makeflowersgrow | IC Contact post

[That Marius has figured out how to use this is well; indeed, this is more than he should like to be using it at all. He feels as if covered in a thick dirt, wrung around his soul, to be calling Eponine like this, in need of more favours and without the knowledge of his Cosette.

But he owes Javert deeply, and he must do as asked for the man who helped rescue him.]

Eponine-? Hello?

Can you hear me?

Monsieur Marius?

[She's on her Dreamberry immediately. Her tone is sunny, hopeful.[

Monsieur? You wish to speak to me? What is it you want? How lovely that you call me. Are you well? You look well!

[He called her Eponine because it seemed... somehow unfit, to say Mademoiselle.

Still should she like it, that was fine as it was. He said 'Eponine' as he said 'Courfeyrac'; barely registering that her gender could make such a difference in the perception of it, as he barely registered her as a woman. She was feeble, but worldly. She gave him a case of great sadness, but also anxiety.

He should like to end the conversation quickly, but was glad for her chipper tone, and that he did not interrupt.]

I-- yes, I am well. And you?

[Manners, Marius. He nearly rushed headlong into his question, but being around Cosette more regularly had tempered him. Besides which, as he owed a debt to this one too, caution might be advisable, and gentleness even moreso.]

You ask how I am - I like that! And I am well indeed, Sir. You see my new hat?

[She holds up a blue velvet bonnet, complete with huge ribbons to tie under her chin.]

monsieur Tarrant made it for me - and he gave me a bed in his cottage. And look - Sir. I have a new dress. See? And silk stockings - such luxury! And a corset - I have two now!"

[She's plainly excited about her new clothes; she's so eager to show them off, to show how much of a lady she is.]

so I have been well, Sir, as you have - and I have become a lady! A lady fit to be seen with a gentleman like you.

Yes, I see it.

[He confirmed, offhandedly thinking perhaps she wondered at the clarity of her screen. That she might be showing off or thinking herself very fashionable simply did not occur to him, as he was preoccupied with moving her to the task at hand without... without being so outright with it, and possibly quite offensive. (Besides which, the gaudy colour of it all paled in comparison to Cosette's own delicate fashions, which brought out every lovely aspect of herself and showed such grand and modest taste that it seemed to him women's clothes were made solely for her benefit, and everyone else lacked.)

Still, listening to her ramble about her clothing was indeed a test of his patience and he gave her a bewildered sort of stare for only a moment when she noted that she was rooming with a man.

Well, that did settle it then. The strange insistances that she might have formed an attachement to him were as false as he dared to suspect them...

Even if her statement that she was fit to be seen with him sent a sort of chill up his neck and furrowed his brow for a moment.]

Eponine, I must ask a question of you. You will hear it, won't you?

Don't you like - oh. Never mind.

[She swallows back her disappointment. Why could he not just tell her that she was beautiful? Or even, if that was too big a lie, that her clothes at least were pretty. Compared to Cosette's, Eponine's clothes were bright - bright red dress, pink stockings, corsets in deep green and royal blue, all of her favourite colours shoved haphazardly together. Compared to... to Cosette - well, they had nothing of the elegance that hers did. But still, she brightens considerably when he asks her to listen.]

Monsieur - of course I will listen to you - yes, of course! Tell me what you must - I will do as you wish.

[He is glad to 'never mind' it, and does so at once.

Clearing his throat and glancing down, looking every bit as awkward as he was surely feeling, he pressed on--]

You have my gratitude, then.

I was-- I had been in the presence of an Inspector, by the name of Javert. And I have seen that, in his illness, he had dropped his device. Were that... [A pause, seemingly searching and failing for words. He no more wished to accuse than he wanted to be dishonest by pretending he had not heard the accusation already.] ...it were given to me to be returned, to him. [He settles on, after a length.]

Were that to happen, I would be grateful. Eponine, had you happened to see it?

[So that was it. Javert had found the device missing. He had suspected Eponine. And he had sent Marius to get it back. Any trace of a smile that had lingered on her face was gone now, and Eponine looked old. Old and tired.]

