WHO: Grantaire and Athelstan WHAT: Grantaire returns from the dead and is a little bit unimpressed. WHEN: Wednesday evening. WHERE: Church yard. RATING: Medium. Grantaire is being a pissy little bitch. STATUS: Complete
A chill passes over Grantaire as he gazes upon the grave marker bearing his name. And a date. He feels as though he has done no more than awake from sleep and whilst it has not been unusual for him to wake up not in his bed, waking up beside his own grave is understandably disconcerting.
"Qu'est que c'est?" he asks of the figure approaching him without asking or inquiring who they were, friend or foe-
"It is a grave marker, friend."
Grantaire turns his head, narrowing his eyes at the monk.
"Yes, I can see that, but it is my grave marker, and as you can see, I am very much alive," he snaps, annoyed all the more by the calm manner of the young monk whilst he was practically frantic with this discovery.
The monk nods. "Your friend was here. A girl? She wept for you. And she though we looked alike. She confused me for you to begin with-"
"You are quite mad. We look nothing alike," Grantaire continues, his shock and anger a stark contrast to the mild manners of the other man. "What girl?"
"Eponine?"
Grantaire's jaw clenches for a moment. He looks upon his grave again.
"I need a drink."
"I have water within. You may-"
"A real drink. Wine. Beer?"
He gets a half shrug from the monk. Grantaire sighs, frustrated, raking his fingers through his hair. "I'm going to go and find some."
"Grantaire," the monk calls after him and, wearily, Grantaire pauses to listen. "Go easy, brother."
"I'm not your brother," Grantaire whispers, picking his way out of the graveyard and back towards the city.