reluctant voice testing.

[thetigerscome]

You do realize, Mademoiselle, that there is not much I can do for you? You are already quite busy both with your life and with your other voices, and most of the others here from my world exist long after I am dead? Could you not grant me this peace and allow me rest?

Comments

[notmuchthere]

There's not much you can do for anyone it seems. Pity, that.

[thetigerscome]

Monsieur Thénadier! I-- Did you get the last ten francs I sent?

[notmuchthere]

Ten francs? We haven't seen more more than a sous from you in too long, Ten francs.

[yes, yes they did get the last ten francs thanks for that.]

[thetigerscome]

I sent it right before I-- A gentleman should have come.

[notmuchthere]

[scoff] and no gentleman came! Ah, what a pity, we haven't enough now to feed Eponine and your girl.

[thetigerscome]

You're lying. You must be lying. My mun tells me he did come, and he took poor Cosette away from you horrible people.

[notmuchthere]

Horrible people? With all that we've done for you and your girl, you call us horrible?

Clearly it's you that can't be trusted, girl.

yes good the les mis muses are arriving

[roseoftheunderworld]

It seems these mundanes exist simply to bring us out of any sort of peace.

[Not that Eponine's life has ever been peaceful. The afterlife probably wouldn't have been much different]

I am sorry, mademoiselle.

[euphrasie]

P-please. Stay a while, would you? If you could?

[fitofgrandair]

We are fools to believe that we may ever die, and peace is an illusion used to warm ourselves against the fact of what and where we are. Who are we to dictate the expanse of time or strife? Who are we to define existence itself?

Drink, Madame, and drift as best you can.