tushanshu | Video I

['The Emperor' was very odd title for a woman, indeed it was.

When Joly had awoken, a few thoughts had stabbed into his mind all at once. That was merely one of them. The first, vaguely and upon seeing a white mist, was that steam was a sterilizing agent. This memory floated past his dazed mind like the tune of a song stuck in one's head; a little incoherent, but familiar. The second was that he happened to be in a tub, which was a sensible enough place to be, if one hadn't just been upon a barricade.

Were he not so weak of limb (myasthenia? dystrophy?) and fatigued, he might have thought upon that harder. Were it not such a difficult thing to think upon in general; smoke, yelling, and that very distinct smell of-- ...well; he might have made a better effort to fish among the depth of those memories, nervous and worried and ailing as they were.

As it was, by the time the whole of the process were said and done, and he was standing, bemused, among a city he did not know, with a device so odd upon his palm that he quite nearly found it charming, he was ready to recount to any who might be hearing it:]

It's very curious, to lead a Republican life, then to close one's eyes for a nap, and awake in the bathtub of an Empress.

[Keeliai, have a young man in a bloodied shirt with a wince on the lines his face but a smile on his mouth. Despite the alarm he could feel roiling in the pit of his stomach, the anxiety clear in his stare, and his confusion as to the glare of the lights and the thrum of his healing body, he took in the new location with a tamed confusion, and idly went to rub some dust from his coat sleeve in an inborn gesture.]

I have a friend or two who'd be much amused by such a thing! Little ironies, et cetra. The oppression of bathtubs, in which the monarchs feed the people lyes. ...And more who'd be severely dispassionate about the whole matter.

[His voice pitched bit higher than usual, keyed up by concern over the fate of his friends, and his own. Despite it, he managed a good-natured look at the... thing in his hand... at his little joke, before relenting to those who might assist him.]

I might ask if anyone has seen such good friends? A fair place to begin. Decidedly.

My name is Joly; lately of Paris, more recently of Mam'selle Napoleon's receptacle.

[And he'd make a little bow, if he knew what at. Instead, he settles for a nervous smile and another idle rub at a part of his body that, worriedly, is still aching a bit. It's difficult to hold down the panic, but he's hinging; possibly literally!; on some news of a friendly face or two. Or all.]

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I had seen him before, at the barricades. But I suppose, yes. He asked me to come to him, so that he may see that I had healed well. He has a very gentle touch.

[She has no idea that she's only furthering Joly's belief that she and Combeferre are an item.]

[He had asked outright! How uncharacteristically bold.

Joly is, finally, happily distracted.]

A gentle touch! Why doesn't he just? That's a very fine review of the matter, Mademoiselle!

And for how long has it been, since he asked?

Some time. Two months, give or take, it is not easy to keep track of time here.

I should return his clothing.

Time does fly at times such as these!

[Ah! He has to titter a little bit; she is bold also! Putting the facts so forward.]

I can't imagine that he minds. He must think that you improve them.

[She's laughing at that. Yes, she is bold. Far too bold.]

I swam in them, for they dwarfed me. He is a large man and I have been told I am pocket sized, even if I had been fed properly.

[It was enough to make a lesser man blush! Joly, however, just grins all the wider.]

Large and gentle. Who might have thought it? Yes, you speak of him very well. He has done very goodly, by your 'acquaintanceship'.

[She doesn't get the joke.]

He would do better than me. I am not the sort of woman one speaks of in the same breath as anything 'good' unless it is to say what I am good for. Which is, as I have heard, nothing.

Certainly a bit more than that, do come on now. Modesty is a lovely trait! But you have a rosy sharp tongue, so better to wear confidence, eh?

Edited 2013-11-06 05:00 (UTC)

Ha! No more, no less. Save your judgements for when you know me better, m'sieur Joly, and not before.

My tongue is all I have, when everything else is ripped from me.

A wise man sits back to judge. I am fast, lady! Not wise, always. I believe in science, and science tells one to take what they see and predict; to change the prediction as the medium changes. So! I must think you modest and sharp, and will reserve the right to change the hypothesis.

You speak prettily, I am willing to let it go. And you call me lady! Such a fine title that is for a girl of my stature! But I shall take it! You find me modest, sharp, and a lady. I am almost wary of changing your opinion. To let you believe what you will of me, for you certainly are a kind man.

But when the truth is revealed and you see me as I am, you must not act shocked. For I have warned you. I am the daughter of a wolf, and I have claws, too.

Anyone of your station is willed to be called such! [Decided, on Combeferre's behalf, and for his friendship. Why, he should call his own Musichetta a lady, be she the seamstress that she was, or an upperclass woman at her needlework.] Ah, if I win the term of kind by it, look: we both are in benefit.

Remus, Romulus, and... Regina? [Joked, with a twinkling.] Forgotten child of the wolves, noted! I have been warned.

So we are.

[Regina? She has to laugh- Joly's jovial nature is contagious. If only for now.] Regina! Ha- yes! By rights then, you should not call me lady but you should call me queen. Queen Éponine, of Montfermeil and later Paris.

But I am a Republican, Lady Queen of the Late-Night Paris! [Playing on her words with a mischievous smile, he shook his head.] I could not, would not, upon my honour.

[Joly, you've made a terrible mistake. She likes you and thinks you're fun and adorable. Congratulations.

Eponine laughs heartily.] But you have called me such despite your reservations! It is my new title, and it is fitting. I am far more at home in the dark than I am in the light.

[Best mistake, really. He makes it often, if he can help it.]

All the best women are, really!

Oh? Do you think so, m'sieur? [And now she's just giving him that wolfish grin.]

I must know so.

[Two can play at that!]

You are an interesting sort. I believe I shall keep you as a friend. You, who like your women living by the moon instead of the sun! How different you are.

I confess, I like all women! They are all cut from the same fine cloth; delicate and fearsome, the all of them. I like being kept, at that, so I find the arrangement suitable in nature, indeed.

[A little, careful bow to you, miss.]

[You are flattering her. It's terrible. Stop it.

No, don't. Keep going.]

You understand us! You are a rare creature, m'sieur. It is refreshing.

[Can't stop, won't stop.

Women are super cool, even the scary ones.]

I understand women very well, yes, thank you for your consideration! You shall have to tell the others so; they are a pitiful lot. You shall have to tell other women of it, at that.

[He could never understand Musichetta half so well, or, rarely. It was why he liked her so!]

[Joly, you are Eponine's new bff.]

I shall tell everyone, but you must, as well. They shall take your word for it far more than mine.

[Omg YAY GIRL!R. He has such good taste in friends amirite.]

They take my word for nothing, and are very silly men on the whole for it. Good men, but silly!

[THE BEST TASTE because let's be real, Eponine is basically just a poor, uneducated, girl!R. And it's fabulous.]

And they shall suffer for it! You are a wise man amongst fools!

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