InsaneJournal

Who: Esmeralda and Grantaire plus NPC!Clopin
What: Esmeralda’s dreams come to a violent end along with disturbing gift
When: Early morning hours, 15 October 2016
Where: The Court of Miracles
Warnings: References to being burnt at the stake.
Status: Log | Complete

Well. It was bound to happen. Esmeralda had known that her death was coming in the dreams, it was impossible not to. The question was simply when she would dream of it. Still, she led her life, danced and explored and saw a growing animosity as the presidential campaign continued on towards people like her. Or well, more open hostility and animosity. Why it was almost as if she had never left France or the dreams. And she still let herself believe and hope. She brushed the hatred off and continued her life.

That night had been like most. She danced, she served drinks, she flitted from person to person. And by the end of the night as they were closing up, there was only one person left. Grantaire as it seemed he had passed out drunk at the table he’d been at. Nodding to Clopin, the two managed to get him down to the bed they’d set aside for their de-facto family member and went back to cleaning up with the others, before everyone turned in for the night (well, early morning).

The dream started as only it could. Being dragged in front of Notre Dame to jeering crowds, torn away from Phoebus and tied to a pyre with Frollo reading her sentence and making one last appeal that she give into him. Esmeralda had her answer. She spat in his face and even knowing that was what officially sealed her fate, she could feel that fear of what was to come. Frollo taking the torch. Lighting the pyre.

The pain.

Screaming as she felt the flames lick around her feet, the heat sweltering, smoke filled her lungs and she struggled to breathe, to get away from the flames when she was tied in place, as if that would do any good. The struggling made breathing even harder and at some point she passed out. Only to wake up back in the bell tower with Quasimodo.

Yes. He was a good friend, though she didn’t think that she would be there forever. But one last sunrise with a good friend? That was a better way to go than going up in flame. Staying conscious didn’t last all that long though and soon Esmeralda again succumbed to unconsciousness, no longer breathing.

In the darkness beneath the Court of Miracles, she screamed in pain as if she were being burnt alive before coughing violently to complete silence.

***

R woke up briefly as he was moved, mumbling praises into the cloth of Esmeralda’s shirt as he was manipulated into a bed, and then promptly passing out again. But he never did sleep long, even when he was sloppy drunk (he’d been told that drink actually prevented him from sleep; he proved them wrong by drinking until the world grew dark and his head too heavy to hold up); only a decent dose of Ambien kept him down for any length of time. So when the screaming started, it woke him easily.

His mother screamed, sometimes, when she got it into her head that she needed to stop the drinking or the drugs that she medicated herself with; the few times that she’d elected to remain at home through the process stayed with R. There was no forgetting the screaming, the begging, the threats and violence. ‘Do not give me anything, no matter what I say or do,’ she would always say, and then a few hours later found her clawing at him, desperate and angry, demanding he be a good son for once in his life and give her her stash.

It only took a few rounds of that before his father insisted on a facility for her detoxing, one of the few instances of good parenting that R was willing to credit him with.

But the screams reminded him of his youth for a moment, and with the drink he was disoriented. He was not in his room in their penthouse, but in a dark, sparse room. But he remembered himself quickly, and stumbled out into the hallway and towards the other bedrooms. He froze in place as the screaming stopped, replaced with ragged coughing and then silence. It had come from Esmeralda’s room.

R had the decency to knock before he entered, though he didn’t think that she would answer, and he cracked open the door a moment after. “Ma cherie? Are you alright? May I come in?”

***

The screaming had not woken just Grantaire though once Clopin saw that Grantaire was going to check on Esmeralda, he had gone back to his own room for the moment unless he was needed.

There was no response. No sounds of even shallow breathing, though a seeming scent of smoke and ash was in the room. Just an eerie stillness.

***

Grantaire nodded at Clopin as he passed, the older man’s door closing again - apparently, Grantaire had the situation handled, which were R sober enough to realize the implications would make him laugh. He had nothing handled, least of all this.

The scent of smoke concerned R - it wasn’t a cigarette or something more illicit, but rather like a wood fire, and with something that was somewhat uncomfortably like cooked meat. It was unsettling and turned R’s stomach, but when no answer came he pushed the door open further and peered in. It was dark, of course, its inhabitant had been sleeping, so R pulled his phone out and turned on the flashlight, shining it around. Esmeralda’s room was nicer than the one that he kept, more furnished and personable, but similar in size and layout, so it didn’t take long to find her. Sprawled on the bed, twisted in the covers as one often was after a nightmare, and…

...not breathing.

