|Grantaire has a vague amibition (drinkwithme) wrote in the100,|
@ 2015-11-06 23:19:00
|Entry tags:||!log/thread, enjolras (musical), grantaire (musical)|
Who: Enjolras and Grantaire with brief appearance from Lexi
When: November 5th
Where: At the bonfire
What: Talking, and feels
Rating: Mention of character deaths
Grantaire was drunk. Which in and of itself was not unusual. He in fact was usually drunk. It wasn’t even unusual that he had a drunk woman cuddled up against his side. Grantaire had had a few mistresses over the years. Not that any of them had meant anything. No, what was unusual about this situation was the drunken greek god on the other side of him. His statue of marble had in fact relaxed like he’d suggested. And, drunk Enjolras was different. Softer. Less harsh. And yet, still speechy. And, as per usual Enjolras’s oration held him in rapt attention even if sometimes he did seem to lose his train of thought under the effects of inebriation.
And, not that he couldn’t help poking holes in his arguments, either. Playing Devil’s advocate, it was what he sometimes did for him. It irritated his friend more than anything else. It was Grantaire’s way of helping. Even if he didn’t believe a word of the arguments he was reciting. He didn’t believe in much of anything, apart from the man he was arguing with. The only one who’d been able to make him feel anything in years.
“Apollo. Sit down, would you? You’re making me dizzy.”
The aforementioned greek god was mostly still getting used to the concept of absinthe and drunkenness. And wasn’t sure if he liked it. It dulled the senses immeasurably and he had told Grantaire and his blonde girl so. The girl though was oddly wise beyond her years and he wasn’t really sure what to do with that. But luckily she seemed to have quietened and was mostly snuggled against his friend occasionally making what she had earlier termed ‘grabby hands’ for the ever dwindling bottle of absinthe.
And so he had continued to talk, and pace, and seemingly make Grantaire dizzy.
“I would except you do continue to try and argue around me even when we’re this...ugh, drunk.” he said finally. “I expect hangovers will follow and that just seems a pointless waste of time. Why cause your body this many problems willingly and then deal with suffering its after effects. Who does it help? How are we going to be at our best if there is another attack?”
He had had ideas about that a while ago but he didn’t remember them now, a fact for which he also blamed Grantaire.
“I would win the argument if you hadn’t let me drink so much. ...I’ve decided I don’t like it.” he said, finally sitting down. “But you did ask me to come along to this celebrationand so I have done. Are you happy now?”
He realised as he’d sat down he’d picked up the bottle again and rolled his eyes before taking another swig.
“...I still blame you for all of this you know”
Grantaire breathed a sigh of relief as Enjolras finally sat down next to him. He’d been straining his neck watching Enjolras’ pacing. Unable to keep his eyes off of him even as his fingers absentmindedly caressed the arm of the blonde girl he’d only met earlier that evening. Not that that had ever made a difference. Nor was his mind even on what was going on there. The arguing with Enjolras was more habit than anything else now. Drunk or sober. Not that he remembered what sober felt like. Not real sobriety anyway. Even if Enjolras could seemingly sober him up in an instant with the right harsh words spoken in disgust. That had not happened since they had gotten to this future.
“It helps those who embrace it. Who need something to make them merry. Who like the feeling it gives them. It helps those who drink to forget, or those who drink to feel.” He said, taking the bottle from Enjolras’s hands only to lift it to his own lips. “I’ll teach you my hangover treatments in the morning.”
R ran a hand over his face, as he contemplated Apollo’s question. Was he happy? It was a state of mind he didn’t clearly recall. Lying back on the ground, he stared up at the stars. As always, feeling small and insignificant beneath them. And, reaching up he grabbed Enjolras’s shirt to pull him down next to him.
“Aren’t the stars beautiful?” He’d decided to not answer the question about happiness just yet. “Don’t you just lose yourself in them?”
“Drink to forget? I suppose that would make the most sense? Truth is, if you can keep a secret mon ami, I’m not completely unfeeling despite what they might say.”
He did appreciate the discussion of hangover treatments. He wasn’t at all looking forward to that. But having been pulled down to lie on the ground to look at the stars he suspected he might just need it the next day. The ground was further away than he had anticipated and Grantaire seemed determined to show him the night sky. He’d never really thought much about the beauty in the sky. But there it was. Above them and apparently beautiful. He just saw stars. They were even moving a little too fast.
“They’re stars. I suppose I can see what you find beautiful in them, but I don’t know. Art and things like that, they were always your forte?”
All the same he sat back and watched with Grantaire, stars were, he supposed, easier than thinking of new arguments with Grantaire. Now was hardly the time for those of course. He hadn’t the heart anymore, it was hard to argue with the cynic when you agreed with him.
But it was best that the topic of the past remain that. There was more he wanted to know.
“Tell me something? Why Apollo of all of them? Why is he so specifically the one you associate me with? And I want an honest answer, out here. Not a deflection. Because I’ll probably go back and sleep this off soon and leave you to your blonde lady friend. But first I want to know that?”
“No one thought you were unfeeling, Enjolras. Not really.” Grantaire said, wishing he was able to see his face. And yet, at the same time glad he could not. “The one who said that most was I, anyway. And, I only said those things in jest.” Sometimes as a way of reminding himself that his feelings about his friend would never be reciprocated on those occasions that he’d ever dared hope. Ever dared to even imagine that it could happen. Because he knew, he didn’t deserve to have Enjolras return his affection.
