thecapitol | wow this is megalate i'm sorry

Marius tugged at his sleeve and swayed on both feet, his eyes wandering around the room. There was little he could do to subdue his disquiet, even when he convinced himself to believe that his grandfather was making an agreeable effort to accept Cosette as his wife, and thus part of the family, however broken it might be.

But the myriad of ways that this planned supper could go terribly wrong kept twisting and turning in his mind into a labyrinth of anxiety. He could barely keep his food down the entire day, and now, as he waited, he kept fidgeting and checking the common room's clock every other second.

He hoped Cosette would show soon, and before his grandfather besides, for only she could keep him calm.

As with many developments without him directly present during the time of occurrence, Marius awareness of Enjolras's return to the arena had been obtained through an overheard conversation while on one of his daily walks around the Capitol.

It was because of his subversiveness, went the murmurings, and Marius truly wanted to believe that Enjolras's role in obtaining Cosette's Capitol citizenship had only been a coincidence, and not a correlation.

But the Capitol did not work in coincidences.

He pressed the elevator button to the 5th floor several times, wringing his hands as he waited for what seemed like several excruciating hours to reach the destined location. Once he was there, he slipped through the gap before the steel doors had fully slid open and swept one quick glance around the common room, ignoring any puzzled stares darted in his direction, calling said acquaintance's name as he did, with a mild panic,

"Enjolras?"

It was a rare moment when the District 5 suite was not abuzz with activity. Marius had both the fortune of avoiding prying eyes, and the awkward misfortune of being greeted by a desolate common area, the ghostly Avox generating the most sound in the expansive space.

It was by chance that he even caught Marius' attempt at a visit. Since the announcement, Enjolras had (or had at least attempted) to make good on his promise to Venus to keep a daily work out routine. This was half in preparation for the up coming Arena, and half because, as she had predicted, routine ended up being a benefit on almost every level.

As such, Marius was treated to a rather atypically dressed down Enjolras. His rigid tailored jackets were traded here for sneakers, sweatpants, and the rattiest shirt his escorts would allow him to keep. Over his shoulder, a duffel bag was swung haphazardly.

"Marius?" He blinked, not having expected the other Frenchman. "Is something the matter? Courfeyrac is not here, if you are looking for him."

Enjolras's clothing, in fact, made Marius pause in mild surprise—although it was not as shocking as some of the costumes the stylists had forced many a tribute in, so he supposed he shouldn't act so baffled. But his brows furrowed in puzzlement anyway, this time at the greeting, before he rapidly shook his head. "I am not here for Courfeyrac."

But he was in luck, perhaps, that District Five's common area was near-deserted. He breathed in, then took one trembling step forward. "It is you whom I wish to speak with. Is it true, Enjolras? You are to return to the arena?"

Edited 2014-05-17 06:01 (UTC)

This conversation was bound to happen sooner or later, he supposed. He sighed, and moved more deeply into the common area, gesturing for Marius to follow. His duffel he set down by one of the too-plush sofas. It was not a conversation he was particularly looking forward to, for any number of reasons. Not the least of which was that he didn't know how he should feel about the situation. "Yes, that is true. I was informed around the same time as you were, I suspect."

He didn't wait for Marius to settle before moving passed the lounge area into the kitchenette. He didn't need to deal with Marius' shock or gratitude, or commiserations. He'd made his peace with it even if he couldn't decide exactly what it was. "Would you like coffee? I am going to make coffee."

And so did Marius, wide-eyed with concern and a little bit of befuddlement, trail Enjolras into the common area. He made to sit on one of the sofas, but Enjolras apparently had another idea, and so he hurried his footsteps until they reached the kitchenette.

He was silent during the short walk, mostly due to the uncertainty with how he was to continue the topic, now that he had brought it up. He did not know what else to tell Enjolras now that he had the confirmation, just that there must be something he could say or do.

Even if he did not think he could ever wring out the right words from himself, no matter how he tried.

At the question, he blinked. "Y-Yes," he responded, even if he did not really want coffee.

He hadn't and wouldn't pick up Venus's ridiculous habit of singing to the electric coffee maker, but he find himself humming her customary tune as he set the thing up. By the time he made it back to the main common area, the thing was snapping and hissing, signs it was well at work.

