimated was enough juulan to purchase a modest engagement ring, thoughts of how to make the purchase without Cosette knowing now distracted him.

And that was how Marius, with his head in the clouds as usual, failed to pay any attention to his surroundings until the apology dragged him back to the present.

He was about to issue one of his own, but it died on his tongue the moment he recognized the girl before him. With the sudden jolt back to reality combined with the unexpected meeting, he could only utter in surprise, without thinking, "Eponine."

[knowsherway]

Eponine was no better off than Marius. First, her expression turned to one of gladness to see him, but it was short-lived and quickly replaced with a sort of bewilderment. It hadn't been too difficult for her to believe the kedan when they told her that she had been brought to a land that was an in-between place, somewhere between, life, death, and dreams, but she had not expected to see Marius there.

She knew that she had hoped that she and Marius would die at the barricades, and that she would go before him, but at the very last moment, she had put herself in the way of a gun that was being aimed at him.

Had he died anyway, in spite of her rash last act? She frowned, but then remembering that he was still standing there in front of her, which clearly meant that words were necessary. "Monsieur Marius?"

[saisamour]

He was at a loss of words, now that his gaze drifted to her blood-stained clothing. It was what she had worn at the barricades, wasn't it? His brows drew together as an image sharpened from the blurry haze that was his memories. A vision of her with her head on his lap, the blood spurting from her chest, her life slowly draining away and him unable to do anything but watch her die and there was blood, just blood everywhere—

He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head and forced the memories back to the deepest corners of his mind. "Yes."

When he opened them, he gave her a small smile, as tender as the way he kissed her forehead after she had left their world, after her confession to him. "Yes, it is I."

An irritated kedan snarled at them at that point, "Would you even rob us of our walk space, damn outsiders?" and Marius, flustered, reached out for Eponine's wrist in an attempt to guide her out of the way.

[knowsherway]

She waited quietly, a curious expression on her face, watching as Marius seemed to retreat to a time gone by. She could only guess at what was on his mind, but there were several possibilities that she could name. But the moment passed, and soon, Marius was back to himself.

Fancy clothes and money and pretty things were very nice, but they paled in comparison to the way she felt when Marius smiled at her and talked to her. His voice was one of those voices that had the ability to send shivers down the spine. Or perhaps it was because there was a chill in the air.

She gives him a good looking over, curious and wondering if he is whole and well. He certainly seems that way, which does bring some measure of relief to Eponine, a relief that she can't quite understand, because she wasn't exactly worried about the young Pontmercy, was she?

Shaking her head, she looks back up at him, only to be distracted by the irritated kedan. She glares at him, an angry retort on the tip of her tongue, but Marius's hand on her wrist diverts her attention once more.

"Monsieur, will you tell me how you are? You seem well, of course, but I do like to hear you talk." Because Marius's voice is wonderful, even more wonderful than songbirds and the sound of rivers. But also, Eponine would like more details than were told to her by the kedan, so if Marius knows anything more, she would like to hear it very much.

[saisamour]

If only Marius could hear her thoughts! But he simply believed that she was still in a state of shock, and that was what made her speak those unguarded words to him.

The crudeness of the kedan was quickly forgotten. He recalled instead his arrival in Keeliai. She seemed in no better off a state than he had been back then, at least not from what he could see. The same deep compassion he felt for her the moment of her death at the barricades surged from within him once more, pushing him to ask her, "Before that, are you wounded? Do you need attending to?" He still had not let go of her wrist.

[polyhistor]

He never really considered himself an artist. Oh, he can draw, but the way he does it is entirely mathematical. He's not artistic. But he does enjoy it, in a cathartic sense of the word. It's something to do, something that can take his mind off the overwhelming helplessness of the situation he's in.

That they're all in, honestly.

He's sure that some people have come to prefer it here. That they, if given the chance, would choose to stay rather than to return to their own worlds, either because of the bonds they've made or maybe the fact that Keeliai is a clear improvement over their accustomed living conditions. But he'd leave in a heartbeat, if he could. After going almost his entire life without fitting in anywhere only to find a team he was part of--

Functioning without it is... difficult. Not impossible by any mans, but it's unpleasant enough that he fills most of his waking hours with whatever he can do to keep himself from thinking about it.

Thus, the sketching. He only has a few sheets of paper left, but something about the symmetry of this building has been bothering him for a while, so he's holding a hardcover book of poetry as a tablet and backing up away from a building as he commits its bold architectural lines to paper. Which is, consequently, what causes him to bump into the-- young girl?

He's about to tell her it's okay - it was his fault anyway, but the state of her clothes sets off more than just one warning bell. "Hey-- are you all right?" Given the tensions in the kedan community lately, it's entirely possible she was attacked, or is newly arrived. Either way, he's suddenly hyper aware of the gun on his hip.

