six: silence before jean-jacques (open)

[untamedantinous]

A wildfire burns quickly and hot until it is extinguished. In some cases, Enjolras' passion has been likened to a fire. Here at the mansion that fire tends to be mostly banked; but the embers remain. It is easy enough to stir it into wakefulness; and Enjolras' dreams of late have done just that. (They have passed, now, but the burning need to do something remains.) So he is in the café as he usually is, sat at a large table with various piles of writings strewn about.

Off to the side, one might note a flier that is still obviously a work in progress, set off to dry a bit while he works on something else. The general air of disarray suggests that he has certainly been here for hours at least, though he does look a good deal happier than he had the last time he had taken refuge in the café. The warmth and fire of his passion has awoken another familiar friend: writing like he's running out of time.¹ It is in truth very much what he would be doing in Paris, and there is a relaxed pleasure that is evident in the way he sits, in making himself feel useful even if it is for goals of his own making.

He has clearly been at it for some time, fingers inkstained and coffee grown cold beside him. There is a copy of The Social Contract open in front of him, and every so often he makes a thoughtful noise, writes a few things down, then turns to the next page. It is truly only a thought exercise that he's working on, a passing fancy to abridge a work that he is already intensely familiar with; but he appreciates the challenge. It is entirely different from the other, more private writings he has been working on, which are kept in a small notebook currently buried under all those sheets of paper. Regardless, the work pleases him --though the coffee does not. He picks his cup up to take a sip, makes a face, and rises to go start himself another.





¹ Wrong musical, same vibes.

Comments

[futaille]

He grins brightly. "Interesting and absurd? Why thank you, I feel immensely complimented." He grabs the draft of the flyer and then a pencil, starting to sketch on the empty space.

[untamedantinous]

"Mmhm." He looks up briefly to shoot Grantaire a small pleased smile, and then quite promptly goes back to wrestling with his latest turn of phrase.

[futaille]

He glances up from his sketching. "What part have you gotten to?"

[untamedantinous]

"I am up to book three, so far."

[futaille]

"Making good progress, then. Not that I'm surprised you're mustering both the will and the strength for this particular project."

[untamedantinous]

"I wonder how Rousseau would feel should he know I am making his writings subordinate to my will." He sounds mildly amused, if still distracted.

[futaille]

"It does seem a bit tyrannical. Perhaps the words should vote on the matter."

[untamedantinous]

"They do not have conscious thought, it is a puzzle."

[futaille]

"Ah, see, I was thinking to comb through the text and counting each 'oui' against each 'non', even if they are hidden in other words."

He will probably not do this.

Probably.

[untamedantinous]

"Tch." There's a dismissive wave, and he goes back to his writing.

[futaille]

"Entirely fair. I would imagine the oui vote would carry anyway."

[untamedantinous]

"Mmhm." There he goes, back to not paying attention again.

[futaille]

"So the words assent to the culling. Continue with their blessing."

[untamedantinous]

“I shall,” absently. “Particularly if I am to get this done and printed for the meeting.”

[futaille]

He returns to his sketch. "Oh, tell me I get to critique it."

[untamedantinous]

“Do as you will.”

[futaille]

"Oh, I usually do," he says cheerfully. He then holds up the sketch¹. "What do you think?"

¹ Please do keep in mind his drawing is better than mine.

[untamedantinous]

He glances up and gives it a brief once-over, nodding. "It is well done. I will make a few more adjustments on the wording, probably."

[futaille]

He shrugs. "I can do it, if you'd like. I have to clean up the drawing anyway. And it would give you more time to work on your abridgement."

[untamedantinous]

He finally raises his gaze from his work to arch an eyebrow at Grantaire, trying to judge whether or not he is, in fact, serious. "Mm. Very well, but do realize that I will still have a say in what is printed."

[futaille]

"Of course you will," he says amiably. "You know how to actually work the press. I just want to make it likely for people to actually show up."

[untamedantinous]

"Laertes does too. We found it together, after all."

[futaille]

"Either way, I certainly can't print them unassisted. Or I could try, but it would be terrible and ineffective, so of course you will be able to look it over."

[untamedantinous]

“I myself am still learning, but I will do my best.”

[futaille]

"I have every faith in you."