an entrance, if not a grand one.

[daughterofawolf]

She opens her eyes and she is on a shore.

Mama spoke of the shore, once, in the same bitterly dulcet tones she occasionally employed to imagine a life without the Thenardier; Eponine has never seen it, unless the filthy banks of the Seine count as some sort of shore. Still, there are only so many things that a lot of land dipping into water can be, can it? She's not stupid.

She simply blinks at it. She'd been preparing herself to march onto the barricades and, what? Perhaps die, rather romantically, alongside Marius, or if not, at least make sure they both survived the Guard and she had a good story to tell about the revolution. Only he'd caught her out, hadn't he, and ordered her to bring his Cosette a letter. Well, so much for her resolve. She'd done it, even though she should have thrown it away. Or well, her father had intercepted it. So perhaps her once-foster-sister, now so lovely and earnest and exactly the sort that should marry a ridiculous starving lawyer from a wealthy family, will never see it, depending on the old man.

But she'd been going back, is the point, and she'd stopped to sigh at herself for just a moment.

And now she is looking at an unfamiliar ocean, and for just a moment, Eponine allows herself to be afraid. It wouldn't be the first time she had seen something not there, but it would be the strangest in quite some time. It's cold, and the beach is empty.

Fear isn't something that she can wallow in, and she whirls around, casting her eyes up and down along the sand to get some sense of herself. There are people, further up the beach, dressed strangely, and when she turns, there are such lights behind her as nothing she's ever seen.

Her eyes narrow and she tries to ignore the quickness of her heart.

Comments

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius finds comfort in the ocean, even as he really ought not to, considering it was Kathy who'd introduced him to the beach in the first place. Still, the vastness and unknown depths call out to him, limited though they may be by Darrow's borders. The ocean is old, wild, and free all at once, full of an inhibition that Marius can't help but envy, no matter how he's changed in his years in Darrow.

The salt hangs heavy in the air this evening as he walks among the sand, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a lit cigarette. The small warmth from the cigarette glows against the oncoming night and helps Marius to take in the sights around him.

The beach is mostly empty, he finds. Well, it's not surprising, given the cold weather. His gaze lands on a lone girl, dressed in clothes he finds himself oddly recognizing. He blinks and stares, making out her form, lank and lean in the dark. He drops his cigarette and puts it out as he studies her, hardly believing what it is he's seeing.

Just the other month, he'd found her hat along these shores. How fate would have it that she should turn up in the same place.

"Eponine?" He calls out, trying not to let himself grow too hopeful and failing.

[daughterofawolf]

She stills in the long shadows at her name, but it's not in fear, not this time. If it were someone to fear, or to fight, it wouldn't be her name they'd call her. Girl, they'd say, or bitch, or brat, or that tramp. Miss, maybe, in the ironic tones of an inspector that makes the formality a dirty word.

But rarely Eponine.

And she'd recognize that voice, anywhere, wouldn't she, even if it were not who she was trying to get back to? Every casual pronouncement of it, every tu since he switched from vous, it goes in some little treasure box in her mind that she won't let anyone know she has.

Here, though, it feels like just another madness, some new trick of her mind, and she turns, distrusting herself. "Who's there," she calls, folding her arms around herself protectively.

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius walks slowly in her direction, trying not to rush at her. The way she folds her arms around herself, the way she responds, even, all confirm to him that it is, in fact, Eponine standing there on Darrow's shores, looking lost. His heart beats loudly in his chest, it seems to him; it nearly crawls up to his throat, clawing to get out. Even looking at her now, he can still see her so clearly in his arms, blood falling like rain from the bullet wound meant for him. His eyes widen as he fights against the tears that very much want to fill them.

He switches to French, always glad to be able to speak in his native tongue when he has the chance, as he approaches, hoping she'll recognize him.

"It's me," he says, voice quiet against the tides lapping at the shores, nearly against his feet. "It's Marius. How long have you been here on the beach?"

[daughterofawolf]

Eponine lets out a breath she wasn't quite aware she'd been keeping held; she darts in his direction only to stop a few paces away, aware of herself. And -- even he is different here. His clothes are strange, not at all the young man who'd just sent her on a mission. And the way he looks at her --

"Only a moment," she says, glad to hear that she can command her tone. "I thought it was a funny turn I'd taken. But we are -- really somewhere else, aren't we?"

She tips her head up at him and frowns. "How long should I have been here? The way you look at me..."

[pontmercyfriend]

Only a moment, she says. She must have just arrived, he realizes, and his eyes widen as he takes in that fact. And not only must all of this seem so strange to her, but he must look strange to her as well, dressed as he is in his modern clothes.

