The fire beneath my feet is burning bright

[libertin]

Who| Courfeyrac & Enjolras
What| Pep talk
Where| District 5 suite, Enjolras' room
When| The night of the crowning/reaping, after this
Warnings/Notes| Manpain

Once the crowning festivities were over and the Tributes et al were released back into the wilds of the Capitol, Courfeyrac went directly back to the tower and took the lift up to the fifth floor with the sole intention of consuming any and all liquor Enjolras had stashed away. The pair of them had gotten separated over the course of the evening, but Courfeyrac was certain his friend would have found his way back to his suite by now.

As for Courfeyrac himself, he was in a peculiar place, emotionally. He didn't want to go into the Arena. He didn't wish to die any longer. However, he likewise understood that by taking part, he would be sparing the others of his District the agony of being reaped and having to fight so soon after the last Arena had ended. His participation spared Max and Cindy, and while he readily accepted the fact that they were better fighters than he was, as well as more clever and likely a lot stronger, part of him had to categorize his acceptance of his fate as a sort of noble sacrifice for them.

That idea made his destiny more tolerable, but it still hurt to swallow it completely. Wasn't being likable a positive trait? It seemed so unfair that his ability to charm people had become his own downfall.

He was considering that miserable notion and adjusting his top hat when he arrived at the main entrance to the District Five suite.  He knocked firmly on the door with a white-gloved fist, finally taking this opportunity to tear off the utterly stupid looking mask he'd been wearing for the entirety of the night.

Comments

[orestes]

Enjolras had changed while he'd waiting for his friend to arrive. It hadn't happened quickly enough, in all honesty, and he couldn't even bring himself to properly fold the tunic and wide-leg, Armenian-style trousers he'd been forced into for the occasion. They, and the billowing cloak were balled into a large white ball of fabric and shoved haphazardly into a corner of his room among the philosophy books and notebook pages that usually littered it. Instead, he wore a pair of loose fitting pants and a comfortably worn shirt. He wouldn't be proper to go out, but Courfeyrac, of all people, had seen him looking far worse.

Besides, their mission tonight was hardly to go out. Drinking out implied a celebration. Drinking in was more suitable to a wake.

He'd been preparing glasses in the kitchen when he'd heard the knock. The Avoxes knew enough to let him answer it for himself, though their ghostly presence still made him feel uneasy. Oh well, they could retreat to Enjolras' room after his friend arrived and assume a certain quality of trivial privacy for the evening.

"You are ever punctual, my friend." He stepped aside, ushering Courfeyrac in with a motion utterly utilitarian. "My room is at the end of the hall. Make yourself comfortable and I will bring what we will be drinking."

[libertin]

Courfeyrac didn't bother to take in the surroundings of the suite at large, instead opting to enter Enjolras' bedroom straight away. There was little time to waste and he was determined not to waste it with unnecessary conversations with people he didn't know, or with unfamiliar Avoxes. He had deep thoughts to think and tonight it would be better to think them while intoxicated.

"Let's have at it," he said, entering Enjolras' room and promptly throwing himself face first onto the bed. His voice became muffled by the bedding. "I doubt I can manage much of anything else tonight."

[orestes]

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, a large bottle of wine under one arm and two glasses held haphazardly in his other hand. They could do well enough and kill the bottle without the benefit of civilized dish ware, but Enjolras still had certain reservations regarding drinking and they could at least maintain a modicum of pretense.

"I don't know if it is wise to let you have this when you look like you're going to pass out already." Enjolras leveled his friend with a pointedly unamused expression, even if he did, in actuality, find the picture of Courfeyrac belly flopped while still in full costume just a little bit funny. "Your mistress will have my head if I let you poison yourself."

[libertin]

"Don't start on that now," he hissed in response, rolling slowly onto his back. "If she were here she would be drinking, too. She would not begrudge me this." He wasn't actually certain of that, but he had to hope it was true. Cindy had proved herself to be a reasonable woman, and beyond that she was exceedingly forgiving of Courfeyrac's many flaws.

