[Enjolras is sensitive to the way he looks down while Grantaire looks up. He remedies it, and finds that kneeling beside the man places them more equally.
Still, there is a breath before he speaks. He has never reached this man before. All the arguments of Les Amis were not enough to sway the cynic from his drunken nothings- but that was before. He will essay it again.]
When I bared my breast to the National Guard I thought you long gone or well asleep. I expected there was nothing to keep you at the barricade; you had so little conviction that our purpose would drive you away. No- I must be honest, for brothers do not lie to each other. I did not think of you at that last moment. I thought only of my death, and I feared that it might bring no change. Perhaps Combeferre was more right than he knew, suggesting that society changes but slowly? I did not believe him then, I don't wish to believe him now. But! Then you were before me, the man I had so confidently declared incapable anything there offering to die at my side. [Enjolras presses his hand again, certain he has reached the man.] I am not reckless in thanking you for joining me then, for proving me wrong.
anne we're going to die from this thread aren't we
[ Whether Enjolras stands taller than him or kneels, Grantaire still gazes upon him with all the adoration of a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. What has he done to earn this sort of reverence from Enjolras? He isn’t Courfeyrac or Combeferre or Joly or Feuilly or any of the others. It’s true that he gave his life, but he didn’t fight as they did, and he didn’t die in the same manner.
He searches the other man’s face, smiling sadly. How can he possibly tell him the truth of the matter? ]
I know what it is you died for. You and our dear, valiant friends.
[ For all his drunkenness and skepticism, Grantaire knows his friends well. He knows their rhetoric, knows their views, knows what lit the fire of revolution in their hearts. None of it ever affected him. Enjolras’s hand pressing against his own serving as a painful reminder of just how parched his throat really is and just how easily this acceptance, this thing he’s wanted so badly, can be ripped away. ]
But I never felt the same contempt for the monarchy. I never partook in your revolution. Do you believe that you and I died for the same cause? It is imprudent to name me brother, and foolhardy to think yourself mistaken so quickly. Thus far, I have proven you wrong in only one endeavor. I am capable of dying.
[It takes long moments to understand what the dark haired man is saying. Is that the problem, he wonders, have they been speaking at cross-purposes all this time?
But no- it is familiar, when he finally hears it. The same lack of belief spoken- but now as a wall Grantaire seems to want to build between them. It silences Enjolras to hear it.
Softness does not come naturally to him. He is capable of it, when he recognises the need, but the instinct is to fight, to press on without surrender. Perhaps that is not what is needed now.]
You are capable of dying. You, capable of saying of saying "vive la revolution". Capable of standing at my side, pressing my hand, facing the National Guard with me. [Perhaps a soft voice will reach the man.] Capable of facing this new world with me.
[ When he sees what he thinks is understanding on the other man’s face, he expects to be turned away in an instant. Surely the entire thing will come as a massive disappointment, and surely Grantaire will come as the biggest disappointment of them all, but Enjolras only reiterates. Neither his words nor his tone are cruel.
This time, Grantaire is the one who falls silent, blinking in the artificial light, dumbfounded. When he finds his tongue again, his voice is soft with a different sort of disbelief; something more akin to awe, as though he’s just been handed the rarest and most precious thing anyone could possibly offer him. ]
[Grantaire did not believe in the revolution. He did not share their ideals- but he shared their deaths. It seems as though Enjolras is reaching him now, that he will accept the name 'brother'. He presses his hand again, still smiling.]
Many times. [There's no point lying. They both know how Enjolras has responded to the man's cynicism and uselessness in the past.] In this? The opposite.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
TAKE THAT
Still, there is a breath before he speaks. He has never reached this man before. All the arguments of Les Amis were not enough to sway the cynic from his drunken nothings- but that was before. He will essay it again.]
When I bared my breast to the National Guard I thought you long gone or well asleep. I expected there was nothing to keep you at the barricade; you had so little conviction that our purpose would drive you away. No- I must be honest, for brothers do not lie to each other. I did not think of you at that last moment. I thought only of my death, and I feared that it might bring no change. Perhaps Combeferre was more right than he knew, suggesting that society changes but slowly? I did not believe him then, I don't wish to believe him now. But! Then you were before me, the man I had so confidently declared incapable anything there offering to die at my side. [Enjolras presses his hand again, certain he has reached the man.] I am not reckless in thanking you for joining me then, for proving me wrong.
anne we're going to die from this thread aren't we
He searches the other man’s face, smiling sadly. How can he possibly tell him the truth of the matter? ]
I know what it is you died for. You and our dear, valiant friends.
[ For all his drunkenness and skepticism, Grantaire knows his friends well. He knows their rhetoric, knows their views, knows what lit the fire of revolution in their hearts. None of it ever affected him. Enjolras’s hand pressing against his own serving as a painful reminder of just how parched his throat really is and just how easily this acceptance, this thing he’s wanted so badly, can be ripped away. ]
But I never felt the same contempt for the monarchy. I never partook in your revolution. Do you believe that you and I died for the same cause? It is imprudent to name me brother, and foolhardy to think yourself mistaken so quickly. Thus far, I have proven you wrong in only one endeavor. I am capable of dying.
i am ready to die
But no- it is familiar, when he finally hears it. The same lack of belief spoken- but now as a wall Grantaire seems to want to build between them. It silences Enjolras to hear it.
Softness does not come naturally to him. He is capable of it, when he recognises the need, but the instinct is to fight, to press on without surrender. Perhaps that is not what is needed now.]
You are capable of dying. You, capable of saying of saying "vive la revolution". Capable of standing at my side, pressing my hand, facing the National Guard with me. [Perhaps a soft voice will reach the man.] Capable of facing this new world with me.
no subject
This time, Grantaire is the one who falls silent, blinking in the artificial light, dumbfounded. When he finds his tongue again, his voice is soft with a different sort of disbelief; something more akin to awe, as though he’s just been handed the rarest and most precious thing anyone could possibly offer him. ]
Have I not disappointed you?
no subject
Many times. [There's no point lying. They both know how Enjolras has responded to the man's cynicism and uselessness in the past.] In this? The opposite.