sirenspull_logs | A very French Invasion

Entry tags:

A very French Invasion - BACKDATED

WHO: Deadpool, Enjolras, Eponine, Grantaire
What: An invasion of HoA. Grantaire wants to see Enjolras (cue awkward reunions) and Eponine doesn't really know what she wants, but will find herself watching Deadpool.
When: 17th December -in the afternoon
Where: HoA mostly.
Warnings: Well, Enjolras is a slave, so slavery? Erm......... I don't THINK we need any more warnings... Stand by for updates if needed.

Eponine manages to get them all, doesn't she? Or at least it seems that way to her. Men. Men who want her to drop everything and lead them to houses to reunite with their true loves or fallen comrades. Men who don't seem to notice that they ask her to drop everything to do such a thing. Men who don't see how much it pains her to obey.

She doesn't have to do what Grantaire asks her to do. He's nothing. He means nothing to her, and Enjolras, without Marius close by, ceases to be important to Eponine too. Especially after his attitude towards her. And yet, when Grantaire asks her to take him to Enjolras, Eponine barely hesitates before consenting to lead the way.

She can barely understand why, but it's instinct. These men, they are friends with Marius, and she feels, somehow, by helping them, that she is helping Marius too. The Amis make her feel a part of something, accepted almost, instead of the beggar or the whore or the teenager goaded into working for free. They bring her closer to Marius, to the person she so desperately wants to be and the society she so desperately wants to be a part of. She wants their friendship though, their approval; even their conversations. Talking to such a good person is the highlight of her week. So she'll help them, even though she doesn't want to go anywhere near HoA. Even though she never wants to see Deadpool again... though she misses him. Love? No, it was never love. Eponine doesn't know love. Wouldn't know it.

She peels the potatoes quickly, chopping roughly, before setting them in a pan of water. Not bothering to clean up her peelings or put the scrubbing brushes away, Eponine hurries Grantaire back out of Hattie's, and together, they start the walk to HoA.

Away from the house, Eponine feels less confident and more awkward with Grantaire. She doesn't have the intellect to understand what he says, which makes her feel ignorant. She doesn't know what to say, what would be appropriate to say to such a man. She tries to pretend he is Marius that she can talk to, but that illusion only makes her more tongue tied. In the end, she trudges in silence, pondering how to explain her absence at work to M'sieur Gold.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I thought I might request to see the recent specter of Lamarque," he throws out absently, eye and mind on the door and what will be found within. None of this, none of this makes sense. Enjolras is held captive within that house, Enjolras who fought with such fury and knew with such passion... And will that Enjolras remain even under slavery? Grantaire cannot doubt this, but the question remains, the question haunts. Well. Soon enough, he will know.

After a moment, he looks at the girl again. "You've no wish to be reunited with your lost love? In any case, I thank you, Madame 'Ponine. You have done me a great service." Taking her hand, he kisses it lightly, a gesture with a touch of honesty. Then he is gone, moving toward the door.

And here it is. No more time for contemplation or anticipation (the doorbell throws him for a moment; it is an unusual sight, but ultimately not so far removed from what he has known, and its use is readily discerned). Grantaire straightens himself, breaths, and rings the doorbell.

Edited 2012-12-23 19:58 (UTC)

[Enjolras takes it upon himself to answer the knock at the door. He's a little distracted, having a law book in his hand and an apple in the other. He assumes it's someone who knows Deadpool, so he'll just let him in and get out of the way. His tone is both commanding and short.]

Inside. I don't think he...

[Then, he sees. He meets Grantaire's eyes and nearly chokes on a bite of apple. He looks oddly undignified for a moment. Quickly he rights himself, standing up straight and moving to close the door.

His only thought.

He can't.

He just can't. Not like this, not now.]

[Deadpool meanwhile has just been following an old strategy used by Kevin Ford, stress baking. He has been making use out of the kitchen frequently, and sending food to different places, keeping some of it here. Currently he is working on sugar cookies, because well its Christmas time, and why the hell not. Despite how he might be feeling on the inside, to the world around he seems pretty happy go lucky right now]

Who is at the door? If its Jenova Witnesses or whatever, tell em we ain't interested.

[After he waits a second and doesn't get a response, he heads over, still wearing an apron. He places his hand on the door and glances at Enjolras a second]

Uh, hi. Who the hell are you?

[He looks at the stranger curiously]

Quite the welcome.

But Enjolras is alive. Alive and here and--judging from the brief glimpse--reasonably well. Grantaire had experienced a leap of something (hope? not possible, no, but something...) upon seeing the familiar figure, muted somewhat by Enjolras's reaction. Of course it hurts, somewhere. But it's nothing new, and Grantaire notes the sting only in passing.

And whatever Enjolras might wish, Grantaire isn't about to be deterred by the door. He calls Enjolras's name and steps forward, thrusting a hand against the door, ready to throw himself in if need be. He doesn't make it that far, though; an odd figure steps into view and speaks, looming over Enjolras. This must be the man mentioned by Eponine. He bears a look of power and is strangely attired, to say the least. Grantaire doesn't know quite what to make of the full-body covering or the apron, and so simply allows it to be.