“Merde!” R swore, scrambling into the room. He felt suddenly, a lot more sober, and at the same time a lot less confident in what he should be doing - panicking would be a kind way to describe him at the moment. He didn’t know what to do for someone who was not breathing, only that the longer they didn’t breathe the worst things became for them. Something about brain damage, he was sure, and now he cursed the fact that he paid enough attention to the horrible medical dramas his mother favored to know that much, but not enough to fix it.

Finally gathering enough of his wits to know that he was useless here (as he often was), R ran for the door. “Clopin!” he called down the hall, and then, in French because he was far too panicked to go through the mental jumping jacks required for English, “She isn’t breathing!”

***

Clopin had been prepared to go back to sleep when suddenly he heard Grantaire yelling down the hall. And the fact that he was saying Esmeralda wasn’t breathing? That was not what he had expected but he was out the door and to Esmeralda’s, Madelaine and Gringoire looking out startled by the yelling.

In the room, the so called ‘king’ noted the smell of smoke and was concerned because it wasn’t quite right but there were more pressing matters at hand, the lack of breathing from Esmeralda. Luckily for Grantaire though, Clopin did know what to do in these situations, they took care of their own (and it wasn’t like they had the options of legal healthcare) and after some very tense moments, Esmeralda started coughing violently as she started breathing again.

Smoothing down her hair and murmuring in Romani that he thought he had lost her, Clopin noted the ash and his eyes narrowed in concern. Just what was going on. Though with all the tension and just that they were with friends, he didn’t bother with English.

“Stay with her. I’m getting water.”

As Clopin left, Esmeralda was working to get her breathing under control and to stop coughing, which really was being far more difficult than it had any right being. She was beyond unnerved, ashen and shaking.
“Sorry.”

Because of course she would apologize, though her voice was weak, hoarse.

***

Danger passed, or at least the life threatening kind, R hushed her and sat beside her on the bed, not noticing the presence of ash surrounding her. “No need to apologize, you did nothing wrong, and frankly I’ve done worse to you in the time that we’ve known each other. At least you didn’t puke on me, huh?” R forced a laugh, panic still tight in his lungs, though loosening as her breathing improved. He put an arm around her and drew her into his chest, rocking them both. His bedside manner left a lot to be desired, and for once he had no words to try and fill the silence stretching into the room, broken only by Esmeralda’s wheezing.

Well. He had a few words. “Are you okay? What happened?”

***

It was a lot to take in. Even without knowing precisely what had happened, between the dream, Clopin’s words, Grantaire’s actions and the fact she still was struggling to breathe? Esmeralda had a feeling that she had died, or nearly died. She definitely had in the dreams at any rate and so she just closed her eyes as Grantaire pulled her close. Even if he thought his bedside manner was less than desired, it was enough for her.

Even with the question.

Staying quiet for a moment as she tried to piece her thoughts together as it almost felt like a haze, she finally found the words.

“I was burnt alive. On a pyre..”

There was no question no need initially to go into specifics. She had shared with Grantaire already about Frollo and the fact she’d been waiting at the Bastille for her death, the charges against her. And while she had known abilities might come over just like the items, well… she hadn’t expected this.

***

R swore again, pulling her closer. “Our friend of God is the one to blame, I assume?” he asked, venom in his voice where normally indifference or faux-cheer would be. Grantaire was not often roused to emotion other than drunken joviality or sarcasm, but the few that he cared about incited something in him. He took great care not to care about anything, but still, some people had wormed their way in, and he was fierce when it came to them. “You are okay, Esmeralda, you’re alive and he can’t touch you here.”

***

Coughing, Esmeralda nodded tiredly. “Lit the pyre himself.” Because of course he would. She refused him consistently, “I spat in his face though.” As if it mattered. It had been an act of stupidity and refusing to give in, to show the fear she so clearly had been feeling in that moment.

It was the very rare day when Grantaire was anything other than sarcasm or drunken joviality, where he let himself care and show it, but there it was, and even in the haze of feeling as though she was still breathing in the smoke, she heard it.

Could he get her though? What if Frollo showed up? It went against every part of her to be afraid. She fought for her convictions, believed the best of people and always found a way to hope. But Frollo? “No, he can’t…”

As Clopin entered, she could tell that something was wrong. He looked shaken and angry though was doing his best to mask it as he gave her water.

“What is it?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Because that obviously made her feel better.

***

“Bastard,” R spat. “I’m glad you got yours in the end, though I’m sure it didn’t help your case much.” Though from the way Esmeralda had made him sound, death was a more preferable option than a life spent with Frollo, submitting to him. He had a hard time imagining Esmeralda bowing before any man.

