on my hysterical reaction upon nearly finishing the brick.

[musain]

Do not weep for me, mademoiselle. Your tears will not change the outcome, and in your grief, you forget. To die for a better France - is there anything greater than that? Know that however you may wish for it to be different, I would always give my life to defend her beauty, her greatness. A hundred times - no, a thousand times over.

You say that it is useless, that our names were forgotten to history, that we did not last out the week. To that I say: look around you! Democracy, liberty. Freedom. It is only by the blood of the martyrs are these gains made. Do not take them for granted, and do not forget: strive always for perfection. Idleness and complacency are the enemies of man.

( he thinks of a ripple that creates a wave, a spark that sets fire to old wood. now that it's over, he thinks about the paving stones, the bottles of nitric acid laid about the cafe, and finds that he does not regret it. war is a monstrous thing, and enjolras always knew that he was bringing death to those around him.

a little bit of hope is a dangerous thing in the hands of an idealist. )

Comments

[philosophe]

I do not think she will listen, they rarely do.

[musain]

No, but there is always hope. She is a student, as we were, who sees the injustices of the world, and does nothing.

I would have us be an example.

( aka he's basically made a girl cry by being stupid and tragic, and has no idea how to handle this except through stern lectures. because enjolras. )

[philosophe]

You are a fine one, in that case; you need not lecture her. Simply inspire her to do better.

[Lectures are all well and good, bro, but he knows perfectly well you can be just as inspirational.]

[musain]

I have hope. The fight is not over. With help, it never will be.

( he shifts for a moment, because everything is made much more awkward because they are both dead. enjolras knows that combeferre, out of all of them, understood the risks. combeferre, his eternally loyal second-in-command was so integral and so trusted, and enjolras speaks with an unusual fondness. )

Thank you, Combeferre.

[philosophe]

I would be more concerned if you did not, if I may be honest.

[He smiles teasingly, though -- he knows he may always be honest with Enjolras, and so too can Enjolras be honest with him. It just works like that.]

It is no great matter, there is no need to thank me. I am pleased to see you.

[musain]

It is good to see you as well, my friend.

( he says friend, but he means brother. comrade. enjolras has never been more proud than in that moment. )

[philosophe]

You are....well, in this place? It can be most trying.

[order_and_light]

And overthinking is the enemy of order.

[musain]

And if the order itself is wrong? What then?

I would rather think, than blindly follow the letter of an unjust law.

[order_and_light]

Your thoughts are superior to the thoughts of other men? [In an aside, as though to himself.] Idiot children.

[cynisme]

a romantic might say its better to die for love, but you do love France more than any woman and I am hardly a romantic with un petit R.

[musain]

The love of France is purer than any other. I have no use for Helen, for Eurydice or Andromeda.

( enjolras has to use classical references because...he doesn't actually know that many women personally, whoops. the abc is kind of a sausagefest.

also: begone with you, grantaire. stop trolling him. )

[cynisme]

But what of Hephaestion's love for Alexander, that kept the empire ever growing? Or the love of Patrocyles at Achilles' side as he fought for king and country? The love of country may be pure but it is nothing without the love of man.

That is, on the rare occasion that man can really, truly love. That is, the give life and blood for it, to see the reaching of full potential. Most aren't capable of such high, complex emotions. We are the lucky few indeed, mon ami.

[Trolling? Who's trolling? His voice says troll, his tone says mockery and impishness, but his words speak truth that pours forth endlessly from deep in his chest.]

[musain]

( it's ridiculous, to think about how grantaire twists even these sentiments into his mocking tone. still, enjolras gives pause - grantaire, the cynic, died for a cause that he did not believe in. he talks about the love of man. he talks about hephaestion and alexander.

( and still, enjolras can't get a fucking clue. )

The love of Patria will remain when the men that surround us are only historic, Grantaire.

[inseine]

[This man would kill an entire nation if it paved the way to a 'Better France,' wouldn't he?]

Your woman possesses questionable sympathies.

