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 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."