Something that he does know: This is the man who calls himself master to Enjolras. It won't help anything to begin railing here and now (and, after all, who is he to denounce the practices of a man who might be from any world at all?). Grantaire has to remind himself once, twice, again, lest he begin running his mouth. If he wants to speak with Enjolras (this is absurd), it is necessary to enter the house. Which means playing along with this man. Which means responding without anything that might easily be construed as mockery.

Fine. Grantaire removes his hand from the door, bowing slightly. Although he attempts to keep his focus on Deadpool, he continues to glance toward Enjolras, without blame and without plea. "I am Aleron Grantaire. And you, I take it, are Deadpool."

And perhaps he shouldn't, but he offers a bow toward Enjolras, as well. "Monsieur Enjolras. How pleasant to cross paths again."

Edited 2012-12-24 05:59 (UTC)

[Enjolras cannot meet grantaire's eyes. He just shakes his head and tries to push his way past deadpool.

Meeting the last person he'd want to be seen by in this situation is more than he can manage right now.

He'd hoped that whatever purgatory this was, grantaire would have been spared it. But alas that was not to be.

Retreat was never in his nature, but in this moment he could find no other option.]

Enjolras's indifference had been expected. His evasion now is more of a surprise. Now that Grantaire stands directly before him, how is it that Enjolras turns aside? Much might be made of this reaction, but Grantaire cannot settle on any certain answer, and so the question drifts; for the time being, Grantaire must focus on the situation at hand.

He moves to hold Enjolras back, but checks himself, managing even to refrain from speaking. All right. All right. If Enjolras wishes to flee, it is his right. And it is Grantaire's right to find him, just as it is Grantaire's right (and confirmed intention) to shove his way into the house if Enjolras or this Deadpool tries to force him out.

Collecting himself, he returns his focus to Deadpool, keeping track of Enjolras as best as he can.

Unsurprisingly, Grantaire feels that he could use another drink or four.

There was clearly something going on here. What exactly that was, well Deadpool certainly had no clue. He was well accustomed to not really getting everything that was going on though, so nothing out of the ordinary truly. Still it seemed as though the French were more and more in his life, and things were annoying and confusing. It was more then likely retribution from some capricious deity, although Loki had gone, it seemed as if his little inheritance had caused problems continuously. Typical Lokster behaviour really, create problem, bail and have someone else clean it up. If the kid ever came back, he'd have to beat him, that'd be pleasant, therapeutic even.

When he noticed the man starring at him, he kind of stood there and blinked for a second before replying.

"So... should you just sing me a musical number to catch me on whats going on, or what? Because I am pretty lost right now."

"It is simple: I am here to see" (don't say 'your servant' and don't say 'your slave,' though for a moment Grantaire is tempted) "Monsieur Enjolras. I will hazard to confess that we knew one another in a prior world--in passing, if you will--and that I, misguided brute as I am, wish to hear how this once and distant companion has fared."

If talking his way into the house doesn't work... Well, Grantaire will work that out as it comes. Just keep Enjolras in sight if possible, but more important still, keep the door open.

Edited 2012-12-26 18:51 (UTC)

[Enjolras spares Grantaire a look as he mentions "in passing." Surely it was more than passing. But, his eyes are hard.

Shoulder-checking Deadpool as he does so, he vanishes into the apartment.]

Edited 2012-12-26 23:35 (UTC)

And there he is, the man of stone and ice, the paradigm always unbending. Who can say what creeps into his stark-laid vision? Who can say what he may glimpse or misapprehend? The man both undisguised and unknown, though Grantaire can read the rebuff in his eyes. (If that is all. If that is all... And so it may be, but Grantaire continues to wonder.)

Grantaire doesn't respond, save with a flicker of expression that might indicate buried pain or a sardonic rejoinder. Miraculously, he keeps his mouth shut; it is only his mind that spins over and through the situation.

How long has it been now?

Eponine, leaning against the wall around the corner from the door, is bored. Bored, thinking over Hattie, thinking over Mister Gold. Mostly thinking about Deadpool.

He had LIED to her. Lied. Just like Papa and 'Parnasse and everybody else.He didn't care about her.
And yet - she wants to see him. Just to... see. To reconfirm to herself... Perhaps she's a glutton for heartache. At least it's feeling something. Or maybe she's just a little bit desperate. If he doesn't love her, than nobody in Port did. But he doesn't...

Eponine's confused. She's exhausted and hungry and confused. She wants to see Deadpool.
No she doesn't.

She's hungry at any rate, and she realises, as she peers round the corner to the door, that she can't hear voices. They must have gone in. Perhaps, then, she can sneak in and grab a bit of bread or an apple or something?

She slides round the corner and edges to the door, bare feet making no sound as she comes up to the front door.
Still no sound.

She puts her head round the door. They're still there - or at least Deadpool and Grantaire are.