[knowsherway]

There is a pause in which Eponine takes in the man's appearance: the paper, the book, and his focus on the building before he was interrupted by walking into her makes him seem a curious fellow. Perhaps he is a student or a lawyer like Marius. He seems to be around the same age, but Eponine is hardly the best judge of age.

"Don't you fret, Monsieur. It was my fault, because I was not looking where I was going." She tilts her head to one side, still looking at the paper and the book he carries, but she answers his question with a nod. "I am just fine." Confused, and lost, and definitely a bit disoriented, perhaps, but otherwise, she believes she is fine.

[polyhistor]

"I think we're both guilty of that, it's all right." People tend to arrive in groups, and both the style of the clothing she wears and the particular manner in which she speaks makes him think of Jehan and Enjorlas. Someone else from the 1830s?

He cants his head to one side, tucks the book of poetry and his drawing away in the bag at his side. He's never been good with strangers, much less teenaged girls. The fact that she doesn't seem alarmed threw him off - he'd almost prefer panic, as much as he wouldn't want to wish the situations that cause it on anyone. But at least then he'd have a professional frame of reference in which to deal with it.

"I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, but were you-- um, did someone try to hurt you recently?"

Spencer Reid: first class genius and social failure.

[knowsherway]

There seems little reason to panic; the little that Eponine has seen of this place she has landed in has convinced her that it is a far better place than the one she had left behind. Here, she has money and a room, even a room with more than one floor, so there doesn't seem to be much of a reason to wish to return to her former location.

"Oh!" She has just remembered the poor state of her clothes: the blood and the tears in the fabric. "Why, I had nearly forgotten. It was a gun, monsieur, and I put myself in front of it."

That explanation is hardly accurate, but it hasn't occurred to her to explain just why she put herself in front of a gun. "It is a curious thing, because I did not plan for that."

[polyhistor]

He's met people who are more nonchalant about being shot, but nearly all of them wear a badge. But the blood is-- dried? So unless it's an old wound and she hasn't had the opportunity to get new clothes (possible, given the rationing) or she, like the others, is dead. The placement of the tears suggests a wound that, in the 1830s (if his hypothesis is correct) would have been fatal. He doesn't pry.

And then there's the fact that she's so... matter-of-fact about it that it's putting him at ease despite the circumstances.

"I don't think anyone plans on getting shot." He fidgets with the strap of his bag, and then lifts it off over his head, and takes off his jacket. It's still early enough in the spring season to be cold in Keeliai. After a brief hesitation, he holds it out.

"Here. Until we can find you something a little less torn up, okay? I'm Spencer."

[trainwrecked]

"Ma'am?"

Bucky's reactions, distracted as he may be these days, were pretty good. He caught and steadied the - young woman. And then he smiled down at her, calmly.

"You all right? New here?"

[knowsherway]

"Oh!" Eponine exclaimed again, as she walked into someone, nearly falling against him before she caught herself and he steadied her.

"I think that I am well, at least. Or well enough, after that long cart ride." After six hours or however long it had been, Eponine was definitely feeling some measure of stiffness from sitting for that long. But she doesn't seem too perturbed, at least. "I've never seen a place quite like this before," she said while she glanced around her, taking in the surrounding scenery.

[trainwrecked]

"No? Yeah, I hadn't, either."

His arm stayed on her for another warm moment, then dropped easily to his sides.

"But I've been here for months, now, so - if you're curious about any of this, I can be your guide?"

[knowsherway]

"The buildings look quite different," she said, while turning to glance at the closest one. It was all very interesting to her, and it seemed like quite the stroke of luck that there was someone who was willing to be her guide. She was quite capable of navigating the streets on her own, although doing so would increase her chances of becoming turned about.

For the moment, it seemed that accepting Bucky's offer was the thing to do. "I would like that very much, if you have the time!"

[trainwrecked]

"It'd be my pleasure." He gave an easy nod, then motioned out. "You get used to them. Not in a bad way. This is the Wood Sector, basically the greener. Your place - the one where the kedan took you to - is here? Or did you walk over here from someplace else?"

[chiot]

Gavroche isn't the one Eponine bumps in to--but he does see it. It's the wood sector he likes the most; even if the place is rotting, he can still balance on the trees and climb them like the buildings of Paris. Like his elephant.

He likes to look for things. Out of place things, different things. Mostly so he can swipe them, or at least investigates. What he finds catching his eye is not a thing, but a person.

He's got the same meat but from the same vendor he'd blown all of his Juulan on the first time he was here. The keelai had given him a lot more problems, even upped the price, but Gavroche could spare a few coins (and what an odd thing to think about!).

He whistles sharply, knowing he's going to catch the man's attention. It's the blood.

"Your bleedin', monsieur. You look like you came off the barricades."

[knowsherway]

After a short while of walking around the wood sector, Eponine was beginning to find that she was gradually becoming less dazed and disoriented. There is still a lot to take in, but now she's beginning to feel somewhat more alert and a little bit more like herself.

