Esmeralda dances to the rhythm of the tambourine (changewillcome) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-09-30 14:31:00 |
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Well. That had been an experience. While Esmeralda had done her best to make amends as soon as the anger had left her the day before, she still felt bad about it. Well. Most of it. Maybe pulling her dagger on Gringoire had been a bit much but honestly? It wasn’t one of the things she felt as bad about. Even so, once the Court had closed for the night, Esmeralda had gone to Peter’s to hide out and let tempers cool. Now she was going to Grantaire’s to try to make more amends as she’d been short with him and he hadn’t been spared her Tower fueled wrath from what she had picked up was going on.
First stop was a bakery to pick up some pastries she knew he liked that would be familiar from France and then it was to the apartment, in which she let herself in and went to the familiar room, knocking on the door before opening it.
“Peace offering?”
R groaned, poking his head out from beneath the blanket. Unlike his prior attempts at hiding, born from depression and self pity, this particular blanket-cave of solitude was formed around his extreme embarrassment. Grantaire was not a man who normally felt things like ‘shame’, but he’d acted so shamefully the last few days it was almost impossible to.
Thankfully (?) it was just Esmeralda, who was understanding and level headed when bizarre mood-altering temples weren’t around and forcing her to pull her knife on people. He sighed and ducked back into his blankets. “Not necessary, ma cherie. I think that we both have made our mistakes. Come under the covers with me. Not in that way.” He winced a little; given his, uh, ‘actions’ earlier in the week, anything that even appeared as a come on was probably not a good move. He did reach out a hand for the box of pastries, though. She’d bought them already, after all. Why let them go to waste?
Extreme embarrassment was something she was all too familiar with after the previous day.
“That we have.” At the comment about under the covers, Esmeralda did quirk a brow though she had a feeling it was just a comment which was quickly recovered from on Grantaire’s part. Not the best move, but she was used to Grantaire and well… she couldn’t exactly speak thanks to her own actions. “It’s a bit warm for that, don’t you think?”
If there was one thing she was thankful for whenever it was just the two of them, it was the ability to just speak in French and not worry about finding the words. Still. The heat had come back once again and so she wasn’t all that keen on getting under a comforter with someone where body heat would be trapped.
For now though, she walked over to the bed and handed Grantaire the pastries.
R scoffed. ”It’s autumn,” he said, derisive. ”I fail to see how I should be blamed for California forgetting that face. At least sit with me? I’ve been a fool and don’t want to show my face, but I’m feeling the need for company all the same. We can watch a movie or something, if you’d like.” He felt like any silences might be awkward, so something to fill the void would be preferred.
California clearly did not care about how weather should be. Yes they had been there for over a year now, but the way weather worked was still something that she wasn’t used to. And these random heat waves were uncomfortable.
“I’m not blaming you for the weather, just stating a fact. But sitting and watching a movie sounds fine.”
Because while usually she was here to drag Grantaire outside so that he got fresh air, she wasn’t exactly wanting to go out either. So peace offerings and hiding from embarrassment while there was background noise? That worked for her. “Any movie in mind?”
R scooted over on the bed to make more room for her, and reached over to get a DVD case off his desk. He showed it to her - Les Miserables. ”I found this the other day, I can’t believe I never noticed it before. I mean, it’s French, right? I should definitely have noticed.” He had no clue what it was actually about beyond some kind of musical and ‘the guy from those superhero movies and the guy from Gladiator’, but at the very least it would be a comical experience. Musicals were fun, right? (Except that one where everyone is dying of AIDS, but R assumed that one was a fluke.) ”Acceptable?”
It was Esmeralda’s understanding that musicals were supposed to be fun… even one that basically meant ‘The Miserable’. She at least had no real frame of reference for them so what did she know about it? Instead she sat on the bed next to Grantaire and nodded. “Looks acceptable to me.”
They could both use the distraction a musical would bring.
The movie turned out to be a mistake.
It wasn’t so bad itself, though perhaps not something that R would have actively pursued in his own time. A bit slow to start, Gladiator’s singing left much to be desired, not enough of the music was exciting. But he would happily sit through hours of boring sentimental serenading and songs full of regret and the girl from Princess Diaries getting her teeth pulled out if it meant he never had to see what happened next.
He recognized the Musain first. How could he not? It was a bit altered, indeed, from the world of his dreams, but it was enough that he could see that familiar almost home in the shape of the setpiece. Next he recognized the situation, the flurry of movement and the fervor of revolution in every breath. And then…
“Enjolras,” he breathed, his face slack with shock but quickly turning tight with panic. He slammed his laptop closed and put his head in his hands. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to beg a god he didn’t believe in for answers...but he laughed instead. He laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. God, Esmeralda must think him insane, but… “That man is far too old to be Enjolras!” he all but howled.
Esmeralda herself was mostly enjoying the musical. Not her normal type of distraction but she liked watching how characters interacted, themes, things like that. She had no strong opinions about the actors (she also wasn’t really familiar with any of their previous works), she liked the music well enough. Either way, it was good way to waste time and not think about the past week.