He thinks I have it?

[Her voice is flat, resigned.]

of course... But... But you believe him? You believe the Inspector over me?

[She closes her eyes. What should she do? She had never imagined her Marius betraying her in such a way.]

[Again, finding himself unable to quite lie, be it for the sake of preservation of feelings or his own gain or otherwise, some colour hastens onto Marius' face.]

He knows not, to be sure... he was sick with fever, at the time of its being lost.

But that he thinks so is certain.

[Still, while it was likely, her having it did not perhaps mean she'd stolen it. Especially if she might be willing enough to return it.]

I know not what to believe, only that it ought to be returned.

[He should make a habit of it himself, having the Inspector's pistols still.]

[She opens her eyes and shakes her head.]

I do not have it, Monsieur. Though what is the use in me telling you that? It is true - but he will not believe me. So it does not matter, really, what I say, does it?

[She shrugs. She can at least honestly say that the device is not in her possession. Now, anyway. But it distresses her that Marius thinks her capable of such a crime.]

monsieur? Do you... Come. Come and look. He will have to believe me then. And perhaps... Whilst you're here... We can have tea. Have you tried it? Monsieur Tarrant showed it to me - it is good. It is filling.

...If you say it is so, then it is so.

[Perhaps it is unwise, but he does trust her. And accordingly, looks crestfallen. He's failed at the one thing the man who helped to save him saw it fit he do.

He would... merely have to keep looking for it, then. He had free nights in which to search and question; he would go forth while Cosette slept.

Glancing back at Eponine, wearing every obvious mark of disappointment, he shook his head faintly, needing to force himself to focus on her words now. At least he should not owe her more favours, in this case. Although, he might own her them in the stead of her odious father, on behalf of his... and on behalf of Cosette.

Such burdens seemed insurmountable at times, but he could not abandon them.]

I will say that you have told me so, and that I trust it is so, that he might also. I will continue searching.

[As for tea...]

I've no need to search your apartment. [His brow furrows, a bit shocked by such a thing; he himself was no officer, and snooping among a woman's things was a hugely immodest prospect to him.] I have had tea before, yes.

[It seems a bizarre question to him-- but ah. Poor dove. Poverty had its way, and he felt a shock of pity at her gruesomeness. The luxury of warm water and herbs... but the world could be cruel and kind, couldn't it?]

Marius -

[She should tell him. She should confess. But - but he'd hate her. He'd hate what she had done. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't bear to have him turn his back on her.]

He won't believe it. He won't believe you. Me. He believes only that I am a thief, that I am bad. I have no grace. I am ugly and a thief and rubbish for the gutter.

[She shrugs] What is to be done - only, tell me - where is he? The inspector? Why does he send you to ask me when he has no qualms about questioning me himself? He has taken my dresses and my book once - so why does he send you now?

[She says nothing about the tea. Just another disappointment. Just another flip of her stomach as she is rejected once more.]

[He thought it was a bit forward of her to use his name only; but perhaps she had found his questions rude, and now was seeking to be rude in return.

His expression pinched slightly, but at her own questions, he grew bold. Squaring his shoulders just so, he spoke in a tone that was decisive.]

He ails still, and resides at the hospital in recovery. He thought that should you know of its whereabouts, you should like it better if I were to come and collect it from you, as we were neighbors in the past.

[Javert's actual reasoning was too absurd for him to fully comprehend. He knew, perhaps, in the haze of his memory that Eponine had chided him about love in the moments of her dying... but this all seemed so faraway, so surreal to Marius, that having her here and alive only made that tragic end seem even more a fiction, even more mysterious and best left forgotten.

Still...]

I owe the Inspector in part that I am still alive and breathing. That he should make a request of me is natural, and I must not be so ungrateful as to refuse it. If you know not of it, then very well. For having listened to my question, thank you.

[Her shoulders, in turn, sag. Her face softens.]

You are so good, Marius. Monsieur. Always so good.Of course you could not refuse him.