"Come, my friend. Pour me some wine. Let us mourn this stupid and sorry occasion." He patted the bed beside him, urging Enjolras to sit down.

[orestes]

Enjolras obliged with a look of only minimal disapproval. Fortunately, the Capitol had seen fit to decorate his room in red tones, so whatever wine would inevitably be spilled on his sheets would at least keep from staining them too terribly. He poured a generous glass, passing it to Courfeyrac, and then a more modest glass for himself. "How are we to proceed? Shall we begin with a eulogy, or perhaps a prayer? I would sing you a song, but you remember my inability to carry a tune while drinking.”

[libertin]

"I have always thought your voice charming." His sarcasm was barely in check as he tasted the wine. Approving of it, he continued to drink. "But I think perhaps I could use some encouragement instead. You have an inspirational quality to you, you know. I have always admired that and now it is what I crave."

[orestes]

"You have generally been profoundly biased." He took a sip from his own cup. The wine was suitable, but not particularly good in Enjolras' opinion. Overly fruity and dry without the hearty quality to make it really worthwhile. It would work for their purposes, of course, and they wouldn't have to feel guilty abut wasting it. Maybe it was better that way.

"My moments of truly spontaneous eloquence, rare though they are, have always been in the service of the Republic. I do not know if I am capable of being comforting in the traditional sense of the term."

[libertin]

Courfeyrac didn't care about the taste of the wine. He'd had far worse fare during his stay in the Capitol. This particular wine would do what he needed it to do, so why bother contemplating it too much?

"I would listen to you say anything, so long as you will distract me from this new arena." Anything to take his mind off the future. Anything to take his mind off of the terrible task at hand.

[orestes]

"I would ask you to do the same for me." The noncommittal reply was accompanied by an equally oblique expression. It wasn't fair, of course, he realized that. Neither of them were in a particularly good predicament, but surely the one forced back into the fray had it worse. "I can never distract myself from the Arenas, try though I may. I recall them more vividly now than I can the barricade."

The logical explanation for that was that the Arenas were longer, and had happened in more recent memory. They only a few months rather than literal centuries in the past. That did nothing to make him feel any less guilty over it. "But let us make an attempt. Tell me about the people in your District and I shall tell you about mine. The Initiate claims to be a Troll, but is quite devout in his way. He scares me, at times, and I make a habit of avoiding the kitchen when he is there."

[libertin]

He snorted at that. Surely this so-called Initiate fellow wasn't really so bad. But then again, Courfeyrac had yet to encounter any of the alleged trolls.

"That explains why you are wasting away." He laughed at his own joke, head rolling slowly to the side so he could better see Enjolras. "Have I told you I met an angel?"

[orestes]

There was a brief moment in which Enjolras' expression shifted from thoughtful disappointment to petty indignation. He wanted to protest that he was not, in fact, wasting away, whatever evidence there might be to the contrary. The severity that threatened to overtake his features was simply due to the natural progression of time, and not any other outside influence. Quickly enough, however, Courfeyrac's second comment catches him and seems the more salient, not to mention pleasant, subject at hand.

"Oh? Has Cinderella been forgotten so easily?" It seemed unlikely, but then his friend had a penchant for hyperbole, particularly when women were concerned.

[libertin]

"Don't be a fool," Courfeyrac tutted, taking a long sip of his wine. "It would take far more wine than we have at present to make me forget her."

Not that he wanted to, exactly. Cindy was an unexpected and pleasant distraction in Panem; the undeserved reward of his afterlife. He enjoyed her company, found himself utterly charmed by everything she said and did, and yet he could not allow himself to completely surrender to the pleasures of falling in love. It wasn't that he didn't love her or couldn't. She was a distraction. At last, he completely understood why Enjolras should have disapproved of the fickleness of human emotion in favor of something constant and distant to work toward. Beautiful though she was, enchanting though she may be, he could never quite focus on anything else once his thoughts turned to Cindy. And that was, quite frankly, a problem. His work ethic had never been exactly stellar. Now with a mistress he actually might love hovering around... well, it was safe to say he might quickly find himself in a great deal of trouble.

