tushanshu | [Filtered: Les Amis (including Temeraire, and yes, you too, Courfeyrac's Puppy),

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[Filtered: Les Amis (including Temeraire, and yes, you too, Courfeyrac's Puppy),

[Enjolras stares out at the camera, his expression set and his eyes hard. It would be clear, likely, to those who know him, that he is not handling the Empresses's (yeah, he'd disrespect you equally if you were a emperor; he just can't get behind the gendered terms in his mind)announcement well. In truth, he wants to go out and break something or set it on fire, or some other urge he has ever repressed, and will continue to do so. To think of THAT coming home, to the people. No.

Full understanding's dawned now, and that understanding is horrifying, dizzying, and there is but one way that Enjolras can think to even begin dealing with it. When he speaks, his voice is grave, the tones used on the barricade, though modulated for this moment at least.]

And so we learn the way of it at last.

Might we all speak together soon? I...am in need of all of you and what actions that we may plan to take.

[And, in a rare display of actual anger, saved up perhaps, from Gavroche, along with other things, brought to light by the threat to Patria, he's slamming a fist down, HARD, upon his desk, enough that he sees a crack left behind, though that does not really help. The last time anyone has seen him give in to something like this would be July of 1830, but he's done it as it is.]

We fight for France, and the people again. There is no question of it. But in the matter of how, I am outclassed. Might the rest of you have some thoughts? Please begin considering them until the group of us may meet.

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That should help then, yes.

In lieu of an army, then we fight what we must find here, in whatever ways we can.

[His smile has shifted a little to be slightly easier at Temeraire's suggestion.]

A GOOD idea, yes. I would not be a liability when the real time comes.

I expect it will be as much a learning experience for myself as for you; light-weights are not ordinarily used in combat. [A shadow passes over his features for a moment.] And it will be hard up, without Gavroche: he was the best of my runners.

[The mention of Gavroche has Enjolras glancing away, and down a moment, though when he looks up again, there is no sign that anything has changed in his expression.]

Yes, certainly he will be missed. I know we must make do, but even so.

If--I might ask a question, Enjolras?

Of course. What is on your mind then?

The Emperor said something about returning us all to our worlds, should we succeed, or perhaps permitting us to stay here, but she did not know if the same would apply, for those who are dead.

[A little blunt, perhaps, but Temeraire apparently does not notice.] I was only wondering what you planned to do, after.

[It IS a consideration that had not occurred to Enjolras, admittedly, before, and he is...not certain he has a choice in that.]

I do not know that the laws of whatever brought us here would grant me any choices.

[He manages, haltingly, at last.]

It is selfish, probably, that I have grown so accustomed to life again that I hate the idea so much, of returning, and being dead. My soul was promised once though, promised, and then damned by acts of revolution. I cannot see that my fate has really been changed, so much as postponed.

After...I suppose that I have little choice but to accept what I have been sworn to. Patria is owed at least that much as I can give it, and I must, of course, keep my vows. They are required and far stronger than feelings I've awakened to here, and are only what I might do.

Though, if I am granted the ability to miss anything in my death, it will be what I've found here, certainly.

[At his response Temeraire falls silent for a long while, an unreadable expression on his features. For all of his captain's hesitation regarding his so-called Jacobin friends, Enjolras's words remind him of no-one so much as Laurence: the same ironclad devotion to duty and tendency toward martyrdom he does not think he will ever comprehend.]

I do not see why your soul ought to be damned through revolution, at all: it seems to me that if there is a God, he ought to see the rightness of your cause, and understand that it was something worth fighting for.

[That martyrdom is certainly wrapped up in Enjolras, and perhaps an inability to see beyond it as well, at least when faced with circumstances like these are. He had been getting better but now, well...]

Perhaps it is simply an assumption then. But I have not killed only in battle, Temeraire, or only those who have been armed. The circumstances demanded it, through the greater lens of justice, but even so. I do not know that there is truly any right in taking lives the way I have with some. It seems there is a difference, but one might hope, that should a God exist, the cause is understood and can hold fast. I think that is all I might hope for in this now.

And if not...then I suppose that does not matter so much.

There is a story there, I think: I should rather like to hear it, before you judge yourself too harshly.

There is at that. I suppose there is ALWAYS a story if one wishes to look closely enough.

[Enjolras casts his eyes down for a moment, as it comes back to him, can feel the gun in his hand.]

As far as judgement though? I cannot think that anyone should escape such as that. Mali...IT showed me such this summer.

[He flattens his ruff against his neck at the name, though he quickly recovers, shaking his head as if to clear the air.]

It showed me a great many things, as well, and none of them were true: my captain is alive and safe, for one--safer than we are, at least. I cannot see the point of worrying about some judgment that may or may not exist, when it is the consequences of things we do now which do exist, and matter a great deal more.

[The problem is that for Enjolras, those things were true, if exaggerated, perhaps. It has been something to hold him to that spot, but listening to Temeraire...it does help a little.]

There is no point in overmuch dwelling, I can agree with that. Merely that my fate may be connected to those things I've done. But you are right, that is certainly not what matters in the moment.

[The weight of it is less now as he glances at Temeraire, meeting his gaze through the screen as best as he can now, then nods a bit, some small measure of peace slipping over him.]

How is it you know me enough to know what it will take to draw me out of moods like this? ...Thank you.

[He rather guiltily supposes it was his question which drew Enjolras into the mood in the first place, but no matter: instead he draws himself up a little, nodding encouragingly.]