He settled on a seat across from Marius. The silence didn't surprise him necessarily but Enjolras did always find himself wishing that his friend were slightly less dreamy. Marius's demeanor forced him lead the conversation. It wasn't always an easy burden to shoulder, especially when it wasn't something he particularly wanted to discuss.

"You should not think that this has anything to do with Cosette."

It was best for them to launch into it rather than spend half an hour tiptoeing around each other with inane pleasantries. Marius' first concern would be his wife, and rightly so. "My efforts on her behalf may have given them a convenient excuse, but they have every reason to want me dead and no other way to achieve that end without risking providing proof of my points."

Marius, meanwhile, only vaguely noted how accustomed Enjolras had become to the futuristic devices of the Capitol; his mind was, first and foremost, concentrated on weaving his jumbled thoughts into coherent phrases.

He had been staring at the far off window without seeing the view of the tall, lavish Capitol buildings, when Enjolras's presence tore him away from it. He bit on the inside of his lower lip as the other man spoke, and then, struck by concern, lowered his gaze to his shoes. "Regardless, she might think she is to blame for it, no matter what I tell her."

And that was not all that he had to say. Even if Enjolras insisted that the Capitol only used the petition as an excuse, Cosette was still taken away from the arena. He raised his eyes once more, his voice unwavering. "I am indebted to you, Enjolras."

Cosette's opinions didn't matter to him. If she chose to believe herself responsible for his being returned to the Arena, that was between her and her husband. He did not seek the woman out enough to have it matter to him. Marius' opinions, however, he was forced to consider. The point of this venture had been to uncloud his associate's head, after all.

He looked away, trading the appearance of modesty or distraction for what was actually a harsh dismissal. "You are not. What sort of man would I be if I saw a woman in her condition, had it potentially within my power to help, and then did not?"

Looking back to Marius, he let the question hang between them.

Finally, the coffee maker broke the silence. Enjolras rose to attend to it. "Moreover, you hardly seem to have considered my motivations in this. We are all imperfect, we are all self-serving. None of us enter into anything without an element of selfishness and I am no different. No better."

wow das fuken rude enjolras, neighed ponymercy silently

Marius held his stare but only for a moment, then darted his gaze down to the hands resting on both knees. His fingers tugged at the cloth there almost absent-mindedly. Enjolras was right, of course; if there was anyone who needed to be released from the arena, it was a married woman like Cosette. He had not thought of it much, but perhaps marrying her had been beneficial to them in more than one way. It felt rather cunning of them, and it only served to worsen his unease.

He was glad for the distraction of the coffee maker, yet at the same time he wished it was as easy to converse with Enjolras as it was with Courfeyrac. He had to speak, though, to get out these thoughts bursting from within him, and so he raised his eyes in the general direction of the other man.

It didn't matter if Enjolras's motive was selfish, "If it is something I can assist with, then I shall do all that I could."

Marius voice called over the sounds of the coffee being poured, prepared. Enjolras let it settle uneasily. What had he wanted from Marius? What tactful way was there to demand that he become the man he had been at the barricades again? The man who had been compassionate and yet feared nothing, the man who had been a worthy lieutenant after all? He frowned, the lines on his face sharp and severe as he carted the coffees back into the lounge.

"There will be, in time." The one thing he would say about returning to the Arena was that it had restored his conviction in the need for change. It was all well and good to say that such things were arbitrary, but to have such irrefutable evidence levied against the process itself was definitely something else. It spoke the caprice of the system, the fact that there was no standard of justice by which it could be measured or to which it would be held. He offered Marius his cup, settling himself with a peculiar sort of nonchalance. As if they weren't discussing matters that could potentially have the two of them killed at a word. "For the moment, I think that having her safely in the Capitol will keep you from being distracted. I need you to help your brothers, Marius, and she was in the way of that."

Marius's grip on the cup he accepted from Enjolras tightened reflexively at Enjolras's last statement, the most minuscule of frowns forming upon his face. It irked him that Enjolras considered Cosette an inconvenience, and it furthermore made him feel as if he had abandoned them, somehow. And perhaps he did, but surely they understood that Cosette will always come first. Always.