[She closes her eyes again, just for a second, just briefly]

I don't have it. It is not here, I can promise you. But... won't you come for tea? Won't you see my lodgings? I have a cottage - and cake and -

[And what is the point? He could have said, 'you're not rubbish, Eponine'. 'You don't belong in the gutter, Eponine.' 'You have grace, you have beauty. Do not listen to Javert.'

But he hadn't breathed a word of it. She turns her head slightly away from the camera, and swallows yet another lump in her throat.]

[He doesn't think himself overly good as a rule. But certainly not so because he was seeking to repay what surely was owed to a man who was also his senior.

That Eponine should look so melancholy took him aback again, and he could not guess the reason for it. He had been clear that he intended no slight to her, despite ample evidence that she was from a family of criminal proceedings.

For that self-same reason, and her excessive poverty at the Gorbeau House, he could not fathom taking tea and cakes from her. It seemed outlandish at very best, even if their locale and circumstance was much adjusted now. Besides which--]

It should not be very proper, no. To dine alone with a woman of acquaintance.

Acquaintance? But - we are friends, aren't we? Friends... no. No, you are right, Sir. It is not fitting for a gentleman like you to be friends with a woman such as I.

[She laughs, high pitched and bitter]

Just think, the Baron and the gat - yes, I know who you are, Sir. But it is proper for you dine with that girl. That Cosette - though you know her origins are as bad as mine.

[She shrugs. It's a harsh jibe, and it will hurt her for a long time because she knows it will hurt Marius too. But at the same time, it felt good to say it. Perhaps it WOULD make him look at her, consider her, when he realises that she and Cosette are the same.]

['Of acquaintance', he had thought to be a kindness. He should never pretend not to know her name or her face, and he should offer her help, where he was capable of it. But friend? Friends with a woman? Was such a thing even possible? His only attachment to the gender in general was through Cosette; the rest, he felt in a way, laughed at him and thought him very dull or stupid. He in return found them strange and dim by comparison to his Cosette. There were the women of family, who he had no opinion on, but was good to. The older ladies, who were not so much women in his mind, but matrons. The young ones, who were but girls and to whom he felt the protective fondness of an adult, perhaps. But 'women' as they were, young and unmarried and fancily-dressed... such apparitions almost frightened him, at times. He should not wish to talk to them on their own, for fear of being found wanting, or for the worse fear of wounding Cosette.

Eponine, as it were, was not so much one such woman. She looked older beyond her years and she had marks of poverty so severe that she had the full attention of Marius' pity, without awakening the sensations that speaking with her might be out of line with modesty, owing to her age and her lack of male attachment.

However, trips to her home, when she had new dresses and bonnets, for tea... these were markings of ladies, the ladies that Marius dutifully avoided. Even he knew that such a thing was impossible, even with such a girl as this. It would be improper.

...Still.

Still, her words hit him as truly and deeply as she had meant for them too, as truly and deeply as his own lack of words had unintentionally hit her. That he is wounded shows plainly. He paled mildly, eyes going a bit wider and lips parting, his brow showing a sort of confusion over so cruel a comment.

The hurt remains on his face, but not in his eyes, whose gaze slowly hardened with anger.

His voice, when he found the will to speak, carried the marks of both.]

You had made a promise to me not to bring such a matter up, against my Cosette. You had given me your word.

[He reminded, a little appalled.]

This meanness is unwarranted. I will not have another word of it, do you hear me? Not another sound of it. [Snapped, raising his voice just barely by the end, exceedingly ruffled by the jab.]

I promised I would tell nobody else.

[His tone, rather than his words hit her, and it hit hard. He was cross, furious - and he was ordering her - just as he had that time in the fields, when he had taken her shoulders and had shaken her so hard she had laughed.

She did not feel like laughing just then.

This was serious - serious enough that he had almost shouted at her.]

You're cross with me, Sir.

[Her voice, on the contrary, is soft. She attempts to make it soothing, but her guttural tones do not allow for much softness to her tone.]

Well... Sir. We are not so different... we are not so different, her and me.

Cosette-- Cosette would never say a mean word against you. You were unkind to her, and your unkindness now extends to us both.

