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

[untamedantinous]

"I am attempting to abridge The Social Contract. Mostly to see if I can do it, I am already familiar enough with the material."

[wickedwit]

"Enjolras," Claudius says with due seriousness, setting the flyer down. "That is so in keeping with your character that it makes it the most endearing thing you could have told me. I feel as though I should've been able to predict it. The fact that I didn't and yet was utterly unsurprised to hear it only adds to its charm. Also, you should have your abridged copies printed and handed out at your first meeting -- it makes a useful introduction to the philosophies you're passionate about, and it's a thoughtful touch."

[untamedantinous]

"Then I shall have to work quickly, I suppose. Menestheus is not far off, after all." A beat. "You do seem intent on turning this into an event of some sort. I was just expecting it to be a gathering, most likely."

[wickedwit]

"Now what is the difference between an event and a gathering? I feel like there's a philosophical question there."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm, I would say an event has a ...schedule, perhaps? I did not really intend for this sort of thing to have any kind of schedule. They never did at home."

[wickedwit]

Claudius ponders the puzzle, but he naturally drifts towards the personal one rather than the philosophical one. When Grantaire toasted to Enjolras, it was as their leader and the sun all their meetings wound around -- but Enjolras is so insensible of the effect he has on other people, he might not realize it.

Nevertheless, Claudius is going to tease him about it. "Enjolras," he says and smirks, "I see why you're struggling so much to express the draw of your meetings in a handbill. You were the draw. You never had to make up a schedule, or prepare discussion topics, because you inspired everyone around you with your charm and conviction to keep the conversation going."

[untamedantinous]

"Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning back to his writing with a determined set to his jaw. "You're as bad as Grantaire, and you do not even have his excuse." Therefore, he is going to treat any such nonsense as he usually does, and ignore it or make absent comments.

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs. "And you didn't even know what Grantaire's excuse was until I told you. You do miss these things, Enjolras. But that's all right -- just remember to put on your handbill that you'll be hosting this meeting."

[untamedantinous]

"I assumed that was implied by where it is taking place," he replies, still writing. He has perfected the talent of writing and holding a conversation at the same time. "I don't miss them. I simply have little interest in them."

[wickedwit]

“Those are not mutually exclusive, Enjolras.”

[untamedantinous]

“Are they not? Enlighten me.”

[wickedwit]

Claudius tilts his head and sips his wine, considering this invitation to discourse. "Let me put it this way. I have a great interest in poisons. For many reasons, but after reading Mr. Darwin's theories, I'm even more interested in poison as an adaptation -- a trait that certain plants possess, and through possessing, survive and flourish in circumstances where other plants fell prey to foragers. Because of my interest, I've studied more, I see more. Where someone else may only see yellow flowers, I see deadly henbane. Deadliness isn't visible to the eye. It's visible in its effects, but those effects are only known once you've familiarized yourself with forms and patterns. Then you'll see the whole history of conflict on the edges of a garden, the back and forth between plants and pests, the casualties and victories of evolution. But you have to know where to look ... and if you aren't interested, you aren't looking. You'll miss something. In that regard, human relationships aren't that different from poisons."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm. I must admit to knowing absolutely nothing about poisons; so I will defer to your expertise there. But I will say I am not the easiest of men to get along with; so I think your attributing meeting attendance to my charm holds very little weight." He flips a page in his book, and continues frowning thoughtfully.

[wickedwit]

"Sweet Enjolras, I would never accuse you of being easy to get along with," Claudius says with utmost solemnity. "Belladonna seeds are spread by sparrows, though a handful of berries would kill a human being. Charm, like poison, is seen in its effects, but it doesn't effect all creatures equally, or in the same way."

[untamedantinous]

"Good." There is a beat. "Has Grantaire told you yet, of how we half-frightened Pontmercy out of the Amis before he had even begun? I do not know how much he has spoken of the rest of us."

[wickedwit]

"Oh, he's told me a thing or two, but not the whole story. Are you offering me a story?"

[untamedantinous]

"If you would like one, yes." He does, at last, turn his attention from his writing to regard Claudius thoughtfully. "He may not recall it all, he was in his usual form going on about something or another. Courfeyrac had brought Pontmercy along with him to introduce him to all of us. Everyone was going on about something, it was quite a normal meeting in that sense of things. Until someone brought up Waterloo --ah, the battle where Buonaparte was defeated."

[wickedwit]

"Buonaparte -- that's the emperor, yes? The one that come after that first Revolution and the Terror that followed it."

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, it is. I believe Pontmercy's father fought with him, or something along those lines. In any case, at the mention of Waterloo, Pontmercy went into raptures -- for five or ten minutes at least-- over Buonaparte's greatness and the glory of France, that sort of thing; and asked what could better than conquering the world." He's trying his very best to hide a smile, but it's not working at all that well, it lingers in his eyes and the side of his lips are twitching.

"Combeferre answered him with one sentence: 'to be free.' Then he left the room. I told Pontmercy exactly where my own priorities lay, as well." There is a pause. "...He did not come back for some time after that, but he did come back. Eventually."

[wickedwit]

"Oh, I wish I could have seen," Claudius says with a long, appreciative laugh. "Such a beautiful retort from Combeferre. And you, I'm sure you were in fine form, too. Truly a shame that I missed it," by dint of being in another world.

[untamedantinous]

He shrugs. “I certainly did not go into raptures like Pontmercy; but I made my thoughts clear all the same.” There is a pause. “If he should arrive, you will understand better. Pontmercy is…flighty. But brave all the same. I am told he actually survived everything.”

[wickedwit]

"I was happy to hear it, of course. Grantaire did tell me about him, but not the whole drama of his first meeting. He spoke of Pontmercy's willingness to listen." Smile softening, he says, "Grantaire gives the most gracious of toasts. Observant without being vicious, in the way the barbed wits of Elsinore are -- he's too loyal and loving a man to truly tear anyone apart. You are lucky to have him, you realize."

[untamedantinous]

"Pontmercy did come and listen, sometimes. He never spoke as much as he did that first time, really; but he was inoffensive." He shrugs a little, a small fond smile blooming despite his best efforts. "Mm. I am. You needn't tell him that, please; though I know you will likely ignore that."

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs. "Yes, but I'll keep it in reserve for the next time I want to overwhelm him into accepting a compliment. It's a masterstroke, you know. All my usual, excessive flattery, and then 'moreover, I've heard it from Enjolras himself that he's lucky to have you, which honestly is an understatement considering how oblivious he'd been for most of your friendship.'"

[untamedantinous]

"And what if I tell him before that?" It's said with amusement, he does not currently intend to -- but he might, at some point. "All of your overwhelming tendencies will be for naught."