His gaze drifted to the dark liquid in his cup, and he began to give it an idle little swirl, staring at the way the steam curled upwards and disappeared into the air. And he thought, if given a choice between Cosette and his brothers, will he forsake them for her?

He forced away the question and said, although he did not take his eyes away from the coffee, "Then I will help. Only tell me what I must do."

Edited 2014-05-28 14:38 (UTC)

Had their views been more of an accord, he might have abandoned them. As it was, however, Enjolras considered Marius to be an odd sort of interloper, and one who was shortsighted at that. In this case, throwing himself into a cause wasn't merely a convenient and exciting means of suicide. Rather, it could mean salvation for all of them, his wife included. How could Marius not understand the need to pursue that to the fullest? So long as they were trapped under the Capitol, they were all doomed. There were no two ways about it.

"Find something useful at the Cornucopia. Stay alive during the Arena, and heed Joly's advice this time. We do not need you killing yourself from exhaustion." He frown, the lines around his mouth making his expression seem tight and critical. Everything he was saying was still just playing into the distraction set before them. "And when we get back... There are things which Courfeyrac and I have discussed. It should not be so different from Paris."

The twirling of the steam had begun to capture Marius's attention, and he continued to stare at it as Enjolras spoke, nodding at certain acceptable points to ensure the latter that he was still listening. He was not very certain about keeping himself alive during the arena, but he raised his eyes to meet Enjolras's and kept his gaze steady even when noting the frown on the other's expression. "I will do my best."

His shoulders visibly tensed when the implications of Enjolras's statement got through him. He recalled the whisperings of something to him back in the darkness of the museum. District 13. The visions of Cosette's execution. The ominous reminder that the tributes can trust no one. How could he tell Enjolras, or any of the others, of what he knew without him sounding like a madman?

Just then, a paralyzing fear that seemed almost triggered surged through him, and he shuddered reflexively. Maybe he had gone mad. He looked away and set the cup down onto a nearby table with an anxious kind of suddenness. It took him a few more seconds before he switched his tongue to mildly-accented Latin and said, slowly, "Be careful whom to trust."

While Enjolras appreciated the modicum of concern Marius showed through the Latin, Maximus had made his deficiencies in the his skill with the language abundantly clear. He hesitated for only a moment, and then opted to respond in kind. If Marius' words were stilted, Enjolras' were slushed and flavored by the almost-Spanish flavor of his southern upbringing. "I know. But speaking this way will only keep them off our trail for so long."

Not wanting to appear too wrapped up in the conversation, he turned his attention back to the coffee in his hand. Hopefully, to anyone watching the cameras he knew to be riddled throughout the suite, this would appear as a routine visit between friends. If he and Marius could even be called friends at all. Friends enough for the Capitol, perhaps. "Eponine was teaching me Argot prior to your falling out, and Courfeyrac, Joly, and I all speak the languages of the south with some skill. I have more faith in shorthand, however, to deflect their attention."

The look Marius gave Enjolras in return was one of frustrated desperation. He wanted so terribly to tell the other man of what had been impressed into his mind back in the last arena, but even the mere thought of doing so caused the fear to curl its hands around his throat and choke him into silence.

And Cosette's tortured screams rang again and again in his ears...

He pressed his lips together and picked up his coffee with mildly trembling hands, trying to focus on Enjolras's words. Shorthand. After a pause, he said in agreement, "That may be safer."

Perhaps he should make an attempt at that, when he was alone. When he could gather his wits and write down what he knew even if it took him the entire day to fight against the panic that crippled him. For now, however, there was the subject of repaying his debt still at hand. Switching back to their native language he said, "I will do all I can, Enjolras. You have my word. Only I..."

Only I fear for her, but he stopped himself there, terrified at how the Capitol would interpret his words if he continued. He glanced up at Enjolras then, however, hoping he understood what he meant.

The lines around Enjolras' mouth tightened. Watching Marius squirm was always a frustrating experience. He didn't wish to frighten the younger man, merely to impress upon him the severity of their situation. How Courfeyrac could stand to live with someone so dreamy and ungrounded would forever elude him.

"Yes, well," he began, suddenly uncomfortable, made guilty by his own demands. "The unfortunate truth is that nothing of value will be accomplished within the Arena. If it will ease your mind, I can guarantee that my return is far less about her and far more about things that I have said here in the Capitol."