Mind still fixed on his favorite distraction, he continued, "Though, to be fair, I did meet him first."

[orestes]

"Him?" There was a certain dry incredulousness to the inquiry, a vague note of disbelief. In another life, Courfeyrac might have woven some elaborate tale, regaled them all with a misadventure fit for the Bard, only to have his angel reveal herself dramatically at the end.

Enjolras took another sip of his wine, watching his friend appraisingly from over the top of his glass. "Oh, go on, then. Where did you meet this angel?"

[libertin]

"We met on a train, of course." Courfeyrac knew full well that he was capable of spinning quite a yarn to wow and distract even the most serious of companions, but he was content to leave that statement there and allow Enjolras to pull the information out of him instead.

[orestes]

"A train," Enjolras repeated, flat and unassuming as he began to parse out exactly what his friend was getting at. The only time he could recall there being trains was on the District tours, and so, unless he had missed something significant in the Arena, or perhaps in Courfeyrac's district itself, that had to be the answer.

"This angel of your District." He mentally counted off the members he knew of. A Frenchman, a princess, a child soldier, Wesker, and now, apparently, an angel. "You have quite the diverse group."

[libertin]

It was quite a diverse group, indeed. And that didn't even include the knight, the detective, or the doctor amongst them. Courfeyrac had yet to encounter anyone in his District that he disliked at least. Excepting Sherlock, of course, but that was to be expected. "He is, indeed. Perhaps you two will meet. His name is Gabriel."

[orestes]

"Then he is not just an angel, but an archangel by some accounts," Enjolras countered, letting his friend's words filter over him. He took another sip from his glass, figuring that, perhaps, this would all be a little easier understood with at least a modicum of alcohol in his system.

"We have troubles indeed, if they can steal away the servants of the Lord. Though, as Panem is essentially godless, I suppose it only makes sense."

[libertin]

He rolled his eyes and jabbed at Enjolras with a pointed finger. "Isn't that a strange fact of this place? God is dead here, and no one seems to miss Him." Slowly, he rolled onto his belly, propped up on one elbow. "What do you make of it, Enjolras? You know I am not especially attached to religion, but isn't it odd how it's all been forgotten here?"

[orestes]

"What do I make of it?" He mused more than spoke. Being something of a lightweight, the wine had already started to cloud his periphery, making the cushions seem too soft, and the room seem too warm. Preferring to maintain his awareness and the full range of his rational faculty, it wasn't a feeling Enjolras particularly enjoyed, but it was one the purpose of which he had come to accept. Particularly in Panem.

"You remember the Cult of Reason, naturally." He words were slow, not belabored but considered. "The Revolutionary government needed to dilute the power of the church and its connections to the king, so they sought to create a new civic religion. The people were not so ready to cast off their ties to God, and so that endeavor was short lived, however, I think that the principle is sound. The church is a traditionalist institution. If one strives for significant social change, he must be willing to deal with it in one way or another. Panem clearly chose to be rid of it. From another aspect, also, one cannot serve too masters. The citizenry would eventually be forced to choose between their God and their slavish devotion to the state."

[libertin]

"I do not know that they chose to be rid of anything," Courfeyrac said softly. "I do not know that they consented to anything at all."

[orestes]

Enjolras had been relatively content with his explanation. It seemed, after all, logical enough, and perpetuated his general distaste for the Capitol and its ways.

"Then you think they fell away in some other manner?" He didn't snort, but the intonation was there nonetheless. "Tell me of this theory, I should like to hear it."

[libertin]

Courfeyrac did not appreciate Enjolras' tone, even if his friend had managed not to snort at him. He didn't like feeling dismissed like that. "I have heard that there are still religious people in Panem. But they do not practice openly. They are afraid of the Capitol. And fear makes men do many things which they would not normally do."