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

[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.

[wickedwit]

"You'll think this is a fanciful turn of phrase, the sort Grantaire might make about you," Claudius says, already rolling his eyes at himself, "but ... it sounds like you've been living the life of a holy knight, focused on a singular quest to restore liberty to your country. It doesn't leave a lot of time for romantic matters." Some people have sworn oaths specifically not to be involved in romantic matters, for example.

[untamedantinous]

Ugh.. Enjolras joins in on that eyeroll and hunches his shoulders up, on the defensive, now. He’s feeling a little more sure of himself now that he has some nonsense to respond to.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies, blunt as anything. “But I certainly wouldn’t presume to call myself either holy or a noble knight.” The very idea itself is distasteful, clearly. “I just never saw the point of it, is all it is; nothing so high-minded as your crusade you’d have me on.”

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, with a wry toast of his glass. Having Enjolras on surer footing seems worth the fanciful comparisons. "You know your mind -- that's clear enough. So what is your mind on Grantaire?" he asks as delicately as he can.

[untamedantinous]

He arranges his shoulders at that, a bit like a cat who is grooming themselves back to their natural state after some unwanted touch. Still uncertain ground, it’s true, but at least he has a raft to stand on now instead of drowning.

“I don’t know,” Enjolras replies, and it rings as true as anything he’s ever said on the barricades. He really doesn’t, he can’t —or chooses not to —comprehend what passed at the barricades just yet, excepting that it was not at all what he had expected from Grantaire. “He has surprised me in more ways than one.”

[wickedwit]

"I imagine so." More ways than the potential crush which Claudius could claim was a mistake on his part -- but that's not the picture he's getting. Grantaire came into the mansion covered in his own blood and the blood of his fellows after dying in a revolution he spoke very cynically about. Something or someone must have inspired him to put his life down for it, and Claudius assumed it was his esteem for his friends¹. "Which is the most surprising?"

¹ On reflection, Claudius's half-acknowledged plan to throw himself at a young man who doesn't care about causes had a flaw. 'Dying to be with someone you deeply care about' sounds suspiciously like a cause.

[untamedantinous]

"Mm." He looks down at his wine glass, swirling it a little for lack of anything better to do, certainly not because he's trying to avoid the question. "That he believes in something." It is, once again, not entirely a lie. But telling Claudius the truth feels almost -- unjust, when he hasn't even broached the subject with the man in question. He has never been one to lay all his secrets bare¹ within hours of meeting someone.

¹ Or other things, that are more generally bare. You know what we're getting at here.

[wickedwit]

"Well, then," Claudius says smoothly, "if he's surprised you this many times, this seems like an excellent opportunity to get to know the man."

[untamedantinous]

He purses his lips a bit. "I have tried." He has, at home. He is hesitant to do the same here; but he is hesitant about many things concerning Grantaire at this point in time.

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs. "I've no doubt it was a tiresome effort. Some people will deliberately bewilder you, and Grantaire doesn't seem the sort to speak plainly or directly -- not if he's been calling you sun-god for however many years." He shakes his head, gesturing with his wine. "But as I said, I can be too quick with my words, and too quick to take the measure of people. You only need listen to my judgments if they're of use to you."<sup>1

1</sup> Claudius has a lot of judgments about Grantaire that are not immediately useful to Enjolras. He skipped too much of Grantaire's dialogue tree.

[untamedantinous]

"Four or five, I think? Something like that." It's not really an answer, but then again there wasn't really a question, either, and he takes a sip of his own wine. "You are quick," he notes, quiet. "Grantaire scarcely arrived two days before me."

[wickedwit]

"To be honest ..." Wait. There is no benefit to being honest here. Claudius can't believe he almost let himself forget that simple and obvious fact. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind two days. But yes, I believe we hit it off very quickly."

[untamedantinous]

"I do not have that happy talent." Sure, people are drawn to him half the time, but it's not because he's friendly about it. He's grateful for the change of subject, now, this is already so much to deal with that it may well overload everything else that he's been shoving to the back of his head all week.

"But he is -- friendly enough, I suppose."

[wickedwit]

Friendly and obliging,, Claudius thinks but stops himself from saying. "We drank bourbon and played billiards," he says instead. "Two easy things to make friends over. I believe that's why the drink and the sport were invented."

[untamedantinous]

"More than likely," Enjolras agrees, then hesitates. "I know he is also fond of dominoes," he adds, carefully, and there's a slight lipcurl of disdain that we all knew was coming sooner or later. "Among his other, more irritating hobbies."

[wickedwit]

Claudius notices it and considers it a good sign -- Enjrolas seems to enjoy complaining about Grantaire. He laughs. "So you do know some things about him: the things he irritates you with. What hobbies are these?"