He looked down to the coffee in his hands, glad for the element of distraction to help mitigate the tension settling over them. "I apologize for bringing attention upon the both of you simply by your association with me. But you have to realize that none of us will ever be safe so long as they are in power. We could give into their every demand and it would still not be enough. We are tools to them and nothing more, her included."

Marius's raised his slightly-widened eyes and shook his head. "I do not fault you with anything."

Or perhaps, perhaps at the farthest reaches of his mind, during particularly dark moments, he wished Enjolras would simply duck his head and keep silent, for Cosette's sake. But Marius was at fault as well, and even more so, and silence was not the answer. Not here.

He frowned. If only there was something they could do that could evade the Capitol's all-seeing eye. A quiet fell upon him once more, and he turned to the large windows that filled the walls of the room and lit them with sunlight that he was not even sure was artificial or true. After a moment he spoke, almost to himself, "Do you believe that a safer place for us truly exists?"

"Yes," he said quickly. On anyone else, the rapid fire response might have seemed thoughtless, but coming from Enjolras, it was simply a matter of absolute conviction of his beliefs. The Capitol was imperfect, France had been imperfect, but he had a deontological, a priori understanding to these matters. Humans were capable of treating each other with dignity and respect. People were capable of living together in civil society in kindness. He would die a thousand times believing that, working to make it a reality.

He turned back to Marius, attempting to catch the other man's eyes, to somehow impress upon him the same understanding. "I believe that if it does not exist now, we can build it together. People do not need to behave as they do here. This is a perversion, a failure to their natural state and of their perfectibility. We can do better and we shall. You will see, my friend."

Marius met his glance, and as he talked Marius once more understood why he was considered the leader of the Les Amis, what made people like Courfeyrac and Combeferre and Joly follow him both in France and in the Capitol.

And Marius believed him. He knew not what he could to contribute to their cause, other than to fight when told, but he believed him. So he nodded once, the smallest of smiles forming on his face. "I pray you are right."

His eyes drifted across the room then and settled on the duffel bag that Enjolras had earlier been holding. He realized then that he must have been an inconvenience and turned red from embarrassment at the thought of it. He stood up, rather abruptly, and tugged at the hem of his coat. "I-I apologize for the unannounced visit. I will go now."

He nodded, again, before pausing briefly in thought and adding, "You have my deepest gratitude, Enjolras."

In all honesty, Marius had been deliberately ignoring Eponine ever since the unspeakable incident in District 3, even after Ian was kind enough to inform him that perhaps he had been so insensitive towards her and her feelings for him.

But after pondering Ian's statement for several hours he still was nowhere closer to a solution since he started, and so he simply opted to push it to the back of his mind until such time that he would have been forced to face her again. Which was not entirely implausible, what with them being from the same district and all.

Suffice to say, she was the farthest thing from his mind that afternoon, as he strode towards the elevator (almost tripping over a chair) on his way to speak with Cosette about introducing her to his grandfather.

And yet, there she was in the Common Room of District Three, enjoying a rare quiet moment away from her father. Goodness knows where he was - and Eponine wouldn't care, except she was sure that he was out there badgering Sigma or one or another of the Tributes or even worse, promising the Capitolites all sorts of things that weren't really his right to give away.

She was dressed elaborately. Usually, in her 'down time' she stuck to dark jeans and pretty tops, or pinafore dresses and big jackets that hid her shape. But now she was dolled up: her wig was elaborately curled and her makeup was plastered onto her face so thickly that it looked as if it had been applied with a trowel - and definitely by an amateur hand. She was wearing a ball gown that showed off her scant curves - but over the top was one of her own scruffy baseball style jackets.

She, of course, hadn't been looking for Marius. She kept her tabs on him often enough. She watched him come and go nearly every day, though he never saw her, never noticed her. Had he even realised what Harley had done, what Jessica had done, what the Peacekeepers had done to her?

When he tripped, she looked back over the back of the sofa at him. Should she say something? Or would he rather pretend she didn't exist for a little while longer?