Though then she noticed Grantaire’s reaction and quirked a brow. Orange County had its fair share of things that made no sense. She had also seen people talk about finding out that their dreams were some form of entertainment. Meaning Grantaire’s reaction wasn’t necessarily insane to her.
“Enjolras? As in the one from your dreams?”
The comment on too old was… okay she’d had three sets of dreams and her age had varied in them, even as core traits remained the same. But she couldn’t fathom what it would feel like to suddenly see herself on screen.
”The very same!” R wiped at his eyes with the corner of the blanket. ”I suppose there is a bit of a resemblance, but that man could nearly be his father. He looks far too wise for our idealistic idiot of a leader.” He sniffled, a little. He didn’t want to keep watching the movie, but he felt in a way that he had to. He reached over, opened the laptop, and turned the movie on again. Enjolras, in the Musain, Les Amis surrounding him. And there, Marius Pontmercy! How had he missed Marius Pontmercy before! (There had been some sort of bullshit love story going on with...was that the stupid one from Mean Girls? Either way, R had tuned out fairly quickly.)
But there, a man with a bottle, a man mocking those around him, their beliefs, chastised by Enjolras into silence for even a moment… There was little doubt that this man could only be Grantaire. A character made flesh, with little regard for the true man. And what pleasing flesh indeed! It sent him into another fit again, and R turned to Esmeralda with a nearly manic grin. “I. Am. Hot.” What the fuck.
Not knowing what else to do, Esmeralda just nodded some. After all, she didn’t know these people beyond what she would hear Grantaire would tell her about those from his dreams. So she just waited to see if they would continue the musical or not. Which… apparently they were going to do.
Not that they got very far as suddenly Grantaire was turning to her again and… she had no idea on how to handle the grin. It hadn’t been all that hard to figure out which actor was Grantaire based on personality but she still didn’t know what to do with the grin or the comment.
“Okay?”
”It’s weird!” Grantaire said. ”It’s fucking weird. Everything about this is weird but the weirdest is that that is the second most beautiful man I think I’ve ever seen. Look at him. Who could possibly look at that man and think that he was me! A fine form, a handsome face, a beautiful voice - we couldn’t be more different!” He sat back with a huff. Wolverine and Gladiator hadn’t been enough to take him out of the world of the movie, but a beautiful man dressed in his own trappings was apparently what did it. ”This movie is terrible.” He made no move to turn it off.
Was she supposed to respond to the rant? Because as a rule, people were their harshest critics and while the man on the screen did not look like the Grantaire she knew, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t recognize him. Which was weird all on its own. As such, Esmeralda just looked between the screen to Grantaire and then the screen again. Though she did watch him through her peripheral vision.
“We can always find something else if you want.” After all, it wasn’t like Esmeralda was dead set on this movie. But she would let Grantaire make the decision.
”No, no, unnecessary, I’m committed now. Also I want to see where Marius goes with this. He sounds like a puppet and I’m disturbed.” R leaned forward as if it would make the movie make more sense. Perhaps there would be answers if he looked more closely? Were there even answers to a situation this fucked up? Decidedly not. And, maybe, just, just maybe, the ending wouldn’t be the same as it was in his dreams. Maybe there was some improbable chance that he and the others survived.
Of course that wasn’t the case. He nearly shut the movie off when Gavroche climbed into the no-man’s land between the barricade, couldn’t take the sight of someone even resembling Courfeyrac sobbing and screaming and in such distress. It made him nearly sick. But even worse was the desperation, the frantic fear, that permeated the movie as the situation grew more dire. It was everything that R hadn’t been awake to see, the terror and anger and tears of the revolutionary spirit dying. He gasped when Combeferre and the others finally were shot down, and then...it was only he and Enjolras left.
This, at least, he knew. This was familiar. And there was a certain gentleness to it, the soft swell of the music as this too-beautiful Grantaire stumbled forward, stood grim and determined at Enjolras’ side, fell in slow motion as they were pierced with bullets. It was not a bloody affair, not grisly or gruesome, and yet Grantaire knew well how those shots felt. His chest ached and he put his hands to it, over where his own wounds had been.
And the movie continued. The world turned. It was the end of him but it was not the end of the story. Grantaire found that he didn’t much care.
Well she supposed that she couldn’t deny that. They had gotten this far into the movie, why stop now just because it was very odd to see? So Esmeralda resettled as it seemed they had plenty more time to stay there and watch to see how everything turned out.
And… not well. Though she supposed that was to be expected. They had tried to mount a rebellion, school boys who seemed never to hold a gun and so much death, the death of men Grantaire called friends in his dreams. A man desperate to redeem himself and save one person because of love. A man so rigid in his belief of right and wrong that he couldn’t grasp the nuance of people as that rigid belief was proven wrong. And then new days coming, people healing. And then those who took hurt children seen as comedy and getting out unscathed.
