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

[untamedantinous]

He nods and settles back in his chair, idly opening his book again. "How do you find Rousseau, so far?"

[wickedwit]

"I enjoy his ideas. I feel as though I have spent far too much time in my life questioning what justifies a sovereign's decisions or a sovereign's reign, without too deeply considering the question of what justifies sovereignty itself. Imagining a state of nature is rather like imagining what it was like when we all first arrived here. I assumed a place like this needed a lord because how else would it keep itself? But it just so happens that every need is provided for by magic, and the mansion keeps itself. And though I came up with problems I believed leadership could solve, a wiser friend came up with many ways the same problems could be solved by the community. I'm not certain Rousseau and I are always starting from the same principles, but I can follow his logic quite clearly." It's surprisingly easy to discuss political philosophy now with a stranger. Claudius is sure that, back in Elsinore, he would carefully conceal all his political opinions and outright lie about them if necessary. And yet he's been here long enough that it shouldn't be a wonder -- Laertes started speaking treasonous things surprisingly quickly.

Wryly, Claudius adds, "I also like what Rousseau writes on the so-called right of the strongest. And this line -- all power comes from God, I admit; but so does all sickness: does that mean that we are forbidden to call in the doctor?"

[untamedantinous]

"I do not know if twenty or some people can be counted a utopia," he muses, trying hard to hide a mildly amused look. "But it is certainly an interesting way to test out one's theories. The way I see it, there is little to justify sovereignity -- specifically in my home, at least, when people starve in the streets and cannot afford even a loaf of bread to feed themselves, ill and dying all the while. But that is, I will admit, quite specific to June of 1832, though we had attempted another revolt a few years before that." Enjolras, on the contrary, is quite willing to discuss political philosophy with a stranger. It's one of his stronger points, and he was generally more circumspect about it at home, but there is no need to fear imprisonment or death here.

[wickedwit]

"Yes, you'd think the point of sovereignty would be to stop all that," Claudius says drolly. "I can always justify sovereignty in my head, you see, when I think it can be used to feed the hungry, heal the sick, protect the innocent. But if innocents continue to suffer under a sovereign's reign, then what's the use of it?" There's a flicker of a memory -- some heartsick horror he felt when was on laudanum. With Sagramore, wasn't it? Sagramore said something about King Arthur ... Claudius sighs. "Or when the sovereign himself creates more suffering."

[untamedantinous]

“Indeed,” with a small smile. “A good sovereign might, in fact, do that. France has had few of them in recent years. Something else is needed in such a case, and thus my friends and I fought for a republic.” He considers Claudius a moment, sipping at his wine absently.

“Some would tell you a republic is just as bad as monarchy. I prefer to think that man is capable of learning from past mistakes and changing.”

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs at that. "Oh, now there's a puzzle I'd like philosophy to solve for me. Religion hasn't done it yet. Repentance and absolution are my personal banes."

[untamedantinous]

“I pay very little attention to religion as it is. I don’t think I’ve been to church since…I was back in the south, at home.” He shrugs a little. “As I said, I am less a philosopher and more a man of action.”

[wickedwit]

"Only recently have I begun to reflect on how passive philosophers and men of action are both necessary to balance one another¹. Perhaps I'm becoming philosophical¹ myself." He shakes his head. "I'm sure the same is true of establishing republics. Was that ever something you were interested in, steering the republic once it came to pass? Or were you happy to bring it about, and leave the politics to others?" He's delicately avoiding the lack of choice Enjolras has in the matter, now that he's here. Claudius also had very little choice but to reconsider his opinions on rulership, though at least he isn't dead.

(Wait, why would Claudius be under the impression that Enjolras died in this revolt? Only Grantaire showed up covered in blood, yes? No -- it's gone now. Claudius lost whatever memory was coming back.)

¹ Cf. Taoism 101 with Lan Wangji, the Yin-Yang Principle.
² Actually he's always on the verge of philosophy and he's always self-deprecating about it. It's a specific family trait he shares with his nephew.

[untamedantinous]

“Ours was my friend Combeferre. He is…..was a wonderful man, studying medicine among whatever else he could think of. He would love this place.” He hesitates at the next question, however. “I —do not know. I would likely have been steered that way, as I was studying law at home; but quite honestly I was happy just to help. I …did not expect to…well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

He hasn’t quite referenced his own death up until now, its one of the myriad of things he’s been shoving to the back of his mind. Anytime he gets close to touching on it aside from vague references he can feel his heart start beating faster.<sup>1

1</sup>He also hasn’t caught onto the fact that Claudius has assumed he’s dead; perhaps it’s just because he’s been sharing it to everyone here, right? Certainly common knowledge by now.

[wickedwit]

Claudius nods. "Yes, I'm sure I can." He sighs and he has to admit, "It's difficult to work for a singular purpose, then have it taken away from you by unforeseen circumstances. Even if you would have been steered there, rather than choosing it yourself."<sup>1

1</sup> Yes, he's thinking about Galahad. Did he actually stop?

[untamedantinous]

"Yes," he replies fervently, finishing his latest glass of wine. "It is confounding, and I do not know in the slightest what to do with myself."<sup>1

1</sup> This probably isn't going to change the comparisons to Galahad, is it.

[wickedwit]

Claudius drinks more of his own glass of wine -- it's more to his taste than he expected. Subtly dry, not too sweet, though there's a floral aroma on top of it. He could commend Enjolras in his taste for picking a bottle at random. "Even more difficult, I suppose, for an active man. There's a lot of thinking you'll have to do before making any solid action." Dryly, Claudius says, "Though I've also tried acting without thinking, with varying results¹."

