Enjolras isn't a statue, really (solo_patria) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-02-05 21:36:00 |
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Current mood: | contemplative |
Entry tags: | !complete, enjolras |
"Revolutionists should always be hurried; progress has no time to lose.”
Who: Enjolras , some npc techs, dream versions of the barricade boys
When: February 5th
Where: An Imaging Center
What: A CAT Scan and a memory
Notes: dialogue sections lifted from canon!
“...Apollon ...Enjolras?” A tech called from the waiting room, mispronouncing his name as always, with the S included and ending on a sort of trail. Enjolrass... An asshole with his name. Enjolras smirked at the thought as he got up to make his way into the locker room where they had him change into a gown, leaving everything but his glasses and socks behind for now.
Somehow, now that he’d spent over half a month wearing one of these things, Enjolras didn’t even mind that he was in a gown again, and walking in front of people. They were all medical professionals here anyway, ready to reassure him, and Joly, that he wasn’t completely crazy here. Then again, he’d had another singing dream, and that had been what convinced him to listen to Joly and go in for the scan so...who knew, right?
“This way.” The tech added, when he’d gotten out of the changing room, directing him to a lab, where they went ahead with placing an IV, one that Enjolras winced for, as they tried to find a really good vein and flushed it with saline, then sent him off to wait again, until the machine was ready.
Finally, at last, he was lead back into a chilly exam room, with a huge table, jutting out of a donut shaped tube. And okay, here, he clenched a little. It had seemed like such an easy thing to promise Joly when it hadn’t been starring Enjolras in the face, but right now? Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to going through the tube at all.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. The tech, in here was , thankfully, old enough not to flirt with him, or even think about it, directed, nodding toward the table. “We’re here to get a picture of your brain, so you’re going to lie here on the table, completely still, I’ll give you some instructions, and then we’ll stop to inject the dye to get a better look. If you’d climb up there on your back...” She added, helping position him when Enjolras was unsure. “The doctor who sent us your referral wanted a lot of pictures, but it shouldn’t take too long.” she added, before stepping out of the room to start the films, leaving Enjolras in relative silence, but for the whirring of the machines, which didn’t put him to sleep exactly, but alllowed his mind to drift.
It was the 1830’s again and Enjolras was once again at the Cafe Musian, ensconced there in the backroom with his friends, sending them out on assignments, and allowing no one else but his closest lieutenants, and for some reason, Grantiare, through.
They were still waiting for the sign that Enjolras had been singing about, the sign from the dream the other night, but something was on the move anyway, or it seemed it would be happening soon, and well, it was best to be prepared for these things. When the revolutionay apocalypse came through, he wanted for them to be ready, and to have gathered the support of others too.
“‘It is proper that we should know where we stand and on whom we may count.” He told the others, explaining his goals in calling the meeting ,and the point in seeing them here today. It was significant, he thought, that even Courfeyrac had shut up, and was listening. He seemed to do more of it here than he did in the waking world, and Enjolras wondered what that was, if the politics had ceased to move him the same way, or what, but he’d keep an eye on the Courfeyrac of the modern day, see how much he could inspire him towards.
“ If combatants are required, they must be provided.” He continued on, thinking of the task ahead. His friends, valued as they were, and as many guns as he knew Combeferre had on hand, always eager to be prepared , and to hold things for the others, could not do the work of revolution alone, though he needed them now, to get to the others. “ It can do no harm to have something with which to strike. “ He added, giving Combeferre a small glance that was almost a smile. He’d take a fully waking moment to wonder how he knew all this, but for now, he was taking it for granted and going ahead with the rest.
“Passers-by always have more chance of being gored when there are bulls on the road than when there are none. Let us, therefore, reckon a little on the herd. How many of us are there?”
It was better to know that straight off, know what he and his friends would be doing at the time, to know how to best mitigate their damage and use them to their advantage. He’d get the others for their input on the patterns of movement of course, but the point of what they were doing was clear at least in his mind, and there was not much time to lose when one considered it.
“There is no question of postponing this task until to-morrow. Revolutionists should always
be hurried; progress has no time to lose.” Enjolras continued his explanation, giving the group a look that was...close to the one he’d speared Marius with in the singing dream he’d had. Too much was at risk here.
They would very probably, and more than likely give their lives in the fight for a republic, and he understood that, but while they gave their lives, there must be some chance that the thing they died for would still be achieved. They had to know, and they had to know NOW, with no surprises in store. “ Let us mistrust he unexpected. Let us not be caught unprepared. We must go over all the seams that we have made and see whether
they hold fast.”
So now it was time to get the others to go off to speak to others who might stand beside them, who they could at least speak to and hope to influence. ...Dimly, Enjolras was aware that the machine was stopping, that the tech was saying something and felt a hot flush starting in his arm and spreading through his body as the whirring started up again, but was too busy paying attention to what was going on in the other world. Courfeyac he sent to the Polytechnique students, Feuilly to the Glaciere, wherever that was, Enjolras would google when they let him out of here, Combeferre had already promised him, interesting word there, promised, and he wondered what it said about the kind of friends they were there, that he’d go to Picpus, again more things to google, Bahorel would hit up the Estrapade, Jehan was apparently a mason and could go and gauge the mood with them.
Jehan was a mason. Enjolras took a few moments to let that one sink in. Nope. Still having trouble processing it. Joly, he’d send to the medical school. Everyone there knew him, and he was fairly well liked there, though, being Joly, how could he not be? Enjolras thought, and he’d be sure to come back with details, extremely detailed ones, on the state of things. Bossuet, he’d send to the courts, and the young lawyers, who he technically should have been joining by now, if not for that turn with Marius. Enjolras had his own destination , and that took care of everything, just about., except for the marble workers, painters, sculptors, and artists at the Barriere du Maine. His first thought there was Marius, but....You
Marius in this day and age, apparently wasn’t as close to them as he was here. Marius had been avoiding them for ages, leaving this completely open except for, well. ...Grantaire was at his elbow, practically volunteering for it, begging Enjolras to consider him, saying that he’d do anything for him.
The thought of that was sort of...slightly disturbing, especially even more so when Grantiare lit up at Enjolras agreeing to try sending him there, ran home to change into a red waistcoat and came back to show him, to attempt to get him to like him or... Enjolras made a mental note never to do that to Grantaire here. Ever, as he set out on his errand. They could do this, together, his friends and he. His friends with their own ideals, their goals and knowledge, which had led them to seek something more, together. They would bring the revolution, together, perfectly in place, with all of them combined.
All right, so he was worried about Grantaire, and, when his daydream/whatever it was skipped a bit, Enjolras wasn’t so surprised to find that he had gone to check on him, see what the cynic was actually doing, how he’d gotten on. ...And then he found him. Playing dominos. He wanted to say something, was about to say it, when....
“You’re all finished and your doctor should have the results soon.” The tech informed him, handing him back his glasses, and directing him back out toward the locker rooms, leaving him to wonder about what had happened next, and whether or not the price he’d been thinking of was too high. Even here and now, comfortable as he was within his life, he doubted anything could be too high in the face of what he hoped to come.