Freedom is within you

[libertin]

Who| Courfeyrac & Open
What| Post-Arena life adjustments and such. Basically, Max & Cindy are both gone and his world is a bit more dim.
Where| Training room, or elsewhere if you prefer.
When| Forwarded to after Max is killed by Kevin in the Arena, but before she's come back.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of character death? Tag in whatever format you like, just specify location!

Courfeyrac felt numb. Every ounce of emotion had been drained from him, every hope was gone. He'd been almost glued to the television once it got down to the final two. Max and Kevin. Vengeance would be hers and she would win and then he could go back into the Arena knowing that she was safe at least. But fate had other ideas, and as he watched the screen helplessly, his sister was turned to a bloody, lifeless mess.

It was enough to make him sick. It was enough to drain him of every human feeling, and once he felt empty, he was quickly overcome by a second wind of unstoppable rage.

He stalked out of the common area of the District 11 suite and toward his own room, literally knocking things over in his fury as he stormed passed. Furniture was kicked over, mahogany table flipped. If there had been china or glass around, he'd have thrown it to the ground. All he could see when he closed his eyes was her body, bloodied and mangled, with Kevin looming over her like a giant. Courfeyrac hadn't been so pissed off in a long time.

But that might've been it. It could have ended there. A day or two of rage over the injustice of watching Max die and he would have gotten over it. Except the hours continued to tick by and she had yet to return. He'd expected that she would come running to him, or bound up to him and scold him for fretting, at the very least. Instead, she was gone. Vanished. No more. Just like Cinderella.

He was so close to becoming morose over it all. That happy, jovial gent was ready to retire for good and let the sullen, mournful brat replace him forever. He didn't care about anything anymore. He had nothing left. His lover was gone. His language was gone. And now, the one bright spot that he'd cherished had disappeared too. Of course, there were friends and other company, but what good were they when he'd left his dear little Max all alone to die?

He couldn't stand the guilt. So instead, he took to beating the crap out of the available training dummies. He might not get the chance to kill Kevin with his bare hands, but he'd avenge his Max somehow.

Comments

[libertin]

There was a spark of something fresh and excited on Courfeyrac's face. A recognition, perhaps, that this was a problem to which he held the solution.

"Then allow me to rectify this on your behalf. I have friends. I shall make the necessary introductions."

[philosophe]

"Please do!" There was a warm smile in answer. "You have always been much better at that sort of thing than I."

[libertin]

It was true, wasn't it. He'd always had an ease about him which his friends seemed to somehow lack. He'd never put much thought into it, accepting them as they were, but it was there all the same.

"Ah, excellent. And perhaps we will even find you a mistress while we are at it." Courfeyrac said with a twinkle in his eye.

[philosophe]

That was generally because Combeferre tended to retreat into his own head, or his books, or whatever thoughts he might be having. Once he knew someone well, he would warm to them, but early days of friendships were not the easiest to get through. (People usually ended up being put off by his odder tendencies, unless they somehow found them charming, as his friends seemed to.)

"Perhaps," he allowed, with a nod and a small lipquirk. "I would say that we've more important things to concentrate on, but --" There was a shrug. "In this place, there are so many things to think of, aside from the cause."

[libertin]

"If Enjolras found time to pursue a maiden, then it would behoove us to fall in line, no?" Courfeyrac gave a wink, though he quite agreed with Combeferre. There were more important matters than girls, even if he sometimes forgot as much himself.

[philosophe]

"Well, I suppose. It may also add some -- I don't know. Recognition, I suppose, is the word I'm looking for." Recognition that he didn't really want or need, but even so. It was still a competition, he supposed.

"It may end up doing some good. Or at least find us some useful allies."

[libertin]

Recognition would be good, Courfeyrac could concede as much. His own star had only taken rise when he'd stripped down to nearly nothing and publicly promised Cinderella he'd give her the night of her life. Combeferre might have a tougher time with matters such as that one, but it would be worth a shot.

"Leave it to me, my friend. Your success will come yet. Just you wait."

[philosophe]

More than likely. He was never one for grand gestures such as that, but perhaps Courfeyrac could give him some pointers. It certainly couldn't hurt, at any rate.

"I suppose," he replied, with a bit of a wry lipquirk. "I do not know if I could count it as a success, considering the situation -- but I have all faith in you, my dear."

[libertin]

"Very good." Courfeyrac said cheekily. "Now, what sort person might you want to ally with, hm? Ladies? Gentlemen? Those strange fellows who wander around dressed as girls?"

[philosophe]

"I, ah..." He started, cheeks going slightly pink. Of course he knew that such things were common, especially here, but it was still somewhat awkward to talk about.

"Well. Ladies or gentlemen, I suppose, I've no real preference."

[libertin]

He gave a bright smile, teasing but playful, then looped his arm around Combeferre. "That certainly broadens our prospects. Let us see. There are such fine individuals around this place. Perhaps we should start with the ones on our floor."

He considered then how sad it was to have lost both Max and Cindy, both of whom lived in the District 11 suites too. Perhaps that was a bit too close to home. Perhaps it would be best to look elsewhere too.

"Tell me, Combeferre. What... attributes would you find most pleasant in an ally?"

[philosophe]

".....Intelligence, certainly. I suppose shared interests would not hurt, either; but perhaps I am being too methodical about the whole thing." He returned the smile, slightly awkward, and then fell back into thought.

"It is not as though we can make a list and go about asking people their thoughts on Voltaire, after all. I doubt half the people here have even heard of him."

[libertin]

"Intelligence, yes. That is, of course, the paramount of qualifications." He rather liked intelligent women too, but would be the first to admit he was always initially drawn to ones who were fair of face. "And what of their beauty? Are you as Marius is? Do you wish a lover with bright eyes and a clear voice and skin as smooth as silk and as pale as alabaster? What of their hair? Do the dark haired, mysterious types compel you? Or have you a preference for the blondes? Or a redhead? An Irishperson maybe?"

[philosophe]

"Among other things." Combeferre is not so taken with beauty -- it is a pleasing benefit, when he cares to consider it; but someone that might share his interests, could perhaps be happy to be an equal with him, that is what he considers important.

"I -- cannot say that would not be pleasing," he continued with a slight grin. "But it is not the highest of my concerns, as we have said already. Marius does not need to fear for the safety of his mysterious young lady. As for hair -- well. Dark, or blonde as well, so long as they are agreeable people; that is what suits me."

[libertin]

This answer satisfied Courfeyrac and so he gave a nod. "Very good. I shall see what I can do to procure someone for you. I shall make all the necessary arrangements. You needn't worry over any of the details."

[philosophe]

"I am in your debt, my friend." He nodded in reply, moving to give Courfeyrac a familiar shoulder clasp. "Truly. If you should wish anything, you need only ask it."