She glances up at a nearby tree when she hears a whistle coming from that direction. There, sitting in the tree is a boy, and to her surprise, she recognizes him.

For a few moments, she simply stares, because this is one conversation that she is very much unprepared to have. He should not know what became of her, but now that he's there, it seems inevitable.

A wild thought comes to her mind: he seems to not know who she is, so perhaps she can keep up the facade. But lying to him would accomplish nothing, and so she answers him.

"I have come from the barricades, but do not fret. It has mostly stopped, now." And it has. Her wounds are freshly healed though still tender to the touch.

[chiot]

Gavroche's eyes narrow, and he takes in the other. Really looks, eyes raking over the figure, taking in the features, and--

"Eponine."

There's no joy in it. Nor is there sorrow--there's hardly any emotion from the little boy as he snakes down the tree expertly and takes a few more steps. His own clothes are the exact same as they were when he arrived--probably more than a little smelly, probably kind of gross--but he doesn't seem to mind. It's something you're used to, on the street.

He doesn't say anything else. Just looks at her, evenly and calmly. Perhaps too calm.

[knowsherway]

For a moment, Eponine just stares. She looks the young boy over, takes in everything from his appearance to his clothes, and this lasts for quite awhile before her voice returns to her.

"Gavroche."

In a similar vein, there is no emotion in Eponine's voice. She had not expected to see him, but there he was, and how strange it was to see him. And he had mentioned the barricades. Had he died upon them too? That was just one of the many questions bubbling up in Eponine's mind, but all she could do was look at him silently.

[chiot]

They stay like that, silent, locked as still as statues. He is numb, and he dares not to breathe. If he breathes, Gavroche thinks, this whole thing is over and his sister will vanish in the blink of an eye. She'll leave, just like he's heard whispers of foreigners doing so. She'll just crumble into dust, or melt away like ice, or just go without a sound, without warning.

Don't move, Gavroche wills. She's going to go away.

It is, perhaps, far more difficult being a twelve years old than the messy blonde lets on. It is also, perhaps, as equally difficult (if not more) seeing someone you thought was well and alive and noticing that yes, while they're here with you now, they're well and dead.

Gavroche lets out a flurry of wails then, and his resolve not to move has faded quickly. He's angry, he's confused, but he's sad. Eponine has passed away. His sister--who, perhaps not as close as proper siblings should be, is still his sister--has left the streets of Paris under the circumstance of death.

The gamin charges and at first it's with a fist--and he hits her, roughly, and hits her again and again and again but despite the roughness his hands bounce off the other like he's punching a pillow. It's the second or third or maybe even sixth hit and he lets his legs buckle from underneath him, his howling more pained than angry. He's collapsed onto her, arms wrapped around in a hug.

His sister is here, but at what cost?

[newblood]

As silly as it might sound, the collision is a relief. It pulls her out of her stupid, ridiculously melodramatic thoughts. Honestly, she needs to find something more productive to do (and something better to eat). All this sitting around, moping, and network stalking is getting old fast.

When Éponine stumbles into her, Caroline doesn't move an inch, remaining remarkably still. Her voice is similarly lofty, almost detached.

"Don't worry about it." She refocuses, and runs a hand through her hair. "Are you okay? You look more out of it than I feel."

[knowsherway]

And who better to help break the monotony than a rough around the edges girl who spends most of her time on the streets?

Eponine blinks for a few moments, marveling at Caroline's hair. It's quite pretty and well-cared for, unlike her own uncombed locks. But soon enough, she comes back to reality and the realization that she's being asked a question.

"I am all right, I think, but curious. A place that is between living, dying, and dreaming is very curious, don't you think?"

[newblood]

"Oh, yeah, sure," said quickly. It's not so interesting, when some of your closest friends are undead and the little boy who used to crash your friend's sleepovers can chat up ghosts whenever the mood strikes him. as it stands, Éponine is more interesting than the idea of an in-between.

"Look, not trying to be rude or anything, but you really don't look so hot." Caroline's eyes go straight to her hair, then her androgynous clothes, and finally fixate on the spot where Éponine was shot. She can almost smell the freshly healed wound, and frowns slightly at the thought of it.

[knowsherway]

Unfazed by Caroline's quick response, Eponine casts an equally glance over herself. Nothing seems out of the ordinary to her, but to someone who has not come from the tail end of a revolution and a battle, it might seem to be of at least a little interest.

The exact meaning of Caroline's words misses her somewhat, but she takes it to mean that she is hardly looking her best. "I suppose that is one thing that is not curious at all. There was a battle, you see."

sorry for the delay!

[newblood]

"Here, in the town?" Another one? she wants to say. It almost seems like everyone is getting into fights with the locals. Briefly, she considers Katherine's story. When the locals finally saw her as a threat, they ran her out of town, pitchforks in hand. How long until that happens here?

"Have you been checked over by, like, a professional?"