Petal 04 -- Open to Action

[shylyintrepid]

[The IM opens on a Jehan out by the bonfire]

Ah, with everything that's happening to everyone, I thought it might be nice to make something comforting? So I've made a lot of tea and some baked apples, if anyone wants some. I'll be out here or on my cabin's porch.

Comments

[shylyintrepid]

Enjolras?

[Jehan comes down off the porch and stands in front of his friend]

Was it your maman?

[weneedasign]

[He shakes his head, almost laughing because gods, he's not sure what he would have done.

Licking his lips he keeps his eyes on the ground, catching himself from saying it was his Père.]

Lamarque.

[shylyintrepid]

...oh, no.

[Jehan promptly pulls Enjolras into a tight hug]

I am so, so sorry. The Red Room?

[weneedasign]

[The hug was expected, but still makes him go rigid.]

No, no um, he was sick. I didn't know, he didn't say what but it just- I guess-

[It's strange for Enjolras to be able to form coherent sentences, and yet that's what's happening right now.

And it hurts to speak, hurts to think really and he ends up just dropping his forehead against his friends shoulder.]

[shylyintrepid]

[Jehan lets him babble before giving up. When Enjolras drops his head on Jehan's shoulder, the poet just holds him tighter]

You should sit, oui? Come on, the steps are right there.

[weneedasign]

[There's a small nod as they move to sit on the steps, Enjolras keeping his head hung while his shoulders curl forward.]

I didn't know. I didn't, but I should've. I should have realized.

[shylyintrepid]

No, Enjolras, no. You couldn't have known--he was in France! And he wouldn't have wanted to worry you anyway. I doubt he thought it was all that important.

[Jehan sits Enjolras down and wraps his arm around the other's shoulder.]

[weneedasign]

[He tenses under the contact for a moment, but soon relaxes. It's taking every ounce of willpower not to hug his knees.]

I should've known. I should've been able to figure out something was wrong!

[shylyintrepid]

And done what? You don't have Apollo's healing, do you? And if you did, how could you have gotten to France?

[weneedasign]

I would have thought of something!

[He snaps, voice raising. He doesn't mean to shout, especially at Jehan but he can't help it.]

[shylyintrepid]

[Jehan flinches but doesn't move away]

Enjorlas--it is not your fault.

[weneedasign]

[There's a part of him that knows it isn't his fault.

But the voice telling him that he should have done something is louder. He's a son of Apollo for gods sake. The god of healing and Enjolras can't even heal a cut!

He's about to say something but a sob chokes him. Almost immediately he covers his mouth, hanging his head in a futile attempt to hide his tears.]

[shylyintrepid]

[Jehan promptly pulls Enjolras into a tight hug]

You can cry, mon ami. No one--absolutely no one--will judge you.

[weneedasign]

[He shakes his head, stubbornly.]

No. I-I'm not allowed to cry.

[Even though he is. Enjolras has never felt so weak and useless before.]

[shylyintrepid]

Yes you are. You're human, non? Humans cry. Elephants mourn, whales cry, it's natural, Enjolras. Crying is part of being alive.

[weneedasign]

[All he can do is shake his head, covering his eyes, shoulders hitching.

It's a long moment before he can choke out a broken:]

Why?

[shylyintrepid]

Because the Fates are old hags. Because he was sick. Because you're supposed to use his death to become a great leader.

[He kisses Enjolras's temple]

I don't know, Enjolras. I wish I did.