She couldn't help herself -

"Monsieur! Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, I—"

He had turned around then, his entire face burning from the embarrassment of being spotted, but he cut off his own hasty assurance that truly, he was fine, when he recognized Eponine. Immediately, he straightened his posture and, after fidgeting nervously with the hem of his plain shirt in awkward silence, cleared his throat and cast his gaze to one side.

Ian told him that it was not particularly difficult to offend Eponine, so Marius's brow furrowed as he pondered on what to say. He realized that there was little he could scavenge in terms of inquiring about the recent events in her life—he had only heard, vaguely, about some parade with her, and that topic was best left untouched. In the end, he chose to respond with a safe, neutral, "I am fine, Eponine."

He couldn't even look at her.

It shouldn't still hurt, that knowledge that he thinks her disgusting. And yet it does. He might as well reach his hands through to her stomach and twist it so that the acid built in her throat.

"I'm - I'm glad, Sir." She turned away. What was she supposed to say?

Marius glanced at her then but it was only the back of her head that greeted him, and he was quite at a loss as to what to do. The observations Ian imparted on him still bothered him, so much that he grew conscious of the impression his words had left on her.

And Cosette would have wanted him to be kind, the way she was towards everyone else.

He took a small, hesitant step towards Eponine. "I-I did not mean for it to sound rude." But did it? What if it had not been, and that the thought only entered her mind after his mention of it? He added, hastily, "Had it sounded so."

Edited 2014-05-18 13:03 (UTC)

Was he talking to her?

Eponine didn't move, didn't acknowledge with her body language, that she had heard, except, perhaps, through a stiffening of her shoulders. He couldn't be talking to her, could he? But who else would he be talking to? But to Eponine? Surely not?

She dared to peep around over her shoulder, and yes! Yes, there he was. Talking to her.

"You are never rude, Monsieur." She said quite shyly. "But you needn't apologise to me. You never have before, you know? You needn't feel you must talk to me if you would rather not. I know now that you don't really like me, and I promise you, Monsieur, I don't need your pity."

All of that is said quite quietly and very firmly. She's resigned herself to the idea that Marius is disgusted by her, and she's told herself that she'd rather he didn't pretend. But oh, how lovely if he could pretend to like her, love - no. She wouldn't torture herself with such thoughts. No, not for her. He'd never love her, never like her. But she would hear him out. She just couldn't help herself.

Pity she did not need, she said, yet pity was what he felt for her. He wished, for what was not the first time, that he possessed Courfeyrac's talent for finding the right words to say.

But he did not. Instead, he fell silent for a brief while. Glanced swiftly to one side before returning his gaze to Eponine. Swayed on his feet. He could leave, he knew, right this moment, turn his back and run away. But thought of meeting Cosette knowing that he had not tried his hardest to somehow mend the rift between him and Eponine kept him rooted to the ground. Cosette would scold him, would likely be ashamed of him.

He wished Cosette were here. She would have known what to do.

"It would be difficult not to speak with you for long. We still live in the same floor."

He intended it as a quip, but as he was not very good at quips, it sounded rather serious. His face burned from embarrassment. "I-I mean to say, I would not wish to leave you ignored."

"Plenty of people do, Monsieur." It was one of those annoying truths, one that Eponine was so talented at saying in so blunt a way. She shrugged her shoulders, as if it didn't feel like somebody ripping open the stitches of her poor, battered heart every time he ignored her, or failed to see her.

"It's... it is just so, isn't it? Monsieur, it doesn't... doesn't matter. Somebody must hold my position, no? It is that somebody must be disliked. Well, that is all there is to it. You mustn't make yourself unhappy on my account, SIr. You have not spoken to me in an age, Sir. You never even see me. I know that."

Marius's eyes grew large with surprise and puzzlement. It was very strange that anyone would even note that he had not spoken or taken notice of them at all, aside from Cosette. Of course, perhaps he should have expected it; Eponine did make her feelings for him particularly clear.

But he simply could not imagine anyone else wanting him. He began fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, tugging at it nervously as if hiding scars that were visible only to him. Slowly, he said, "But we all are unhappy here, in a sense."

The only happiness he could find was with Cosette, and even then there was always the lingering shadow of fear for her safety, and the longing that there must be a better life for her, for them. A place where they can be free of the Capitol and the constant reminder of death.

