Eponine Thenardier (
makeflowersgrow) wrote in
thecapitol2013-02-26 12:13 am
Entry tags:
Closed
Who: Eponine and Wesker
What: A reunion on the roof of the training centre
When: Sometime at midnight, around a week after the Valentine's drugging.
Where: On the top of the training centre
Warnings: Some gentle manipulation for Miss Thenardier, methinks. 'Cheerful' reunions galore. Possible language?
It's late at night - midnight now, to be exact, and it's cool up on the roof of the training centre. But Eponine doesn't feel like going inside. Not yet. It might be chilly, but the stars, the big, full moon, are all so beautiful. Eponine feels her spirits raise even from just looking on them. It's been so long since she's seen them - the last time was in the arena, before her death...
Eponine shivers and sits down near the edge of the roof.She likes looking over, and watching the people below. Only, there are no people on the streets now. The whole city is quiet. It's just her and the stars. Just like in Paris.
Eponine lies back, looking up at the stars. Maybe she can just live up here from now on? Sleeping rough is nothing new to her, and it is certainly better than waiting for Javert to arrest her in her sleep. So she lies back, for once feeling perfectly secure and perfectly relaxed. After a few minutes, she begins to hum, and eventually to sing...
She sings nonsense, about lost loves and nightingales dying; it's an old French ditty she knows, full of crude words and images, but her high, pure voice somehow makes even the worst of the swearing sound relatively innocent. In the quiet of the night, her voice echoes and drifts out, perhaps attracting a surprise visitor...
What: A reunion on the roof of the training centre
When: Sometime at midnight, around a week after the Valentine's drugging.
Where: On the top of the training centre
Warnings: Some gentle manipulation for Miss Thenardier, methinks. 'Cheerful' reunions galore. Possible language?
It's late at night - midnight now, to be exact, and it's cool up on the roof of the training centre. But Eponine doesn't feel like going inside. Not yet. It might be chilly, but the stars, the big, full moon, are all so beautiful. Eponine feels her spirits raise even from just looking on them. It's been so long since she's seen them - the last time was in the arena, before her death...
Eponine shivers and sits down near the edge of the roof.She likes looking over, and watching the people below. Only, there are no people on the streets now. The whole city is quiet. It's just her and the stars. Just like in Paris.
Eponine lies back, looking up at the stars. Maybe she can just live up here from now on? Sleeping rough is nothing new to her, and it is certainly better than waiting for Javert to arrest her in her sleep. So she lies back, for once feeling perfectly secure and perfectly relaxed. After a few minutes, she begins to hum, and eventually to sing...
She sings nonsense, about lost loves and nightingales dying; it's an old French ditty she knows, full of crude words and images, but her high, pure voice somehow makes even the worst of the swearing sound relatively innocent. In the quiet of the night, her voice echoes and drifts out, perhaps attracting a surprise visitor...

no subject
no subject
Eponine found herself moving closer to him, though she didn't realise it, but soon her shoulder touched his arm, and he'd be able to feel her head nodding as she replied,
"If you want me to... only what shall I sing?"
no subject
He smiled again, the one corner of his mouth turning up handsomly, and stepped back, moving toward the nearby bench.
"Surprise me," he instructed as he sat, as regal and composed as if he were attending an opera. Not listening to a ragged, dirty girl atop a freezing rooftop.
no subject
So she turned her back again and closed her eyes. She was imagining - imagining her self back home, in the streets of Paris, by herself. That song that she always sung to herself as she wandered at night. The one that made her cry, every time.
Slowly, she began to sing.
By the end of the song, she had turned around, though she wasn't looking at Wesker. In fact, she had lost herself completely in her memories and her longing for Marius.
no subject
The words, combined with the passion in which she sang them, had an almost - religious fervor. For some, he might have assumed just that, but for her....
He recalled the recent holiday and the way she had begged for his favor. The favor of the man she had believed him to be.
That unknown Marius.
He turned the name over his mind thoughtfully, wondering what use it might be to him, even as he smiled and applauded her gently.
"You sell yourself far too short, dear heart."
no subject
"It was a song I sang at home sometimes. When my Papa didn't want me in the room and I had nowhere to go. I used to wander around Paris until I was so tired I could bear to lie in the ditch or the street. Did you really like it? I did not hurt your ears?"
no subject
no subject
"Could you really?"
She sidled over to Wesker, sitting down next to him. "I don't think I could sing all night. I don't know enough words!"
no subject
no subject
"I can try to prepare - I can read, you know? I can read and learn songs. I am cleverer than I look."
no subject