"Yes," he says with a nods once he recovers enough to do so. It is still a shock to see her standing before him like this, and it's all he can do not to run and pull her into a hug. He feels like he is looking directly at a ghost. "This is a city called Darrow. I'm not sure how to best describe it, only it seems to be somewhere in America in the future."

He isn't certain he should mention the part about the future so soon, but the words are out of his mouth before he can think to stop them.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, rubbing a hand across his eyes to smear away any accidental tears. "It's just...it's been awhile since I saw you last. What's the last that you remember of Paris?"

[daughterofawolf]

"Darrow," Eponine tries out, as though it is a new slang word she's learning to use. It certainly isn't a French city name, but to hear Marius so blithely describe it as the future...?

She tilts her head at him and puts her hands on her hips. "I am dreaming," she says, "or you've been reading too many novels." Still, she darts an uncertain glance at the strange lights illuminating the city above.

"I just saw you," she says stubbornly, and again she's unsure, and doesn't like it a bit. He does look -- older, or sadder, at least, than she remembers, his hair not quite the same, his clothes different. Eponine feels a prickle at her neck. "Why, you'd just spotted me at the barricades, and you told me to deliver a letter to that bourgeois sweetheart of yours instead of staying. And I did it, you know -- and was just about to be on my way back."

Only she ended up here. Where he is, too, not the barricades at all. Whatever God or devil has brought her here at least has a sense of humor about what it was she was trying to do.

[pontmercyfriend]

"Well, I can't say that I haven't been reading too many novels," Marius says, attempting a joke with a weak smile. "But I could never dream this up, I don't think. I don't have that great of an imagination."

He watches as she examines the lights, seemingly trying to make sense of what she's seeing, he guesses. He remembers his own confusion with such aspects of modern life rather well.

His eyes widen when she mentions where it is she's just been. He stares at her a moment, a long, silent moment as he tries to process what that fact means. Eponine doesn't know she's died; she doesn't know that the barricades failed. She doesn't know yet that she died for him. Perhaps it is an act of mercy from God that has brought Eponine to Darrow now.

Still. He cannot not tell her the truth; he owes her that much, at least.

"Oh," he says, once he can find his voice again. "I see. It's...well. It's been some time since then, for me."

[daughterofawolf]

Marius' eyes go wide, and he stares. She's never seen him look at her thus, such a haunted, thoughtful expression as though she's just said something of immense importance. Just a few days ago she thought she would have done almost anything to have him think so much over something she'd said, and yet now that it seems to have struck him, she finds herself uncomfortable with it.

Not that she's comfortable with much of this. "What do you mean?" she asks, eyes narrowing as she tries to understand all that's going on, and she does reach for him now, putting her hands over his. "Marius, what is it?"

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius sighs, his chest tight and nerves frayed. Suddenly, his years in Darrow slip away; he's back at the barricades, holding Eponine in his arms and watching the life drain from her body.

He has to shake his head to dislodge the image from his mind.

He only just realizes that she's grabbed his hands. He turns his own to join their hands together as he finally begins to speak.

"It was six months for me, after the barricades," he says. "When I first awoke and found myself here in Darrow. I've now been here for three years. Nearly four, actually."

He still can't bring himself to tell her that she's died.

[daughterofawolf]

Marius turns his hands palms-up to hers. Despite all the swinging around on his arms and tugging at his sleeve she's done in the past, there's something so very unexpected and gentle about this. In her mind's eye, how often has she imagined Marius taking her hand? He has rounded writing callouses, but they're softer hands than hers, the hands of a student who can afford to keep himself inside, and she almost snatches hers back in shame.

How ridiculous she is! What a stupid, stupid girl.

He looks at her with such wonder and grief and she can't understand any of it, and she twines her fingers with his for his own benefit, tipping her head to listen.

"Four years," she breathes, and shakes her head. This is all mad. But if she looks at him, she can see the changes; has already if she's honest about it. His eyes are a little older, his hair is different. Perhaps not so much that she'd guess it, but none of this makes any sense. "How --"

"And you say you came from after the barricades...? So," she tries for a little grin, insouciance easier than uncertainty. "I didn't let you get in too much trouble, after all."

[pontmercyfriend]

"Shall we go somewhere?" Marius offers. He doesn't think she should be standing when he fully explains what's happened back in Paris, somewhere after her time. And, selfishly, he can admit he could use something warm to wrap his hands around for this conversation. "There's a cafe that sells decent tea and pastries, for an American cafe," he adds with a small smile, weak though it may be.

He's glad, though, when she twines her fingers with his. It makes her feel more real; more solid. More full of warmth and alive.

"It is madness," he agrees. "For I can think of nothing else that makes sense as an explanation. But this madness can be good, sometimes, I think."

