un: someday, life will be fairer (open)

[untamedantinous]

The library is currently occupied. To be more precise, it is occupied by one young blond man, settled in at a large table with books spread out around him. Off to the side, there is a glass of wine, half-drunk. He looks much better than he had upon his arrival, no longer dirty and bloodstained, but still a bit fragile. Some of the marble that usually adorns his countenance has been chipped away, and he is not certain if it will come back.

He is not certain of many things, here in this strange new not-afterlife, but he is certain that both the writings of Rousseau and Voltaire exist. He has the proof, right here next to him, old friends that he is relieved to have in hand. (Someday he'll find his own copies of them, maybe.) The young fellow that had healed him -- Magnus, wasn't it -- had mentioned France becoming a republic. So in lieu of talking to people, Enjolras has chosen to dive into history books and catch himself up on the last 200 or so years.

(He'd rather read than face what lies before him here. He's not sure what to do, and he doesn't like being purposeless. There is yet time to talk, time to find Grantaire, eventually, but he doesn't want to think. Not right now.)

Comments

[futaille]

The sound startles Grantaire a bit too much as well, although he was not in the thick of everything some days ago in nearly the same way as Enjolras. His gaze drifts to him directly. "... Apollo?"

[untamedantinous]

“Get down, Grantaire, would you—“ He certainly sounds like he’s back at the barricade, as that was certainly an order. But he shakes his head, and settles after a moment or two, frowning and back to himself.

“I—yes, what is it?”

[futaille]

Enjolras is probably used to Grantaire watching him, although this expression is slightly off of what it usually is. "Are you all right?"

[untamedantinous]

“I…yes, I’m fine, I was only..” He hesitates and shakes his head. “I was only startled, it’s quite alright.” He kneels and goes to pick up the books, frowning at the broken wine glass.

[futaille]

"Well, who am I to say otherwise, I suppose." He turns back to his own book.

[untamedantinous]

“You needn’t worry about it.” He’s searching for a rag or something, now, to get the bits of glass, and there, all clean. Now he has nothing to distract himself with, unfortunately, and he can still feel the thrumming anxiety through his body that is all too familiar from a few days ago. He shakes his head again and starts to sit; but quickly realizes he wants to keep moving, just now, and so begins pacing the room.

[futaille]

"Worry's not routinely in my repertoire." Still, though, he looks back up and tracks Enjolras's pacing.

[untamedantinous]

“Many things that are not routinely in your repertoire seem to be, here,” somewhat impatiently. He’s going to look for a book now, he’s not sure what exactly; but he needs to keep himself moving.

[futaille]

As much as Grantaire's first instinct is to ask what on earth Enjolras could possibly be talking about, he has a gut feeling that that's a landmine he doesn't want to touch. So he says nothing (also not routinely in his repertoire) and returns to his book and wine.

[untamedantinous]

He’s not even entirely certain what he’s on about; he just knows that he is on edge now, and he doesn’t quite like it. He sighs, fretful, and glances towards Grantaire. “Is there any more of that, or did we need a new bottle?” He doesn’t want to get drunk, precisely, but he does want to leave the room. That’s as good an excuse as any.

[futaille]

He shakes the bottle. "There is some left, but not much. More might be worth retrieving."

On the other hand, should Enjolras go to get one, Grantaire will be very much gone upon his return.

[untamedantinous]

“Very well. I’ll try and find some.” And with that, he’s off. If Grantaire is gone by the time he returns, he doesn’t mind, honestly. That turn with the books has shaken him more than he’d like.