CHARACTERS: Thenardiferre. That would be Éponine & Combeferre.
LOCATION: Their room.
WARNINGS: Discussions of blood, death, disaster, mentions of sexual abuse, physical abuse, yeah. Dead French Things.
SUMMARY: The honeymoon period is over.
NOTES: if anyone wants an additional thread in this same vein with either Eponine or Combeferre, don't hesitate to say so!
--
Since they'd reunited in the halls before the last jump, Eponine had been avoiding Combeferre as best as she could. They shared the same room, still, the same bed, and they were in love. But it was different now. He'd seen her weaknesses. Her worst moments. And she'd seen his. He had to hate her, knowing better now. Be disgusted by her, what she'd done.
As for her? She'd seen a world that hadn't existed before. A world where people loved and cared for you. A world where people worried when you were ill, or had gone missing, or suddenly stopped making noise. She'd felt a man's life drain from under her hands, but instead of terror, it had been sorrow she'd felt. All on his behest.
What did you do with that?
For Eponine, the answer is easy: Drink. Avoid the topic. Avoid your boyfriend. She'd been drinking nearly non-stop and sleeping much of every day, face to the wall so she wouldn't have to see Michel, or anything. She was stiff in bed when he came in next to her. And she spoke with him, if she had to. She was courteous, quiet, to-the-point. All of these were things she'd never experienced before. But she knew where she'd seen these things all together. She'd seen them in the Lark.
And now here was Eponine, following in her footsteps, jumping if a noise was too loud, always ready to flee. She was not a wolf, but a bird, all too eager to take flight.
So she cooks, she cleans, she lays in bed and refuses to speak, or eat, or anything other than drink. What little life she'd been given back was slowly draining from her eyes.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
accomplished
anxious