My captain often says similar things, about duty, and accounting for one's actions; I had not thought you would fall to the same thoughts, since you are a revolutionary.

[Here, Enjolras has to laugh a little, at the idea first of all, that they are similar,and then the irony therein.]

I do still have my loyalties to country, of course. Simply the one that we wish to create. I suppose that is the way of difference there.

Perhaps that is so. [He falls silent again, ruminating. That his captain is not here is still a blow, but not as severe as he might have expected, with the knowledge that he is still safe, elsewhere.]

It is not that Laurence is blind to the injustices dragons face in the West, since he has admitted that I am right; it is only that he thinks it difficult to engender those changes, while we are still fighting Napoleon.

[And those changes, if Iskierka is to be believed, will come--but that is another matter. Enjolras, for his part, must have been a hatchling at best during the war--or else he was not even born--but Temeraire looks up nonetheless, questioning.] Would you have built your barricades all the same, if it were the year seven and not the year thirty-two?

I suppose it is...along those lines at least.

[Enjolras considers Temeraire for a moment, noting the silence, and, well...it can only be obvious, even to him, what this is about.]

You must miss him terribly. With any degree of luck, at the end of this, you will see him again.

[He had not known the man well himself, but had still been shocked at his absence all the same, the suddenness of it. The thought that at the end of this, they may all go home is god at least, in that particular case, he thinks, offering a sympathetic smile.]

I CAN see that point being made, I suppose. I would argue there is no time like the present to begin a fight, of course, but, as Combeferre would have it, they must happen in the right times. If conditions were as right as they were in eighteen thirty, and in eighteen thirty two, I most certainly would.

But nonetheless, I think that something might have been done at the time, and there are always means of fighting for a cause, even if we do not jump to the largest, most potentially explosive ones at once. These things take time, certainly, but...

[And have a small bit of an eyedart there.]

There are of course, smaller things that one might do, as they begin to gather support. I have been fighting myself since I was young...thirteen or so, I believe, but in ways other than in picking up the gun.

Do you know the British poet, Byron? He told us that the pen is mightier than the sword, and for most of the time that I was fighting, that was true, and made for a much better weapon in what it managed to gain the cause. Perhaps, when it comes to the injustices that you yourself are facing something of the like may be useful to you. They will print much of anything, so long as there is payment for it, after all.

I can only hope I do: and as much as I should prefer to have him at my side, perhaps it is better, if we might win this fight, without his being drawn into danger.

[It is said doubtfully, and his expression indicates it is all he is willing to say on the matter.]

Jehan has told me of Byron, but I have not had occasion to read him yet: it is very difficult to find any sort of poetry from home, here. But--

[Here he pauses in thought, and considers: they might take French prizes, and use the money to pay for pamphlets, which he might dictate to Laurence. And then he might ask some of the dragons to drop them all over Dover, and London: light-weights, of course, like Elsie or Volly, so people would not be afraid, and then they might read them and understand the plight of British dragons--]

--that is a very good idea, Enjolras; I shall have to think on it.

I do know what you mean. Much as I would miss Etienne, I think it would be better could he avoid the fighting somehow.

[He'll be worried about Combeferre throughout this, certainly.]

I would not have him anywhere but here, given the circumstances but had we been taken in life...well. That would be far different and I would rather he was safe instead, much as I would miss him.

[Exactly though, Temeraire. Think of it! Very many pamphlets can certainly stir up or educate a populace who have been kept from a truth for too long. Certainly the distribution aspect should work well!]

That is what we attempted to do at home, and many times, it did succeed. We had the other things as well, of course, rallies and speeches and meetings but...the pamphlets were always a good beginning, or space in the papers perhaps. Your struggle at home could very well be helped by something like that. I cannot imagine being a dragon in those straits, even if you are treated well would sit easy with many people.

It is difficult enough to approach cities, without a great many people get cross, or worse; and it costs a great deal to host galas at the covert, pleasant though they are. And even then, people are liable to treat you as if you are only a horse, or a very large parrot; it should be much easier to win support for our cause through a paper, I think. Does it cost very much, to have something printed so?

Generally, I should not think it would cost too much at that. It depends on a number of things like length and choices for the print style as well. At home, we usually all contributed something to the cost to buy more copies. You might be able to do something of the same.

[What Temeraire has just described sounds pretty terrible and Enjolras is frowning a little at that.]

I dare say you are much more than a horse or parrot, Temeraire, and that even they deserve respect of a sort, though not the civil liberties that beings who reason do, of course.

[Let's all just be glad Black Beauty won't be written for a number of years past Enjolras's time or he might be encouraging Temeraire to write a novel here.]

Oh, naturally we shall all chip in: but we shall have to ensure we receive our due share of prize-money to spend, first, and failing in that our captains shall have to do it for us.

[He reflects that it is very likely they shall need to get their captains to do most everything for them to begin with: but it is the principle of the thing, in the end.]

Well, I have never met a parrot, so I cannot speak for them, but of course horses deserve our respect, for being so very tasty.

Ah good thinking, certainly. I would assume it could be done, easily enough considering the prizes that you take.

[Well yes, they'd have to do the negotiating and such, that's true. Or at least find one captain willing to carry that out. But yes, principles.

Okay, and Enjolras hides a grin at the bit about horses being tasty.]

...I suppose that is as good a reason as any, certainly.

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