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]

"You are not sorry at all," lightly. "Fortunately I have experience ignoring distractions."

[futaille]

"You're right on both counts, and you're welcome for the latter."

[untamedantinous]

“It was not only you I was speaking of.”

[futaille]

"Oh, I never said it was. Still, though, you can hardly deny I've done my fair share."

[untamedantinous]

“That is so.” He sets his pen down and takes a sip of his coffee. “Is there anything else you’re going to add?”

[futaille]

"To the flyer? Well, I'll make it sound interesting."

[untamedantinous]

"I have been informed that I should make things more inviting. Which I suppose is what you are intending to do, as well."

[futaille]

"Precisely what I intend to do, my dear A--Enjolras. As compelling as you are to observe when you're on about anything you believe in, the advertisement you've started is anything but."

[untamedantinous]

He raises an eyebrow, and once again fails to hide a slight smile. "I am well aware, thanks to the opinions of Mlle. Susan and Claudius."

[futaille]

"Well, good thing I'm around, then, to shield you from boring advertisements and meetings with no attendees."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm. Without a single classical allusion. Are you feeling quite alright?"

[futaille]

He smiles slowly and broadly. "Are you issuing a challenge?"

[untamedantinous]

"At the moment, I am coming to regret even uttering that last sentence."

[futaille]

"I disbelieve you," he says with a grin. "Now, I could be Aegis, passed on from Zeus and Athena to you to protect you. I could be to you like the waters of the Styx to Achilles, although I would say you would not want to extend that metaphor too far. All in service of your protection, even though the threat is much more mundane."

[untamedantinous]

"So it is. I must assure you I am quite capable of protecting myself, however, and so you might cease with your antiquities." He knows he's fighting a losing battle, here, but he must at least try.

[futaille]

Might is certainly not must, and thus a continuation. "Against this particular opponent? It seems rather evident that you are not. But I can be Ariadne's thread, leading you through the Labyrinth to slay the possibility of a meeting with us as the sole attendees."

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, yes, as you say." He's going to go back to frowning at The Social Contract again. "As I said, I already immensely regret the turn this conversation has taken, and I shall be certain not to make the same error again."

[futaille]

"Oh, I'm sure I can be silent for a while if you bid me. Or is it not silence you wish but a different turn to the conversation?"

[untamedantinous]

Ah. Once again, that is not how he had intended this conversation to turn. He's certain Grantaire would do many things if he bid him to, practically anything -- but he has work to do and that is a thought for another day, even if his work is self-imposed. Regardless, he clears his throat and takes a long sip of coffee. "Perhaps I will bid you to be silent another time," he finally says. "For now, I should think a different turn to the conversation."

[futaille]

Grantaire's eyebrows rise in mild surprise. Whether it's at not being asked to be quiet or at the intriguing 'perhaps another time', not even he is entirely sure of.

"Very well then. My thoughts on revolutions?" He grins.

[untamedantinous]

"Christ," but it's darkly amused. "I'm certain I've heard it before; but it wouldn't feel as though I were working on things correctly without something in the background, so --" He waves a hand. "Perhaps not revolutions, though."

[futaille]

"Very well, M. Pointedly-Not-a-Deity. Choose a topic and I shall expound."

[untamedantinous]

“Oh, I hardly know. Moths. Take a page from Combeferre’s book.”

[futaille]

He pauses. "Moths." It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, as it was very much not a topic he was expecting. "All right. The lowly cousins of butterflies. Blessed with the same general form but lacking the appreciative reception. Regardless, there is much to appreciate. After all, what they are perceived to lack in natural beauty, they make up for in a definite taste for fashion. Also, they appreciate and are always seeking spots of brightness in the world around them. When I think on it, perhaps I have a great deal in common with them."

[untamedantinous]

“My. You may compete with Combeferre soon enough,” he replies with an amused smile.