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

[onthewillowsthere]

This feels like a misstep: the lingering pause before the word fanciful, the amusement in the man's voice. He's not good at understanding these subtleties, but he thinks there's something he's meant to understand here about his choices. He takes his books, keeping his eyes down, and shakes his head at the apology before fleeing.

[untamedantinous]

Oh, dear, he hadn't meant to come off as rude. He should remember to be mindful of his tone, here, he has gotten to used to people who know him far too well and actually know when he's being playful.

"Wait, I --" He calls, sheepish, knowing the other young man is already halfway gone. "I didn't mean to tease..."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad hesitates in the door, glancing back at him, like a half-wild cat that hasn't decided whether to stay or go.

[untamedantinous]

"I am sorry," he tries again. "I ...forget myself, sometimes, and I have hardly met anyone here. What I meant to say was, I do think your books are fascinating, though they are not my especial preference." A pause, as he searches for something else to say that hopefully isn't too offensive.

"You like animals, then?" With a gesture at the bestiary. "What sort is in there?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't know yet. They had one like it at the nunnery."

[untamedantinous]

“Ah.” He nods a little. “I can’t say I’ve ever…been in a nunnery.” He’s not even certain they call them nunneries anymore, but that is beside the point. “Do they have many books there, aside from…hymnals and such things?”

[onthewillowsthere]

He nods. "More than anywhere else. History books, and medicine and Roman philosophers."

[untamedantinous]

“Ah, I see,” he nods, and with a slight pang, can’t help thinking of Combeferre. He would have loved books on Roman philosophers and medicines. “If you’ve a fancy for medicines, I’m sure they may have some books along those lines here, as well.”

[onthewillowsthere]

He nods (he doesn't) and for a moment says nothing, before his gaze flickers over to Enjolras' table of books. "What are you reading?"

[untamedantinous]

"Oh, various things." He indicates the books closest to him. "These, here, are the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a philosopher from Geneva. And the others, just there, are those of Voltaire, who was from France. The other books are French history from, er, after I arrived here, if that makes any sense."

[onthewillowsthere]

"It doesn't."

[untamedantinous]

"Well, you see, I am from the year 1832, and I have been told that --well, things change drastically, at least in some respects, where others are from. So I decided to do some investigating."

[onthewillowsthere]

This is the first Galahad has actually run up against the 'different times' thing, and he looks -- well, he looks sort of stone-faced, but internally he is deeply bewildered. "What year is it now?"

[untamedantinous]

"Do you know, I hadn't thought to ask. M. Magnus had said it was, euh, 2015 for him, I believe? My arrival here is a bit of a blur." Enjolras, too, is deeply bewildered; but they are equally good at hiding it, it would seem.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Two-thousand and fifteen?" he echoes.

[untamedantinous]

"Yes. It seems desperately large, doesn't it? I cannot even begin to think of what's occurred."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad looks at him for a moment longer, and then very quietly turns and walks away with his books.