[CLOSED]

[saisamour]

WHO| Pontmercy pup and Trolljesus
WHAT| A wild night of drunkenness, ladies, and possibly Napoleon
WHERE| The Commons
WHEN| 1st December
WARNINGS| We don't know yet tbh


It is close to the midnight hour and Cosette had long since gone to bed, but after waking in a fit from another terrifying nightmare, Marius concludes that he would rather pass the rest of the evening awake, instead of having another troubled vision of Cosette suffering and dying in his arms, again and again, while he held her there helplessly, unable to do anything to save her.

So he heads to the Commons to idle the time away. It is a routine by now that he enters the room in as an unassuming way as possible, trying his hardest to remain invisible. He keeps to the corners and avoids even the Avoxes, although he does accept a wine glass from one when he sees there's no other escape—and besides, he does not want to appear so rude.

Eventually he settles in one of the luxurious leather sofas close to the edge of the room. He wishes there was a more simple, modest seat, really, but everything in this place seems to be built for glamour, so this will simply have to make do. He reaches out for a few magazines on the coffee table, thinking that perhaps some reading material will make for a good distraction. However, after leafing through several he eventually concludes that the gossip and fashion columns matched with large, colorful photographs are terribly frivolous, and in a random fit of impulsiveness, tosses one of them over his shoulder with a sense of righteous indignation.

Normally that would have been a rather dandy move, but Marius has never been a dandy, or any less clumsy, so the magazine might have been arching towards the direction of a certain troll. Sorry in advance.

Comments

[69problems]

"That last one was my third arena," the Signless says, because it's easier than trying to remember the exact methods humans use to measure time. "So a while, now. Long enough that all the novelty has worn off. You?"

He hasn't quite really sat down and thought about it before now. Exactly how long he's been here. How many times he's died (four!). And all he has to look forward to is more of the same. Ugh.

[saisamour]

Marius hums distantly, wondering if he too will last until the third arena, or how many arenas he must go through until he dies a permanent death. "The last has been my second." It's flat, devoid of hope or despair or any emotion at all.

But he cannot die, not yet. So he adds, "The first with my beloved," not for Signless benefit but for his own, to remind him of his reason for fighting. He will lead Cosette to victory, one day, and it is only then that he will allow himself to ponder his manner of dying once more.

The same Avox, seeing as Signless has quickly finished his drink, approaches them to collect the empty glass and offer Signless another one.

[69problems]

"Me too," he says as he takes the new drink from the Avox. "My first arena with my matesprit -- my beloved -- I mean." He wonders if asking Marius whether his was brought in as a punishment too is pushing things too far and decides that it probably is.

"What are they like?" he asks instead, because that's a safe question and because sometimes it's nice to be reminded that good things like love can exist in this place instead of just awful soul-crushing things all the way down.

[saisamour]

Unexpectedly, Marius feels a burgeoning sense of affinity towards Signless despite their otherwise vast differences. He knows how difficult it is, to have someone you love forced to be here—

And then there is the question. Immediately, Marius's thoughts turn to Cosette, and his entire being seems to illuminate. "Oh, she is the kindest, most beautiful lady I have had the honor to chance upon! She has hair that seems weaved from the rays of the sun itself; a smile that transports my soul into the palace of dreams; wide, blue eyes that when I look into, I see my universe, my infinity. She has a gentle heart moulded from the angels themselves. Do you know, monsieur, that she weeps in compassion for the pain of even the smallest insect? That she is incredibly fond of her garden, back in Paris, and it is a wild and untamed garden but it is bewitching like she is. She tells me that I am smart, that I am handsome and wonderful, and I do not think I am, but... but when she says it, she makes me believe."

He is wearing a silly, lovestruck little grin at this point, his eyes filled with daydreams fixed at a random spot over his companion's shoulder. "My love for her makes my spirit soar, and at the same time it plunges me into despair. For when she is not around it feels like my life is over, and yet when I feel empty I need only to think of her, and it's as if the world transforms into something a little more radiant. And I realize that of course, the world must be so, because as long as she exists in it even the night is ablaze with our love."

[69problems]

Wow.

That is quite possibly the most romantic thing the Signless has ever heard that isn't something his Disciple said to him. He'd expected a description, but nothing quite like that, and it honestly does shake him out of his mood a little just to hear it. It makes sense! He has his Disciple, he has Meulin, so why is he so unhappy? (Maybe it's because their relationship has seemed so oddly stilted since she arrived, but he can't blame her, really, she had just come to terms with his execution and now she has to get used to him being alive all over again. That must be the issue).

