And I know there must have been some kind of sorrow

[libertin]

Who| Courfeyrac, Marius, & Enjolras
What| Bros talk strategy
Where| Some public place 
When| The day before the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Nope

It was the eve of their destruction, and for the second time in as many weeks Courfeyrac found himself facing the inevitable realization that he was standing at the precipice of his own demise. It was a heavy situation to find himself in again, though this time he found the anticipation more difficult to deal with. Before he'd felt so sure and right about what he was doing and how glad he was to lay down his life for the birth of the republic. This death would have none of the glory, none of the significance. This battle would be remembered by no one, forgotten just as surely as their victor had been crowned.

At least he had coming back to look forward to this time. Except, that in all honesty, he wasn't convinced that he would come back. Of course he'd been told of this predetermined fact, listened to friends and mentors swear it up and down, but some small part of him was convinced that this time his death would be a permanent one. If it lost the meaning, it would gain it's lasting effect.

As suicidal as he had been at the barricade, Courfeyrac now found that he was markedly less so as the hours ticked by and their entrance into the Arena approached. Had he found something to live for? No, but he hadn't found anything he cared to die for either, and that was incentive enough for him to set his initial idea of immediate suicide aside for later. There would be time for that, if it came down to it. It would stand as a resort-- perhaps not even a last resort, but a resort nonetheless.

That decision did little to calm his nerves. He was not an anxious man by nature. He was generally jovial, calm, witty. In the barricade he had remained one of the cooler heads, sure and committed, not shaking or afraid. He was not shaking now, but he was afraid. The barricade had been comfortable. It was known to them. Whatever the next day had in store would be foreign and terrible, and the anticipation might kill him before anyone else had the chance to. But there was no sign of that fear in his expression. He wouldn't allow himself to seem afraid. Courfeyrac could appear to be sure, even though his heart was racing. He could pretend he had no regrets, even though he was desperate for something meaningful to which he could attach this incarnation of his life.

Alone, with Marius and Enjolras, he confessed to them in an unnervingly serious voice, "I don't know that I can kill those people. What incentive do I have to harm them? I do not know them. I do not know what any of them stands for. How am I to choose a target if I am blind?"

Comments

[libertin]

Courfeyrac's attention snapped back to Marius. He caught the low tone in his voice, that stark alarm bell that was ringing. It suddenly occurred to him as well that their conversation would be monitored, especially considering how "popular" his compatriots were, being the most recent Victor and the very public bridegroom. Of course the Capitol would be watching.

Eyes fixed on Marius still, he spoke to Enjolras, "We should discuss this in depth. When it is safer. We we are not on the eve of destiny."

It wasn't the destiny he wanted, nor was it one he could embrace, but destiny was destiny regardless. He was fated to die in the Arena, and die he would.

[orestes]

"Destiny is a rather grand way of putting it," he scoffed bitterly, but let the topic drop nonetheless. They were right, of course. This was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. French would afford them only so much privacy within the Capitol, and certainly not in a very public, very crowded establishment.

"Have you considered strategy within the Arena? Outside of protecting your wife?" The question was directed at Marius, but his eyes lingered on Courfeyrac. What would his friend do? For his part, Enjolras had never put himself into that position with Marius and Cosette. Perhaps it had been selfish, maybe even cruel, but he had preferred solitude within the Arenas. The transient meetings between friends or allies was more than enough human contact for him, and it kept the potential more regrettable confrontations to a minimum. Besides which, everyone was to die anyway, in the end. There was a certain inevitability to it that was comforting, at least from the outside.

"The Arenas are, in my experience, outdoors, although I have heard that they change the layout with some regularity. To keep people from simply running off, there is a force field --an invisible fence, of sorts-- that you cannot pass through. It will hurt if you try, this I know well. It glints in the light, almost like a thin layer of ice on pavement, or very clean glass. I recommend you find it, and move around the periphery of the area." Avoidance, and constant movement. That would be the best way to keep them out of trouble, Enjolras figured. "If you stay too much in one place, a group of three or more will be found. If you stay too near the Cornucopia, you will be killed."

[saisamour]

A question that startled Marius, for plans not aligned with protecting Cosette had not crossed his mind even in the slightest, and the thought that he had so easily and carelessly resigned Courfeyrac to his death caused him guilt. His eyes darted to one side, quickly, and he found he could not look either of his companions straight in the eye.

"Perhaps we must peruse the services of the Training Center, as well." He had, admittedly, been there only scarcely. There had been little reason to before Cosette arrived, after all. "Instruct ourselves on edible and poisonous plants, trap-making..."

He trailed off there, his throat closing up and his face paling from merely imagining what shape the next Arena would take, and what dangers and certain death awaited them there.

why do you guys let me write? that tag was riddled with typos.

[libertin]

Courfeyrac didn't see much point in spending his last day of freedom cooped up in the Training Center. It was too late for that, and in all honesty, he'd rather seek out more pleasant company, such as Cinderella's. Other forms of strategy were lacking as well. He was never their tactician. He was the doer of deeds. He accomplished things.

It was this realization that had him angry. He was doomed. Marius was doomed. Marius' poor wife was doomed.

He wished, almost, that he could blame Enjolras for this. It of course was not Enjolras' fault, but he was so unhappy with his friend that it would have pleased him to take it out on him, if only for a moment. Even Marius was close to deserving his wrath.

