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Who? Eponine and whoever wants to talk to her
What? Eponine returns to the Capitol and (for once) the stylists have listened to her requests and just left her alone.
Where? wandering the streets
Warnings? I can't imagine that there will be too many.

It had taken her a lot of staring into the mirror in her bedroom to convince Eponine that she was not hallucinating. It had taken her a lot of pinching and prodding and poking her finger through the gaps in her teeth to convince her that it wasn't a dream. She was back. She looked how she had done in France, sunken cheeks, matted hair and big bags beneath her eyes and scars from living rough, and her Pa's belt when he was cross. She wasn't beautiful any more, but then, what did it matter? Men refused to love her, beautiful or no.

Rather, she was elated. FINALLY, someone had listened. FINALLY someone had given her even a little bit of control over some aspect of her life. She didn't like how she looked - but it felt a little bit more honest at least.

Having dressed in just a simple brownish pinafore dress, Eponine wandered out into the Capitol to find food and a friend.

It was so lovely to be able to walk along and not be stared at for a change.

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To Cosette, she didn't even know it to be a competition. Cosette thought sincerely that they were the slightest of friends here and she clung so desperately to the knowledge of someone from home. Even if what little she remembered of their past was rocky at best. At the curtsy, Cosette allowed a small smile to her lips and returned the action, finding it awkward in the shorter dress she'd been forced in.

"Eponine... They didn't force you into their ridiculous clothing this time?"

Like herself, who had given into the stupid whims of her stylists.

"No, Mademoiselle. I would not let them." she replied tightly, hugging her skinny arms about her body.

She eyed Cosette warily. "You don't curtsey to me. Not any more. Not for a long time. You don't remember me as your sister - I am the beggar who accosted you in church and led you to our rooms. Things do not change here, Mademoiselle."

She couldn't look at Cosette; she looked at her feet. The girl was beautiful, so lovely in all aspects. And Eponine hated her for it.

"I admire that," Cosette murmured, even more irritated with herself for having given in to her stylists. But as Eponine continued on, she sighed.

"Things do change here, Eponine... I may not remember much from childhood, I may only remember you vaguely currently, but this place is different from home. And it has changed us whether we want it to have or not."

She pressed her lips together and shoved her hands into her coat's pockets. Most of all, she didn't like being told what to do, really. "Which means that I will curtsy to you if I choose to do so."

"Then you are as stupid as you look." Her reply is vicious. But it's worth noting that Cosette does not remember her childhood. Does that mean Eponine can influence her memories, and convince her that they had a happy time?

She squeezes her waist tighter. "It doesn't change. You tell me what has changed. That you are forced to kill to live? That you are starved for weeks because people just do not want you to eat? Well, Madame, this has changed for you, perhaps, but not for me."

Here, she's still forced to do things she hates by people she cannot escape. Here, she's still skinny and ill, and put in cuffs when she disobeys. Here, she is still ultimately all alone whilst everyone else is happy.

"Your opinion."

Cosette continued to watch her, hands clenching in her pockets. "They try to make us into something we're not and parade us for their entertainment. You are to tell me that is the same as back home? If that is what you believe, I am sorry to hear that..."

But perhaps it is pointless to try and convince her otherwise.

"And you think I was brought up to be this, Mademoiselle? To stand in rags and watch a man murder someone? To pull teeth from a body still warm so I can have a crust of bread?"

She snorted, and started forwards, before rocking back again. "It was not I who was destined to walk the streets, Cosette, I was not indeed. I was to be the lady. Do you not think on who has made me this? Do you truly believe I have done this to myself?"

Though she had been near shouting as she began to speak, her voice slowly trailed into quietness as she fought to hold back tears. Of course Cosette would not understand. Of course she wouldn't care. That horrid girl - she ruined everything.

"I did not say that!" Cosette cried back, trying to interrupt her and raising her own voice in the process. "You cannot claim I have said things I have not. I believe none of that, Eponine!"

She wanted to step closer, to try and comfort her, but even now she knew that was a mistake. "I do not believe you did this to yourself at all, nor that you were meant to do any of that."

She shook her head. "You say the world can change, though. That we are different now. And I tell you that for me, nothing has changed. Or perhaps some things I must do. Perhaps the clothes. Perhaps because some people here can stand the sight of me."

She laughed mithlessly. "But that I am made to do it, no. That I loathe it? That even now the men who are kind to me are wicked men who have killed. I may as well be in Paris. It makes no difference to me!"

Cosette removed her hands from her pockets, cradling them around her torso, crossed, in a defensive motion almost. "Anything can change, Eponine. Show them... We should show them that we're not... They can't...."

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, dropping her voice. "It must make some difference, being here. And we can show them that they can't just make us do all of this without a consequence of their own."

"And what will you do, Mademoiselle?" She spat out bitterly. "Will you faint and show them that you cannot stand it? Well, shall I tell you what I have done? I ran away, a long time ago, Madame. And they killed me. They held me on my knees and they shot me in my head and they brought me back to fight some more. Would you let them do that? Would you dare? I do not think you would dare at all."

She shook her head, mimicking Cosette;s defensive gesture. "Perhaps for you, things can change. You got out of the gutter, did you not? You pretend to be a lady - and do not worry, I will not give away your secret... for now. But for me... we were always bad, no? I suppose it has caught up with my family now. Things, for me, only change when they get worse. There will be no 'better' for me."

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