"Yeah..." Eponine trailed off miserably. Marius was right, of course, that everybody was unhappy in this place. Everyone was. But why couldn't he see what was in front of him? Why couldn't he see her slowly breaking inside? Did he not notice how she shook now, how her body trembled nearly all the time? Did he not see her eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with red? Did he not notice the greyish pallor of her skin, and the burn down her back and how her hair had been shorn away? Had he not noticed that Harley had dressed her up and paraded her around?

Marius truly didn't care for her, did he? Truly, truly did not care.

Eponine turned away, so that she could hide her face. What good now was crying in front of him? He wouldn't care. bastard.

"My... my Pa's here, you know? Did you know he's staying next door - the whole family, Azelma and Gavroche as well, all in my room. It's like Paris again, no?" Her voice was definitely a little bit unsteady.

"Ah... I see." Marius was grateful Eponine could not see him twitch at the mention of Thenardier. Despite his knowledge of the Thenardier's questionable dealings, there still remained the fact that he owed his father's life to the man.

He moreover felt responsible for Gavroche's death. He had made an attempt to keep the boy away from the barricades, and that had failed. And Azelma... He did not know much about her, but he pitied her, as well. The thoughts he held were loud and troubled and there were no words to express them.

So he remained silent for a moment, before saying, out of trained politeness, "And how are they faring?"

She snorted. "Gavroche has ran. Azelma chews with her mouth open and stares in wonder at everything. And my Pa has taken my bed and sold my things, until I have left a dress and a wig to cover my baldness. Men do not like bald girls , no?" She spat the words at him, her voice unsteady. Had he not noticed how quiet and subdued she had become? Did he not hear the shouting matches between father and daughter? He would not see the bruises from him.

"He is quite rich now."

Marius tensed. He should have expected it, he supposed, of Thenardier, from what he had witnessed of him back in Paris. However, there was still a part of him that felt disappointed. Perhaps at the back of his mind, he had wished his father's savior to somehow change in this place.

Eponine's distress he noted, but his own disquietude quickly overtook it. For a moment he was torn between keeping silent because of his father's debt and speaking his mind as a betrayed grandson.

And then he recalled his grandfather's display of arrogance when he asked for permission to marry Cosette, and he spat out, "You need not allow him to control you."

"Is that what you think happens? That I let him control me?"

She was on her feet in a flash, coming right round the sofa to advance on Marius. There was anger, disappointment, in her eyes. How could he believe that she just stood by and let it happen?

She shook her head. "Don't you dare, Monsieur." She spat the title at him. "You are ignorant - GOD! I knew it, but I loved it. I loved that you knew nothing of how my life is. But you MUST know - God, how can you live next to us for so long and not hear him with his knife, or the thump of my head on the wall or Azelma's through the window? Would you bow down if you were beaten until you gave in?"

It was time Marius learned something of the world, and even taking Eponine's account as being exaggerated a bit, it still painted a pretty bleak picture.

A frown formed on Marius's face. He held his ground, his brows drawing together as he spoke. "Do not believe that it is no different here. You have survived on your own without him, in this place."

Although, he thought to himself, perhaps it was not that simple. For instance, even with the knowledge that his grandfather had disapproved of his marriage with Cosette, he found himself often fearing what the Capitol may do to him. Furthermore, a small part of him still wished for his approval, perhaps, that part holding the memory of the sad little boy who never felt beloved.

Was Eponine the same? He could not claim that he knew, but he was sorry for her.

"I know I can." She spat at Marius. "Oh, God. I have survived through more than you or that horrid Cosette or any of those stupid men from Paris that you know - God, not an of them know what they really speak of. And why should you? You're all STUPID."

She meant ignorant, but it wasn't a word she was particularly familiar with. She balled her hands into fists, and raised them against him, as if she were going to hit him.

"I tell you, it is different when he is here. I can look after myself - but he - EURGH, but how can I explain it to one so stupid? To be sucked - it is as if a river is taking me and I am looking in and looking in and then it pulls you under and - gone. Just so, except my Pa is like the weeds on the bottom, tugging your foot so you fall first. God, you are stupid. How can I make you understand?"