"No, you didn't," he says, trying to speak lightly about the situation and failing. "But I think it would be better if we speak of this over warm drinks and food."

[daughterofawolf]

She's very aware of her dirty overcoat and worn boots -- she is not the sort of girl who breakfasts or has tea in cafes very often, more the sort that gets chased out of awnings for making a place look vulgar and cheap. Eponine isn't sure what a cafe is like here, if it's the same as in Paris, but the idea of tea with Marius in a warm new place is exciting, and the idea of pastries makes her stomach grumble a little. She cannot properly remember the last time she ate, which is more usual than not. She's not too good to accept food when it's offered.

"It is a good madness," she says, slowly, "I think." Already she's beginning to wonder what else is different here.

"Yes, take me to tea, Monsieur Marius," she says, lightly, though his failing smile worries her. "Are there any others here from our Paris?"

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius knows, from having once shared an apartment building with Eponine and her family, that she does not always get enough to eat. Now, he is glad she is in Darrow, not only so she can live again, but so she can have a better life, hopefully, than that back in Paris.

He offers her his arm, his manners still ingrained, even after nearly four years in Darrow.

"There are, as it happens," he tells her. "Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre, all from the barricades." He pauses before continuing. "For a time, Gavroche was here as well."

[daughterofawolf]

She tucks her hand into his arm, feeling very proper and a little pleased, even if she can't shake the nervousness his expression inspires.

She recognizes the names, a bit, but she thinks she might recognizes the faces better of any one of those students. Grantaire, she thinks, is the one who Gavroche favored, the one who drinks and laughs more than the others.

"My brother?" She turns to him, surprised. "But I just -- well. I saw you, just a bit ago, too," she huffs. If she's to expect this city to make sense, she'll be waiting a time it seems. "What do you mean for a time?" Her eyes narrow a bit. That doesn't sound any good. It's not as though she expects a good end for any of them, but --

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius winces, wishing for a nicer explanation that he could give her, instead of the city's cruelty. His face is full of earnest sadness as he answers her question.

"The people Darrow brings," he says. "They don't always stay. They return home, sometimes. Gavroche returned home." To die, he knows, but he doesn't say it out loud. He doesn't know if Eponine knows, either, the fate of her younger brother. If not, he wants to break such news to her as gently as possible.

"This city is as capricious as it is generous," he says. "Not so much different from Paris, in some respects."

[daughterofawolf]

She nods, taking that in. That means that she may not stay here, either, nor he. And the look on his face when he speaks of Gavroche is not much, if any, better than when he speaks of her. It may just be that Paris is a bit of a death sentence for them both: as she'd said to their father, who cares if she gets murdered one day or picked off the road from starving a year later? It all ends the same way. But for Gavroche, she feels a bit more protective.

"Capricious, is that how you'd call what Paris is," she says with a little smirk. For all of its faults, she does love the city, but she loves it as she loves her mother: almost without knowing why. For Marius, Paris may be a place of learning, for her -- well it's an education as well, an education in how best-laid plans go awry. It's a very pretty place to be poor if she had to choose one, and to wander on her own, and there are more people to squeeze money out of than in Montfermeil, perhaps. But mostly it's full of cholera and dirt same as any other place.

"I think I like here better anyway," she shrugs, keeping an aloof tone; she is determined not to think too long on the fact that she's missed her brother entirely and may not see him again at all, if what Marius says is true. "But their food may do the telling."

[pontmercyfriend]

Eponine, as always, seems to take in what he tells her about Darrow in stride. Even now, after all that he's seen her go through, after all that they've been through together, he's still amazed at how level a head she keeps on her shoulders. She could give lessons, he thinks, to the people in his grandfather's circles.

"Don't get me wrong," he hastens to correct himself. "I love Paris dearly. But it is not always such a kind city." As Eponine would know better than most, and as Marius knows from experience, though none nearly so thorough as hers as to Paris' underbelly.

"Darrow does have excellent food here," Marius nods. "Though, I feel you should prepare yourself. The wine is rather lacking."

[daughterofawolf]

She smiles a bit at that. "No, not always," she says with a wry smile. "But it did introduce us, Monsieur Marius," she pronounces lightly. "And this city has brought us back together. So I suppose neither can be all bad."

As they walk away from the ocean toward whatever place Marius has in mind, she takes a moment to look around. Once again, Eponine finds herself a bit bewildered, and doesn't enjoy the feeling. The lights everywhere, diffusing in the mist of the evening, and the many noises, so unlike the noisy shouts and clatter of Paris streets. She finds herself wanting to take his arm rather more tightly and chides herself for it.

"We've traveled to the future and they don't even have good wine?" As though Eponine would know fancy wine. "Well, that's a disappointment. I hope it's strong, at least, for I think I'll need a drink after all this."