People would remain people. Still, she also kept an eye on Grantaire to see how he handled it all, especially everything with his friends and then the end in what she could only assume was a metaphor for heaven.
Grantaire hardly registered the ending, and it was only Enjolras’ face (this strange Enjolras, too old to be the fiery, delicate young man that he’d known in his dreams, but still an Enjolras and thus a beacon, a strip of sunlight in a dark world) appearing on screen that pulled him from staring at his hands and imagining them covered in blood. It was...bizarre. Grantaire was as areligious as they came, a man who believed in nothing at all. But this, this Heaven or whatever it was that was presented, brought him...comfort, almost. The idea that there was somewhere, fictive as it was, where the dream didn’t die and where his friends (and somehow, improbably, he himself) lived on to bask in their glory...as the final note rang out he reached over and rewound the movie so that he could watch it again.
He felt...he didn’t know how he felt. Drained, mostly. He allowed the movie to end, hands once more folded over his chest. He turned to Esmeralda, finally, with a tired sort of smile.
”I’m not very good at picking movies, it seems. You pick the next one.”
Well, Grantaire seemed…. Esmeralda wasn’t completely certain but he seemed relatively okay? That was something. Still, she nodded as she was given control over what to watch next. Not like she had much experience in the choosing of movies herself. Getting up, she went to look at the available movies.
“Disney is supposed to be happy, right?” That was her understanding at any rate. She probably should have been more suspicious of something which mentioned Notre Dame, but it was an animated movie by a company known for things that were happy and well, Paris was still home even if they were here now. Movie picked, Esmeralda didn’t pay attention to the cover much (dancing gargoyles? Sure, why not) and handed it to Grantaire as she got back on the bed.
”Except for the one about the deer,” R said with a shrug. He didn’t much know; Disney movies had not been popular in his home growing up, and as an adult he felt little need to watch them. Their bright colors and hopeful endings sat wrong with him. It felt like lying, and especially lying to children. But he put the movie into his laptop and turned it on.
At this point, anything was probably better than what they had just watched and what it had meant for Grantaire. Neither seemed to know much about Disney and she wasn’t sure what he meant about ‘the one with the deer’ but no matter. If it was something light hearted after what they had just watched? Well, that would be considered a win.
Of course, even in the first song it became clear that this might have been a bad decision. Judge Claude Frollo longed to purge the world of vice and sin, and he saw corruption everywhere except within. Great. Just… great. The fact he was judge meant she knew which set of dreams this was. Though perhaps it was only right. If they had just sat through a musical about Grantaire’s dreams then it was only fair they sit through apparently the Disney version of her own.
Grantaire glanced at Esmeralda. She was a difficult read and he was not a man particularly gifted with emotional acuity and tact, but even he could tell that she was at least a bit uncomfortable. The situation and implications hadn't quite hit him yet (though how he could miss Clopin at the beginning was a mystery, nobody could actually miss that outfit) so he wasn't sure why, but he felt like he should offer her an out. “We can watch the one where everyone's dying of AIDS if you want.” At this point it might actually be the brightest point of the night if they did, it seemed.
“No, it’s fine.” Admittedly, Esmeralda was the type who would say something was fine even if it wasn’t because she was usually trying to help others and didn’t want to worry others. They had sat through Grantaire’s dream life - though his seemed to play a smaller part in a larger story spanning decades. But it wasn’t like it had been easy for him. They could get through this.
Even if each time Frollo was on screen she felt uncomfortable. And while she hadn’t put it together in three sets of dreams, apparently Quasimodo had been in love with her. Awkward. But really even if it was strange seeing herself animated, it wasn’t all that bad. Mostly. Except that Frollo remained a creep. But then it got infinitely worse as Frollo sang about his lust, held onto her scarf, the dancing flame version of her, the statues condemning him as he blamed her for his desires. All she could do was stare in disgust and horror and be completely rigid.
“I…. I think I need to take a scalding shower if I ever wish to feel clean again.” Maybe that musical where everyone was dying of AIDS would be better after all.
Yyyyyyyyyyyyyeah R was calling a hard ‘fuck this’ on this one. Making an executive decision he reached over and closed the laptop, Frollo’s voice cutting out a moment after. The silence felt almost ringing after that. ”I do not blame you, my dear,” he said. ”In fact, I may need one myself. And a stiff drink. You can use my shower if you’d like, I’ll fix us a drink and find a movie that will not make us terribly uncomfortable.” The AIDS movie it was, then. R climbed out of bed and fished out an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts for Esmeralda to wear, if she so chose, offering them to her before leaving the room.
This wasn’t how he’d envisioned this night going, but then, he should know better; the OC liked to do this sort of thing to people, throw them out of whack just when they think that the world is firm beneath their feet. He snorted and poured himself a shot, which quickly went down as fortification before he started to make drinks for he and Esmeralda to share.