And for the first time, Eponine didn't look at Marius with complete admiration and she didn't speak with a hint of longing and she didn't put her hands down. Instead, she groaned her frustration and stamped her foot on the floor. At this moment, she resented him. She resented that Marius couldn't understand the underworld. She hated him for blaming it on her. She hated him.

An offended, angry frown formed on his face at that, not only because of Eponine's crude language but because of the harsh accusations she had hurled at both him and his friends. Yet even that he could excuse because she is quick to offend, Ian had told him so, and he had to remind himself of it constantly.

But to accuse Cosette of horridness, when she was the purest of them all, when she was the only light in this abominable world that brought out the darkness in everyone save for her. In this cruel, heartless world, she was the only good that was left.

He strode forward and grabbed Eponine by the arm. "Do not call her horrid." He shook her, involuntarily, his grip tightening just a fraction. "Do not as much as speak the smallest ill of her, ever again."

"Or WHAT, Monsieur? Huh? What shall you do?" She shook her head, absolutely furious. "Will you kill me? Will you rip my heart from my lungs and stamp on it? PAH!" She spat as hard as she could, straight at Marius.

"Of all that I tell you as well, you are worried about what I say of that BRAT? I could tell you I am beaten and threatened and all the rest of it - oh GOD! And you worry that I hurt her feelings? I could be found dead in the street and you should worry that Cosette be upset. You are HORRID! Horrid, I tell you! Now stop shaking me, Sir. I am a lady too, you know? I am just the same as Cosette."

She tried to twist from his grip.

Marius instinctively turned his head to one side, but the spit still managed to hit him square in the cheek. He let out a sound of disgust and released her, the hand that gripped her reaching into the pockets of his tailored pants for a handkerchief. He whirled his back to her and wiped the spit off his cheek as he paced a few steps away. God, never had he been so insulted as he was this moment!

He gritted his teeth and tried to collect himself, tell himself that it was improper to simply walk away, or retort with equal venom. His eyes locked at the ceiling as if he was expecting a rain of words to shower upon him the right things to say.

But the only clear thought in his mind was, You will never be the same as Cosette.

After several seconds of quiet, however, the pity he held for her had been reawakened because of that very comparison to Cosette. Eponine had lived a harder life than her, most certainly. And yet there was little need to insult his wife so.

He sighed in defeat. "I do not know what else to tell you, Eponine." The irritation was still present in his voice, although it also held a measured steadiness. "I'm afraid our attempts at conversation never fare well."

Edited 2014-06-08 08:50 (UTC)

Eponine hugged her arms tight about her waist as soon as Marius let go of her. She took a step backwards instinctively, putting distance between herself and Marius, just in case he was going to hit her. She had never seen him look so angry - no furious - and it would have upset her on any other day. But today - no - there was fury in her own eyes as well.

She laughed raucously at his assertion, but her laugh was hard, bitter. "No, Monsieur. Your head is so far up Cosette's arse that your ears are clouded to my words. There is no conversation to be had with such a man as you. Not from the likes of me. Why should you listen to a gat when you have the bitch?'

Later, she'd be mortified by her words, and replay them over and over in her head. But now, in the heat of the moment, her cheeks blazed red and she spat her hurt at Marius, goading him into reacting, longing to at least demand a reaction from him.

Marius still had his back turned to her, and was oddly enough able to remain composure almost throughout her rant. Almost. It was easy enough to ignore the insults thrown at him; it was not the first time someone had expressed contempt for him—he had known what it felt his entire life—and it would certainly not be the last. But the moment she referred to Cosette in a word so cruel, so horrific, his shoulders tensed and his hands curled into fists.

It took all his strength and will not to stride towards her and slap her—and oh God did he want to. Instead, he forced his trembling fists to remain at his sides, balled up so tightly that his knuckles grew white.

After several seconds, he took a deep breath and said, in a voice that shook at the end, "We are done here." He paused again. He wanted to cast her a hard glance over his shoulder but he was afraid of what he might do if he looked at her. So instead, he continued with a levelled, "Goodbye, Eponine."

And with that, he strode towards the elevator, pressing its button perhaps a little too hard, wishing that he was anywhere else but near her.

wow this is megalate i'm sorry

Cosette and Gillenormand

Enjolras

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Eponine

Re: Eponine

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