tushanshu | 006 ; [ video, open to action ]

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006 ; [ video, open to action ]

[So, it's April. Eponine has sobered up somewhat, gotten her wits about her, and realized she needed to actually go see Marius Pontmercy. And explain. And apologize for being a fool and asking him to kill her, for begging him to love her. It took what courage the girl had left for her to walk over to his suite, and when she knocked, the door swung inward revealing what she feared most. What he said he would not do.

An empty apartment.

You know how Eponine spent most of March on a bender?

She's... about to start it again.

When she finally appears in front of the camera this time, she has dark circles under her eyes, her skin sallow. She's nearly as skinny as she was when she first arrived, and there's a bottle of whiskey in her fist.

She speaks simply, without light in her eyes.]

Marius Pontmercy has gone home.

He has returned home where none of us shall be living, to perhaps June 7th, 1832. He will return to his beloved Cosette Fauchelevent. They shall be married.

[She takes a pull from the bottle.]

And he shall forget all about us.

About me.

[She closes the network connection.]

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And Eponine? You are so much older than she is? You were so much older at the time?

[There is an eyebrow more like one that Combeferre might give him now, something of his manner creeping over into Enjolras as he asks this question, a little frown crossing his face.]

One cannot blame a child for cruelty, Eponine. If that is all that he or she has known, and grown to know. It is not right that they must live in, and grow up with such, that it becomes a second nature, but it is nothing that is their...your fault.

We were the same age. When her father took her away, she was inches from death. I could see it on her face, even then. And had she died, I would have thought nothing of it. She was a dog to us. Worse, even.

[She laughs, a hollow sound.]

She should blame me. He will blame me.

Indeed. I am sure she was, and that you were hardly better off, even if you were better off than she was at the time. But what I mean is, Eponine...there are things that one learns as a child, before they can know better. What happened to Cosette was something that you learned so young, before you knew that there was another way.

It seems that all that you could do was survive, and that doing so...involved cruelty. I am sorry for all the children who grew up then. I do not pity you, of course, but I am saddened that whatever way you look at it, you, your siblings and Cosette had to come to know that world. It is how things must be, before they're changed, but it is still the only way you knew.

No.

This was when the had the Inn. We were better, then. Money for dresses and presents and hats. When Gavroche was just a baby, and I was no more than seven. Survival had nothing to do with it.

[She takes a glass from her coffee table and begins to pour herself some whiskey. Half-way through she grabs a second glass and begins to fill that, for Enjolras.]

Here. You shall drink with me.

Ah, but well, with parents as yours seem to have become when the money went away...it seems that you still learned, well, that you needed to please them, yes? Learning to please your parents is a way that someone survives is all.

And I will join you.

[Though the idea of the whiskey does not quite appeal, he can manage a shot, at least, for politeness.]

No.

I did not always please them. Often times, I disobeyed. It meant they still remembered I was there.

[She takes a drink.]

[Enjolras still has his doubts, but for now, he's letting that part of it go.]

I suppose that what I meant then is...you still knew no better, truly. A child could not.

[And he's raising his glass, and then coughing a bit. Well. That's...well.]

[Eponine does not cough when she drinks.]

You prefer wine.

Ah, I am more accustomed to it, I suppose is all.

[And there is a small smile that is not quite a smile.]

As am I. But I enjoy good whiskey.

[She holds her glass up to him, and continues to drink.]

And I suppose I've never really paid attention to the heavier sort of thing.

[He, in turn, holds up his glass to clink with hers.]

I have much to learn of that, it seems. It does look to be a comfort for so many, so long as it is not in excess.

[Hes obviously trying to make a subtle point, or maybe feel her out here.]

[She clinks her glass, and finishes it. Yum.]

It burns, and I like it that way. Strong. It's easiest to let the world disappear with.

[She pours herself another.]

I can teach you! You must visit me at the Brazen Turtle.

I admit that at home, before, it never seemed to be so much an option for myself. The loss of control too much brings. I have never been so much for that.

But here, we live in a sort of chaos, do we not? The idea of control is...so far gone already. Perhaps I shall do so sometime.

[There is a little sigh as he glances at Eponine.]

Does the burn take it away...the...pain I mean?

No.

But it numbs it for the time. and that is all that matters. The now. I have nothing else. Nothing else was promised.

Numbing may be useful sometimes. There are things now I would like to forget. I did not understand that before I was here.

[Eponine, obviously, knows this only too well.]

And no, it was not. Nothing that I have now is promised to remain for that matter either. I think that...Courfeyrac showed me that. Losing him.

I...am not certain what to do with that knowledge. You know it all well, I think. What a pair we make just now.

You are learning.

[She leans back.]

I have always known this.

I suppose I am.

I do not mean...Death was the sort of thing I knew, and could accept. Death was something I could work within, even wield to some extent, but here...

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I suppose I am.

I do not mean...Death was the sort of thing I knew, and could accept. Death was something I could work within, even wield to some extent, but here...

<small[It is ALL out of his control now. He is at the mercy of this island, like he was at the mercy of others and he's shaking his head, though he's staying dry eyed now.]</small>

I did not know of the rest of it, I would guess. What it felt like.

But now you do.

Death was always there. I could feel it. An inevitability. The question was when he came for me.

But now, I do.

Death was always in the wings, I think. The sense that I was on some some of a deadline, that I had much to finish before I was gone. I knew that I must die but...

It was different to what you say, still. In ways I could not understand just then.

Death nipped at my heels. It was in the last ember of a fire, in the winter winds, in the lengthening shadows.

Every day was a deadline, when you lived as I did.

[His nod is serious at this. While Enjolras did not live the life she speaks of, so has no personal understanding of it, there is enough he witnessed that he is not surprised.]

It would seem that it had to be, and wrongly so. I think much as we wished to help all people, I could have stood to be a bit more like Etienne there, to actually do more to help, instead of only trying to change the world.

Little things. Always the little things.

[She sighs.]

I should not keep you from Etienne.

Those do seem to add up.

And if you need me, I will stay. I do care for you.

You have someone that loves you. Go to him.

I shall be here. Alone, as I always am.

You are certain you will be all right?

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