“It’s more than art, the stars. You can get lost within their depths, knowing with certainty that compared to the universe our petty little struggles mean nothing. Even more so than what you told Marius….” He trailed off from that thought. Missing his friends, and knowing that Apollo was likely feeling that too. Feeling a guilt that even Grantaire couldn’t imagine. He who had slept through the last day of the revolution. Slept through the deaths of his friends. Only to awake to die beside their leader. A position he knew he didn’t deserve and never would.
But, tonight was not for such melancholy things. But, apparently it was for truths. He supposed he owed Apollo that much after having gotten his drunk enough to ask the questions. He rolled onto his side, absently displacing Lexi and leaning his head on his hand as he gazed down at Enjolras’s face as he spoke.
“Isn’t it obvious? You burn brightly like the sun. The passion within you draws me like a moth to a flame. Sometimes, I worry that if I get too close I will burn on your forth righteousness. But, like the earth to the sun, I can never leave your orbit.” And never get closer either, he added in his mind. “But, it’s more than that. Apollo is the god of the sun, true. But, also patron god of poetry, music and leader of the muses. And, you inspire me. You are my muse, mon amis.”
Well, there it was. He had asked after all, but he also couldn't fathom how he could be all that to one man. To the cynic that he had on so many occasions called useless or a fool with no real belief. Grantaire had often said that what he believed in was Enjolras himself but it wasn’t until they stood together at the guns of the National Guard that he really believed that to be true. And here he was told he was a muse. How could he be a muse to anyone?
“I’m unsure how I can be all that. A muse, a god. I’m just one man, One man who believed I could make a difference to a world torn apart. To a France broken and kept down at heel. The people were crying out for a change and perhaps arrogantly I thought I could give them that, Do right what they began in 1789 but not let it all fall to ruin. But look where it got us.”
He looked back to the other man more confused at the faith placed in him than anything else even if on some level he’d known for some time that it existed, the sheer weight of it made him feel more of an Atlas than Apollo.
“I don’t feel like I burn brightly, not now, not here. Perhaps things are different, perhaps you need a new muse.” he said, gesturing to the sleeping blonde girl and taking the bottle back from Grantaire. He had probably had enough absinthe but he was due the hangover anyway.
“But thank you, for the faith you carry in me and for your friendship. I did not say such things before. ...I just don’t think I can be the muse you see in me.”
R continued to study Enjolras’s face as he spoke. His heart falling with every word. Was his Apollo broken, had he somehow broken him? Had he really lost faith in himself that much? Yes, maybe Enjolras had been too hasty in his ideals. But, he’d believed it was just, and that was all Grantaire had needed to stand beside him. But, if Enjolras no longer believed. What did Grantaire have to believe in anymore.
“Did you look up what happened after the barricade fell?” Grantaire said, keeping his eyes glued to Apollo’s face. “They compared us to the Spartans at Thermopylae. And, it might have taken them 16 more years. But, they learned from our mistakes. I was wrong, our deaths did mean something. In the end.”
As for a new muse. Oh, how little his friend new of such inspiration. One could not simply just pick his muse. If he could, things might have ended differently. He would not have needed Enjolras as much as he did. “One does not pick one’s muses, Enjolras.” He finally says. “Inspiration hits when it wants. Not when I will it.”
Pausing, Grantaire took the absinth back, taking a drink to steady his thoughts. The words churning through his mind were giving him no peace, so many things he wanted to say and so many things he couldn’t say.
“Your flame may be dimmed now. But, it’s still there. You just need to find something to fan it with. Something else to feel passion for.”
“So I’m Leonidis as well as Apollo” he said with somewhat of a self deprecating smile. “But you’re saying it helped, what we did. I suppose that’s worth more than I imagined. Perhaps if we’d waited. I just, I thought with Lamarque.” There was no point in dwelling over the could have beens either, he knew that too. He’d said as much to people more than once and now he supposed he had to take his own advice.
He didn’t know about inspiration or muses. He supposed his muse as it were had always been Patria. His homeland, broken and beaten down but never defeated. He was pleased to know they had freed her in the end, even if he had not been the one to do so.
“I’m going to do what I can here my friend. I don’t know quite what that is yet, but I’ll find a cause, I’m sure I will. But I’m not sure it will have the same passion as before. As fighting for the one thing that joined us all together, with my friends, brothers and sisters under one flag, one belief.”
He was being speechy again, he’d even sat up slightly turning toward Grantaire.
“I’ll endeavour not to pace this time” he added amused. “Couldn’t have you getting a headache, your friend might never forgive me.”
He moved to touch Grantaire’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two and sleep I think. But thank you, for this, for the talk. It has helped.”
Grantaire nodded in understanding. Trying hard not to gaze in adoration at his god as he got speechy again. Instead he looked away, hiding his face. The evening had been full of too many truths, for his liking. Luckily, Enjolras had not seemed to read too much into what Grantaire had said, and he planned on keeping it that way.
Still, as his friend got up to leave, concern crossed his face. His hand moving to touch the hand on his shoulder. “Drink plenty of water before you sleep, Apollo. It will help in the morning.”
R watched Apollo walk away, suppressing a sigh of longing. And then turned to wake up his new friend.