[musain]

( the short answer: yes. he would weep to do it, perhaps. he would never want to harm the innocents. but he would kill the entire national guard if it meant a better system. stirring rhetoric can only go so far; if he wants change, and he wants it now, then sometimes -- war is not kind.

but the cause, the cause is still just. )

She knows only the Truth. Her sympathies, her greatness - it is in her heart to yearn for justice. Her way has been blocked, but not for much longer.

( but what would an inspector know of that? enjolras would have killed javert himself, once. instead, he placed that duty in the hands of another. )

GOOD GOD JULI. I L O V E YOU. /PUTS ON EMPTY CHAIRS

[emptier]

[ enjolras -

marius takes a moment, looking perhaps - as if he's seen a ghost. the last of the barricade stands on unstable foundations after all. don't ask me what your sacrifice was for - had they truly done the right thing? ]

-Do you really think that, my friend?

WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF.

[musain]

( my friend. once, enjolras might have rejected the idea. marius had questionable political views, after all. they disagreed heartily. but the man had fought beside them, and he supposes - credit is more than due. )

Yes. I have always believed this. She informs me that you alone were saved.

Don't waste this, Marius. The flame of the revolution lives on in you. Do not let it go out.

( aka, DON'T SING A SONG AND FORGET ABOUT THEM IN FIVE MINUTES AND MARRY SOME RANDOM GIRL AND NEVER FIGHT FOR SOCIETAL CHANGE AGAIN

DON'T DO THAT

oops. )

[alwaysinlove]

Hello, Enjolras.

[The voice is soft and gentle]

I do understand. My mundane is quite attached too, to myself, and you too.

Please accept my condolences.

How fare you in this strange place?

late to this party. but what else is new~

[delabc]

[ The never-ending France monologue. They've heard it, he's heard it, it's nothing new. They like it, he's ambivalent. He'll listen, though-- hasn't he always, even semi-sober and-- well, his tolerance isn't something to sneeze at.

He's not listening to the speech. Not the words so much as the lilt. The glint. Oh, he's got it bad. ]

--Haven't seen much of you around lately. Been rallying, Apollo?

never late! never ever

[musain]

( a never-ending france monologue that isn't going to change even though the last thing enjolras remembers was being pierced with bullets. he has nothing else. it's strange, though: grantaire has nothing cynical to say this time. nothing about the futility of republic, no drunken long-winded speech that could not be dissuaded or interrupted.

he might be sober. that's a distinct, if far-fetched, possibility. )

If I am Apollo, then you are surely Dionysus.

( grantaire insists on calling him by that name, knowing that enjolras repudiates it; he isn't a good, and has never claimed to be one, after all. )

;>

[delabc]

[ He's regrettably, reprehensibly sober, in fact. Cynical he may be, but between the startling (far too startling, thank you) light of day, and a formerly bullet-logged Enjolras, he's a little less the 19th century Bukowski than usual. Maybe even a bit reflective. But he'll arch an eyebrow-- (appraising, always) and stroll over anyway. ]

Not too far off the mark, I'd say. [ But he'll never quite equate them. His gods come in red-coated, golden haired, grey-eyed trappings. ] On a good evening or several.

[ He's more eloquent when coupled with liquid courage and a smokey café, at least. ]

whoops, sorry about the mixup!

[musain]

We have a marked difference of opinion as to what constitutes a good evening.

( enjolras is ever harsh towards grantaire's habits, ever disapproving, and that will never change. when he looks at the man and sees so much wasted potential, a vague spark wasted away with drink and idleness. an intelligence that might have been harnessed towards something good.

it's almost a shame. )

I'm actually turning this acc into 2012!R :) (also sorry for slow reply!)

[delabc]

[ Wasted potential, maybe (though Grantaire would disagree). But he's got a no less loyal disciple for it, maybe wayward, and most often garrulously drunk, but loyal. Doggedly, stupidly so. Who's currently, despite the odd situation, still managing to hang on every syllable of their poster-boy leader.

Snarkily: ] Such a pity, that. I'd think you'd relax every so often, what with the rallying and calling to arms. But no, oh, our disciplined icon. [ He smirks, eyebrow arched, trying for disinterest.

He'll allow himself the odd dig. They're so irreconcilably different. His own wasted potential is not the only shame. ]