“He can’t,” he told her, because even if he were somehow to make his way to Orange County, this place was decidedly less medieval than her dreams appeared to be. R looked up as Clopin came in, frowning. He rarely saw the man so much as flustered - threatening, behind the smile, sure, but not like this. R carefully moved Esmeralda away from himself and stood up. “You brought her a drink but not me? Clopin, I thought we were friends. Brothers even! Come on, let’s correct that, give her a moment to get herself together.” He took Clopin by the arm and began to pull him out the door, fulling intending on interrogating the man on what had him in such a state once they were safely out of Esmeralda’s earshot.

***

No, Esmeralda would never submit to any man. It was not who she was, and death was preferable to what Frollo had wanted from her. But she was also human and the fear of death remained even as she knew it was coming. As she took the water, she watched the two men though given how drained she was, she didn’t question it and just sipped the water before coughing again.

While Clopin was the type to close ranks, something he was definitely planning on doing for the time, Grantaire was part of those ranks and so once they were out of earshot, he looked to the man.

“Someone has left a pyre on her stage.”


To Clopin, it was an obvious threat. He wasn’t sure how this person got in and out without any of them noticing, just what had happened and why Esmeralda’s room smelled of fire, but the threat was obvious to him.

***

For a moment, Grantaire went cold. That was quite clearly a threat, although how anyone would get into the bar was beyond him. But then the pieces began to slot into place - a pyre in her dreams, a pyre on her stage, it all seemed too convenient. R wasn’t so sure he believed in the dreams, though he couldn’t argue with the results that his gave him (he would never argue with a drink or several, after all), but if Esmeralda burned in her dreams then she might have received the means to burn herself here as well. He huffed out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I think that she is safe. I do not know how to explain it to you because I do not know how to explain it to myself, but I think that that pyre is not a danger to her. But it will upset her, can you and the others take it down before morning?” He doubted Clopin would say no, but hoped that he wasn’t included in the cleanup. He needed a drink and several more hours of sleep.

***

This was one of those strange things that went on in the area. That was what Clopin was coming up with. Madelaine had made comments before, that the cards were saying strange things. Now this? Clopin was unimpressed. Grantaire clearly knew something, it was how he held himself when he had heard about the pyre and his reaction.

“We will ensure she is safe.” With no explanation on how the pyre showed up, Clopin was still going to close ranks until either it seemed the threat was abetted or they figured out who did it. Because clearly if the pyre was going to upset Esmeralda, it meant that she would know what it meant, which meant it was a threat. No one threatened his group, no one. “We will though.”

As for Esmeralda? She could feel the silence around her, the scent of ash around her and stuck in her throat. Coughing as she finished the water, she looked around. She needed to get out. She needed air. Pushing herself out of bed, she winced as she placed weight on her feet but made her way to the door of her room and looked to the two.

“Will what?”

Clopin should have expected that, Esmeralda never could just stay put, even when she looked weak.

“Nothing for you to worry about. You should be resting.”

“I need air.”

And that was the rub. The only way out was upstairs. Where the pyre was.

***

R managed to put the pieces together at about the same time Clopin did, and he glanced at the other man. If they said no, Esmeralda would know that something was wrong. If they said yes, she would go upstairs, and they would either have to admit that they knew the pyre was there or fake surprise themselves. Clopin could probably get away with it. Probably not R. Either way, she would find out, because if she wanted air then she would have it.

It was probably best to just be done with it, and hope she didn’t notice. R held his arms out to her. “Then we will get air, and drinks. Let’s go somewhere else, I need a drink and you need a change of scenery. There’s a bar a few blocks away that’s open very late, even later than the Court.” Which he knew from experience, all too familiar with being kicked out of one bar and then stumbling to another. “Let’s go there, and we will drink until we can sleep again.”

***

Grantaire taking Esmeralda to another bar for drinks would certainly allow him and Gringoire time to be rid of the pyre. Yes it risked her seeing it, but Esmeralda had her ways of finding things out anyway.

A change of scenery was definitely something she needed. Mostly the air though. Esmeralda was also well aware that something was afoot. Just because she was drained and felt weak didn’t mean she wasn’t going to pick up on the tension. For now though, she just nodded and went to Grantaire taking his arm as she knew that walking on her own wasn’t exactly in her cards at the moment.

“Of course you do.”

Letting Grantaire lead her up the stairs, Esmeralda looked back over her shoulder to see Clopin go talk to Madelaine and Gringoire. Shaking her head for the bit, she focused on the walk up the stairs to the main tavern. And… a pyre. On her stage. Eyes widening, she stumbled more into Grantaire, breath catching, though if it was shock or just general weakness was anyone’s guess.

But right. Getting outside. Away from pyres and smoke and ash. Away from it all.