"That sounds beautiful," he says. "Really. If I were more of a believer in romantic serendipity I'd say you sound like a perfect example."

He leans back on the couch, taking another sip from the glass of soda.

"It's like that with my Disciple. She gave up a comfortable life and safety and status to live in danger with me because she believed, truly believed that things could be better if we fought together for it. If she believes so strongly then there's never any reason for me to doubt." Right? Right. And she still believes, even after he was executed, even after he failed. So why does he doubt?

"Trolls have a concept of romance based around four quadrants, around neatly compartmentalized notions of different types of relationships, and we've bypassed that entirely. She's everything, to me. It's..." Another sip. "It's hard to explain to a species where there's only one way to love someone. I don't know how she has the room in her bloodpusher for it all, sometimes. But she's always been like that, able to be so many different things depending on necessity. I've seen her kill a musclebeast with her bare claws to keep us safe and then turn around and paint a beautiful mural with its blood as though it were the most calm and contemplative thing in the world. That's what she does. She takes the violence inherent in the world around us and she bends it to her will and makes it something beautiful instead. She's better at what I was trying to do than I was, really."

[saisamour]

Marius was smiling, at first, listening with great attention and nodding as if in complete understanding of Signless's emotions. And then that smile waned, the longer he spoke of his dear beloved, and by the end of it the smile had dissipated completely, his eyes grown large with horror. This monsieur before him... He dared love such a savage woman?

But perhaps there was something salvageable out of all this. Marius willed his mind to ignore the violence, forced himself to focus on the romantic. The notion that she could turn into something beautiful, in concept, was almost magnificent...

Still, terror undoubtedly prevailed in his heart.

He sputtered before he managed to spit out, eyes round and face blanched and sinking a little into his chair, "K-Kill a beast with her bare claws, monsieur?!"

Should Cosette ever display such viciousness, Marius's own heart would shred into pieces!

[69problems]

Oh, dear. Signless often forgot that humans didn't exactly live the same way that trolls did -- when your entire life you're surrounded by death and violence, you forget that perhaps other people can find it disturbing rather than just an unfortunate reality.

"Where we're from, Alternia, is a very dangerous place. Oftentimes there's no other choice if you want to survive, especially when you live as we did, in the deserts. If it's not the musclebeasts it's the risen dead, or the occasional highblood patrol."

And you thought your life was difficult, Marius.

[saisamour]

The sudden and unexpected surge of unfamiliarity causes the creases in Marius's forehead to appear, and he displays a deep expression of utter, unmistakable confusion, perhaps even more than the usual bewildered look he often wears.

"I..." He blinks, pauses, tries again. "I apologize, but I do not understand these terms. Risen dead... Are they similar to Monsieur R? And what is a highblood patrol?"

Maybe focusing on those will take his mind off the unladylike behavior of Signless's beloved.

[69problems]

"Right, I apologize, I should have used less species-specific terms."

At least he wasn't trying to explain quadrants, or anything equally as baffling. Quadrants were strange enough sober.

"The deserts of Alternia are full of dead trolls, and during the day they travel in packs and attack anyone who runs across them. They're not like R, really, R is too..." What was the word? "Intelligent."

"Highblood patrols are like the groups of peacekeepers we have here. Which is good, until you realize that Alternian law and Alternian government are corrupt and broken systems."

[saisamour]

Marius cast his eyes back down at the table before him. R was rather intelligent, he thought, for the risen dead, although he did not know exactly what he expected of them in the first place.

But his mind quickly drifted to other thoughts. He recalled the Peacekeepers who unflinchingly held Ariadne when she was executed; the cruelty in the eyes of the one who delivered Marius's cuff, which he wore until after his voluntary participation in the underground battle; the men and women in immaculate white who were ever-present, ever-vigilant. They seemed to him almost like cold, avenging spirits who never rested.

He bit on his lower lip to prevent himself from recklessly commenting that Alternia seemed not unlike the Capitol. Still, his jaw hardened and his brows drew together, his gaze on the edge of the table hardening. His next words were chosen carefully, his voice even and steady—almost too consciously so, as if there were a lot more to his opinions that he was simply holding back. "It must be a cruel society, Alternia."