But she should never have insulted you, it is so.

There is your difference.

[He scolded, gaze strong.

Through insulting Cosette, she insulted him too, and his every happiness. Over what? An item lost?

It was an excessive cruelty!]

Edited 2013-06-01 00:54 (UTC)

No! That's not -

[ That wasn't what she'd meant. She'd meant their origins, their backgrounds. and now he was scolding again. She takes a deep breath, trying to control herself, to prevent the tears, to stop herself from saying something else she'd regret.]

Cosette is perfect, Sir.

[Her tone dripped with bitterness, sarcasm. God, Cosette. It should be HER!]

[He stared a moment, lips pursed just lightly, before he shook his head.]

...Good day.

[And then hung up. What else ought he to do? He felt enraged on the behalf of his beloved and if Eponine would only sling arrows at them both, fiery insults, then what point was there in communication?

Thenardier or not, he would not stand for it.]

[And for a long, long time, she stares at her blank dreamberry. Her mind is a whirlwind, but the predominant anchor of it all, the knowledge in the eye of the storm - Marius hates her. Marius hates her and it is her fault.

A long, long time after he has put down the video call on her, he'll get a text through. Just one word, out of all those she wishes she could say to him.]

SORRY

[He read the message as it came, but could fathom no reply.

He would see to his duty that the girl remained well, but otherwise, a soul so uncouth who would seek to torment an angel was not a welcome phantom. His and Cosette's life would be without shadows, he was determined. All lights.

He did not return her message.]

The dreamberry may have returned, Jondrette, but this doesn't mean you are cleared. I know full well that you were the one to steal it and use the money it had. You may be able to get others to believe you with your little stories, but they certainly do not fool me. Let this be your final warning. The next time we meet you will be behind bars.

[The voice makes her freeze. And for a long time she sits on her bed, just staring at her dreamberry. But after a long, long moment, she has steadied herself to answer,]

You have no proof I took it. You cannot prove it - it is... good you found it, though, Monsieur. Only - you must work to put money on it. You have not worked; there is no money. You cannot put me in jail. Nobody will believe you.

--And how would you know there isn't any money on there? Is it because you spent it?

[He wasn't going to point out that money had returned to the device. From what had been explained simply sleeping and dreaming had earned them income. They didn't necessarily have to work.]

NO! Because you said that I had taken it - and I know you have no job - and we both know, Sir, that money is not given for nothing. So how would you have anything? You have lazed in the school instead of working. That is how I know.

[She actually feels quite smug. He cannot find any holes in that argument, surely.]

There was money on the device that is provided to us upon arrival. It is enough to get us started. I can easily visit various shops and inquire with in. The proof isn't too hard to gather.

[Being lazy was the last thing to call him. If he had his way he would have been working. She was really beginning to press his buttons. It also meant she was panicking.]

[busted. Busted in the worst possible way. By the worst possible person.]

So now what, Inspector? What am I to do now, when you are so convinced?

[He wanted to arrest her right there on the spot, but saddly he could not. He still wasn't part of the police force and he didn't have the proof at hand to back up his theory. He wasn't going to tell her this. He had to make sure that she would still fear and take him seriously instead of the mockery she tried to pull a while back.]

Finally giving up on your stories?

[She closes her eyes, trying to think. What to do, what to do? She is so stuck. She's going to jail. She's not a lady. She's a thief. And she has no answer for Javert. So she tries to wind him up instead.]

You can't arrest me. You're nothing here. You are less than me, for I am a baker now. That is not a story. I have only ever told the truth.

I'll be sure to find you at this bakery of yours, Jondrette. You'll get to have the humilation of being arrested at the ony place that hired you. Who will hire you afterward should you get out?

[There's another long silence. Possibly the sound of a stifled sob. But then - ]

You may try, Monsieur. I knew it though, always - you do not want me to be a lady. Can you not allow me to be a lady?

Enjoy the little time you have left of your freedom....

[He then ends his feed.]

Edited 2013-06-10 00:30 (UTC)

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