¹ Grantaire at the bar. Someone not like Galahad or Enjolras.

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras just picked whatever was nearest at the time, honestly. For a Frenchman, he has no great love for wine, but it is available and plentiful, and marginally better than the water available in Paris. "Mm, that is assuming there is anything to take action against here." He pauses, frowning, trying to access a slight flicker of a memory from his first day at the mansion. It passes, though, and he shakes his head.

"I --cannot recall if I have. It is more than likely."

[wickedwit]

"Results you can't remember, then?" asks Claudius with a wry laugh and another drink of wine. "I suppose that's often the aim of thoughtless excesses. They can be very distracting, for a time."

[untamedantinous]

"Something like that. I do know it gave me an awful headache." It was certainly distraction, yes, and distraction would still be welcome, but perhaps not the laudanum sort. He's had quite enough of that.

[wickedwit]

"We need to find you company," Claudius says, smiling a little fondly. Perhaps this is a bad habit of his, finding blonde boys lost without purpose and deciding they need friends. "They'll give you headaches, too, of course. And needle you with questions about Voltaire. But they'll keep you occupied."

[untamedantinous]

“Oh, there’s already someone that does that.” Is that fondness in his voice or impatience, or a mixture of both? “I don’t know if he keeps me occupied so much as he drives me entirely mad, most of the time. Have you met Grantaire? I know he is here.”

[wickedwit]

"We've encountered one another once or twice," Claudius says, though his memory isn't hazy on this one -- it's exactly twice. "I assume you're one of the friends he so dryly and cynically praises by disclaiming his own dedication for causes." One of his dead friends. Well, then, it's fortunate one of them is still walking around and researching French history.

[untamedantinous]

“I…” He looks down for a moment, considering, and there is a wry, somewhat resigned twist to his mouth. “‘Friend’ is novel, from him. Usually it’s some mythological nonsense like ‘sungod’ or ‘Apollo.’ But yes, we do know one another.”

[wickedwit]

"So you're the sun," Claudius says with some amusement, but also it's an interesting connection. He doesn't want to dwell too much on the sad ways Enjolras and Galahad are alike, without their purposes, or on how thoroughly he failed to offer Galahad any new purpose when last they spoke. So it's pleasantly distracting to consider how Enjolras and charming Grantaire connect ... and how utterly lovelorn 'sungod' and 'Apollo' sound¹. "I assume he has more than friendly feelings for you, then. Are they unrequited?"

¹ The first thing Claudius did was mentally compare Enjolras's hair to the sun, but Claudius was melancholy. He doesn't do that sort of thing out loud.^2
2 Sorry, that was an unauthorized use of the dramatic irony lever: Claudius is poetically comparing Galahad's hair to things in a lovelorn fashion in a future thread.

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras gives Claudius a very polite, very slow blink, and a long stare. He cannot brush that sentence off with a sharp retort; he hardly knows the man, and yet he wants to. He wants to run, he wants to shut himself up in his room and not come out for the next month or two, or he wants someone to explain all this and the only ones who might be even remotely capable of helping with that are not even present.

“I….I don’t understand,” is what he says, at last; because it is true. He doesn’t understand a lot of things. How someone could have unrequited feelings, why it was Grantaire of all people, how could he have been stupid enough or unknowing enough to miss such a thing, it is all a muddle and it’s all too sudden.

[wickedwit]

Claudius takes a considering drink of his wine. This doesn't take his mind off of Galahad quite as much as he hoped. He thought Enjolras was confiding in him about a friend with an obvious crush ... but Claudius forgot how oblivious young men can be when they're focused on a single purpose. And some simply lack the social graces to identify what an obvious crush looks like, even after outlining all the signs of one. "You're quite all right," he says reassuringly. "I apologize. I can be too quick with my words, at times."

[untamedantinous]

There are many different thoughts racing around his head at lightning speed, despite Claudius’ words of reassurance. Firstly: he only said ‘assume’, that does not mean it is true. Secondly: he doesn’t even know what he feels for Grantaire. Is it ‘more than friendship’, whatever that may be? Thirdly, and a corollary to the second: what is more than friendship? Is this how the others feel all the time? It’s certainly confounding, to say the very least, and it’s no wonder Marius acts as foolishly as he seems to half the time; if this is how his brain is. He feels like a fool, and the color is high on his cheeks from a little embarrassment.

“I am sorry,” he tries, finally, and goes to pour himself a small bit of wine. “It is…only a lot to consider, I suppose, and I am not accustomed to it.”

[wickedwit]

Claudius likely shouldn't meddle further with this subject ... but he can't unmeddle out of it very easily, either. Smoothing past the subject feels almost irresponsible, like putting a danger thought into someone's ear and then leaving. "Not accustomed to romantic matters?" he asks. "Those can be overwhelming enough on their own, whether or not you're accustomed."

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras nods, and abruptly feels very small. He might look it, too, wide-eyed and still a little shaken, suddenly much younger looking than his twenty two years. “I did not—“ he attempts, and it comes out very soft; he clears his throat and tries again.

“I have only ever been concerned with the love of my country and her people.” He shifts a little, feeling uncomfortably laid bare. He doesn’t much enjoy feeling helpless and yet here he is, for the second or third time in only a week, raw-edged and uncomfortable.