"I am tired of this talk," he declared in disgust. "Whatever happens tomorrow will happen tomorrow. I shall enter the Arena with no peace in my mind or heart. I am angry and afraid and unhappy. Brilliant. I've craved solace and the pair of you have refused me completely. What perfect friends I have. Such fine brothers."

He wanted to excuse himself. He wanted to find better company. Marius would have his wife to cry to. Enjolras would have his books, and barring that, he would have his denied mistress. Courfeyrac had no one.

maybe but I am legitimately the slowest

[orestes]

"You crave solace at the expense of the truth." He snapped back quickly, studying his despairing friend with something too close to clinical curiosity to be kind. It hit him then what he must have looked like from the outside. They were all, in their various ways, scared animals kicking and screaming impotently before the slaughter. He and Courfeyrac were shades of a general kind so perhaps this was the best reflection of himself however many months earlier. Though while Courfeyrac judged Enjolras and Marius and found them lacking, Enjolras had had no one so familiar in whom to confide his feelings. There were drawbacks and benefits to both situations, he supposed.

"A brother would do what is best for a man even when he himself cannot see it. A brother is under no obligation of kindness as much as he is of virtue and fair play. Reject us if you will, my friend," He bit his lip, considering the complications that might arise if Courfeyrac actually took him up on that gamble. "But we are the only brothers you have left."

And with that, he turned his attention from Courfeyrac, rounding on Marius instead. "I will be in the Training Center tomorrow. I am not very skilled, but there are guides to much of the plant life indigenous to this area. They crossbreed them for the Arenas, so you should not expect to find any of them so readily. Nevertheless, it cannot hurt to be prepared."

[saisamour]

"No, wait, I..." But the harshness in Courfeyrac's tone caused Marius to cringe and the apology died in his tongue. His eyes darted reflexively to the floor; in that moment he very much wanted a hole to suddenly open before him, so that he could jump into it and escape this entire conversation.

Enjolras did little to assuage the tension. He could feel the irritation he held towards the other man pricking at him once more, a thousand tiny needles jabbing incessantly at his patience until it broke, even when he realized that his words rang true despite the unnecessary harshness in the way it was delivered.

But Marius did not want Courfeyrac to reject him. He raised wide, mildly panicked eyes to both of them, barely even acknowledging Enjolras's address. "B-But we need not argue..."

[libertin]

The look in Marius' eyes was almost enough to ease his anger. It was nearly enough to send him over the edge of rage and into the sunlight of forgiveness. What had Marius really done to deserve it anyway? Marius had always been dreamy and listless. That was to be expected on his accord. It was Enjolras who was the problem.

"There is no argument. Forget I've said anything. I know I need not ask that you do that." He didn't bother looking at Enjolras any longer, focusing instead on Marius. "I am leaving. Do what you will, I will not begrudge you. And when your friend here is in more generous and kindly spirits, perhaps we will have the opportunity to speak again. Farewell, Marius."

And with that, Courfeyrac stood to prepare to leave.

[orestes]

Nothing could be done to change Courfeyrac's mind once it was made up, Enjolras knew that well enough by now. Instead he stared darkly down at the table as the man made to leave. Would his perfections have been so different if their roles were reversed?

Marius is the anomaly, the unpredictable element in this equation. He'd never gotten to know the boy well enough to say for certain, beyond the realm of empiricism, how he was taking to Panem. He knew that between the two of them, Marius would choose Courfeyrac and so, without much thought, he waved him off. "Follow him, if you like. You'll both be dead in a few weeks anyway and then we can begin our actual work."

[saisamour]

And Courfeyrac was, without question, the one that Marius had reflexively turned to, even before Enjolras's dismissal.

Still, he paused, darting an uncertain look first to Enjolras, then to Courfeyrac. Was it right for him to leave the discussion as it was, without either of them parting on favorable terms? Would it be overstepping his boundaries if he requested they first talk things out at length until they come to some sort of satisfactory agreement?

But Courfeyrac was leaving and he had never been entirely comfortable alone with Enjolras. So he gave the other man a hasty bow before hurrying in Courfeyrac's direction, stumbling a little as he called out, "C-Courfeyrac!"

[libertin]

Courfeyrac glanced over his shoulder, slowing his gate to accommodate Marius joining him. While looking back, his eyes met Enjolras' for a moment, just long enough that he could at last turn the corner to forgiveness. It was quick, barely noticeable, but Enjolras was a keen man and sure to pick up on the exchange.

That wouldn't prevent Courfeyrac from leaving, however. He waited the few moments it took for Marius to catch up with him before he continued on his way. "Come, Pontmercy. You and I must catch up. I've met your wife at last."

And with that, he was ready to abandon Enjolras. For now.

[orestes]

The trouble with essentially all living together was that it meant a lack of space. Marius and Courfeyrac may have felt content to argue and then walk back home together, but Enjolras was a deeply private person even amongst his friends and the months without them had done nothing to improve that tendency. He needed time to think, time to consider what he could do for them once they were outside the realm of his influence. This would be less of a problem if the actually had time at all.

He did manage to catch Courfeyrac's, and while all was not entirely forgiven (he wasn't certain there was anything to truly forgive in the first place), it was at least compartmentalized. But that didn't move him to get up and follow them.

With a nod small enough to keep the blond curls on his head from bouncing, Enjolras acknowledged Marius' departure. He'd known full well where his not-quite-friend's loyalties would lay.