Deadpool.

She takes a sharp inhalation of breath, purely out of shock. She hadn't expected anybody to be in the hall. As quickly as she came, she hurries away from the door, pressing her back to the wall, lest they had seen her. Lest HE had seen her.

"Ok then, well this is certainly awkward. How about that local sports team huh?"

There is a look about as he just kind of stands there. It seemed like there was some sort of quarrel or some other bullshit between the two of them. What exactly it was could only be speculated from an outside source, but apparently some real shit had happened. It seemed like that was often the case all over. Everyone had their baggage they brought with them to this place, and well everywhere.

"Anyway, I'm--"

There was a pause as he heard a breath, and reflexively he turns his head and sees her. Of course she was here, he was beginning to feel left out of the drama package here, and could just ignore what was going on, but now he couldn't. Maybe she had wanted to see him, I mean her showing up was a good sign.

"--going to go do something elsewhere, have fun with the house Granite!"

I think his name was something else. Well, that didn't particularly matter, there is a cute french girl to go after. Great, this will be fantastic I'm sure. Shut up, self.

"I really need to work on getting some special boxes or something."

He shook his head and headed off towards Eponine casually, leaving the strange new man to his own devices.

He'll find Eponine sat on the floor round the corner of the front door, with her back pressed up against his house. Her legs are drawn up to her chest, and her arms are clasped round them.

She does not want to deal with this. At all.

"You're an idiot, Eponine. Going in..."
She berates herself in a mutter. Why had she gone in? She Wasn't THAT hungry. Deadpool better not chase her... Though it would let Grantaire reunite with Enjolras, so at least two people would be happy. And, she supposes, it'd pass some time until they were done. If Grantaire shut up long enough to let Enjolras have his turn.

"Uh... hi there. I know you are still mad at me and all, but I have some baked goods in the kitchen, and everything, you are welcome to them."

He kind of just stood there rubbing the back of his head a little sheepishly. He knew why she was mad, but he couldn't think of an easy solution which would see everybody safe and happy.

She just looks up at him. Baked goods? He had lied to her, used her - and he was offering her baked goods? She'd like to bake his goods, that's for sure.

"That man is M'sieur..." she can't remember his name-
"He is M'sieur Enjolras' friend from home. A student, I think. He'll know what to do to take your slave away."

She goes back to picking at her broken nails, one arm pressing hard into her gut to stop it rumbling.

"I hope he's quick; I've missed M'sieur Gold for this."

"I seriously doubt it. Unless he happens to be magically inclined, and aware of Loki's particular brand of hoo-doo. From what I gathered of Ol' Granite there, he seems like a particularly long-winded fellow, and I have been known to go on tirades myself."

He crosses his arms. He didn't think he had been that bad himself, all things considered. This was probably a safer attitude for her to take, but he couldn't help himself from grasping a little.

"Tell you what, come in I'll give you something to eat, and then you can go on merrily hating my guts. You are hungry, and you don't need to play the hard like a rock card with me."

Eponine scowls, looking down at her dress. It's dusty now from her sitting in the road. Hattie was going to be cross and waste Eponine's tea-time whinging at her. Perhaps it would be better to eat now.

But that would also mean conceding to Deadpool. So she grumbles,

"I don't want you to give me anything. I can take it myself!"

She does get up though, and barges past Deadpool for the house.
"Anyway, M'sieur is CLEVER. He's a student, like M'sieur Enjolras. Between them, they can figure it out."

He'll take it as a win anyway, the main goal was accomplished. Obviously having the person graciously thank you, and then leap into your arms with all forgiven would be preferable, but you took what life dished out somedays.

"Alright. Alright." he'll just follow a safe distance behind.

"You realize that students are best at drinking and talking, not actually getting anything accomplished right?"

She carries on to the kitchen and grabs an apple out of the bowl.

"They will work it out, Monsieur. Monsieur Grantaire will not let M'sieur Enjolras stay here. They can be determined; I have heard them talk before."

She skirts to the end of the table, as far away from Deadpool as possible. Eponine looks ill at ease; funny, considering how this had been a second home for a while. She looks uncomfortable now though, fluttering like a caged bird as she paces nervously. Her shoulders are hunched forward, and her eyes never settle on any one thing for too long.

"Determined is one thing, actually doing something, not as likely. You can relax for a bit, you know."

He stretches a bit and yawns. With a bit of a turn of his head he hears a satisfying pop and then chills on a counter. Idly he reaches and grabs a knife and swirls it around expertly.

"It doesn't feel right here."

She shakes her head, slowly backing away a little more when Deadpool picks up the knife. He had sworn - SWORN - that he was not like Montparnasse - but then again, he had lied about other things. Inwardly, Eponine resolved herself to be held in check with the knife, already shutting down the bits of her brain that screamed fear and told her to cry out. She wouldn't have survived Paris for this long, had she given in to her fear. Her eyes never leave that knife. If Deadpool is going to lunge at her, she at least wants to be informed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A very French Invasion - BACKDATED

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject