006 ; [ video, open to action ]

[jondrette]

[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.]

Comments

[solo_patria]

Nor do I but...I do know that all that was important, all that mattered, did come back, in time. Perhaps...perhaps it may be that way if they should return as well. The spirit of the thing remains, even if the details need to be remembered.

[And he is tentatively reaching to touch Eponine's hand, already humming a little as he does so, the song that first comes to mind being a bit too appropriate for the situation, perhaps but, well, he's singing anyway, it being one of the few from his childhood that he recalls.]

Sota ma fenèstra,
I a un aucelon,
Tota la nuèch canta,
Canta sa cançon.

[jondrette]

[Eponine can't really bring herself to respond, instead, looking at him as he touches her hand. She curls hers around his slightly, before closing her eyes. He does sing well, she decides. It's wonderful to know the man made of marble had such talents.]

[solo_patria]

[Well, he's not trained in it or anything, though Enjolras is capable enough, perhaps. Not enough to be truly talented, but, should he ever have to watch someone's child, or, like now, to soothe a friend, his voice suits well enough for that.]

Se canta e recanta,
Canta pas per ieu:
Canta per ma mia
Qu'es au luènh de ieu.

["It sings for my love, who is far away from me", the verse goes, and Enjolras almost winces at that, and its application to Eponine now.]

Aquelei montanhas
Que tant autas son,
M'empachan de veire
Meis amors ont son.

[jondrette]

[Keeping her eyes closed, letting herself start to drift off, Eponine pulls Enjolras' hand in, closer to her chest. In times like this, it's easy to remember how young she is, how small and frail. She sighs.]

[solo_patria]

[At the little pull of his hand, Enjolras lets it slip a little towards her shoulders, his hand finding her hair a moment later, and stroking it in what he hopes is a soothing motion.]

Autas, ben son autas,
Mai s'abaissaràn,
E meis amoretas
Vèrs ieu revendràn.

["And my dear love will come back to me", the lyrics go, and the hope there is evident in his voice as he continues smoothing Eponine's hair, a bit. Whether that means Courfeyrac, or another love for her, it is hard to say, but the idea that they might see Courfeyrac again is one that he can hope for too, from his own perspective. Perhaps it may be possible, and the idea it may has a comfort to it, anyway.

This is where his knowledge of the song begins to trail off. There are more verses, something with an almond tree, but it has been so long since he's heard his father singing it, or really thought about Cassis as more than something of a pleasant memory that he trails off there, giving Eponine a little smile as he does so.]

[jondrette]

[As the song trails off, Eponine opens her eyes slightly to look up at Enjolras and to smile at him. Handsome, kind- an idiot, yes, but still a good person underneath- and a decent singer. An angel. Apollo.

She manages a few words, her voice heavy with sleep:] You sing very prettily.

[solo_patria]

I forget the rest. It has been...a long time.

[And he is smiling at her, shrugging a bit at the compliment.]

Well, thank you. I...you do know that I wish for you to find happiness, yes? Even with all that I say that may suggest differently?

[jondrette]

No... I did not. No one has wanted that for me. Not that they have told me.

I do not believe happiness is for me.

[solo_patria]

Have they not? Then I am sorry.

[She would not have been told that in life, of course, but that did not mean that she should not have. It does not mean that she should not have it or be told of that now.]

Do you know,in the days of the great republic, Saint-Just said that happiness was a new idea for many. I think it still was, at home, and still is, for many people here. Perhaps it is something that many will always chase. But it is something that everyone should have, that everyone deserves, by right of being man or woman, nothing more.

The fact I care for you only adds to that wish for you.

[jondrette]

You are so kind.

[He gets another watery smile.]

Whatever happiness I find here is only fleeting.

[solo_patria]

As of yet.

But that is quite a big yet.

[jondrette]

As of always.

[She yawns.]

Hush, and keep playing with my hair.

[solo_patria]

Fair enough.

[And Eponine is being given a soft smile as he does just that, his fingers idly finding a few sections which he's starting to loosely braid. Not that he is very good at braiding, but...thought that counts?]

[jondrette]

[It is the thought that counts. With Enjolras' soft smile, his fingers in her hair, Eponine slowly allows herself to drift off to a much-needed sleep.]