#jehanprouvaire-thepoet

[monsieur-joly]

claimed

Ask me anything and I have to tell the truth

...Well, ask away Jehan.

[morallyambiguousseamstress-blog]

Surprises

The Latin Quarter of Paris, though she'd been there often to visit her brother, was something that was still slightly strange to her, as she had always stayed close to their family home in Tolouse. Wandering about, she looked through her usual shops - dresses, shoes, accessories like jewelry and hats - before deciding that none of these were quite her style and carrying on. Her adventure took up nearly half her day before she realized that she hadn't quite eaten, so she then began to search for food.

"Cafe Musain?" She muttered questioningly to herself, "well, Emile says it's good, but who knows how he feeds himself now." The rumbling of her stomach quieted any protests she may have had, and she stepped in, with nothing on her mind but a nice bisque, and possibly a few slices of bread. When she had retrieved her meal, she asked whether or not there was a quiet place to sit, and she was directed upstairs.

Once there, she was greeted with a very familiar sight and sound - rich laughter and wild curls. Silently, she placed her food on a table in the far corner, behind him so he could not see her movements, and then sneaked up behind him, pressing a finger to her lips so the man sitting opposite him didn't tip him off to her presence. Covering his eyes with her hands, she grinned impishly and whispered, "guess who?"

[thenardierunseen]

Claimed

(A pat on the back.)

So . . . look, uh, you left this notebook in the Luxembourg gardens by the fountains. Didn't really know what to do with it, thought I'd return it. I had a look -- couldn't help it.

You've got talent. I wouldn't be surprised if you're going to be the darling of Paris in a couple of years time. 

Beautiful handkerchief, by the way . . .

[gavrochethegamin]

He does not suffer from the joy famine, our dear revolutionary gamin. Happy birthday Gavroche! I hope you have a wonderful day and we'll all be eager to see you to wish you happy birthday in person. you are a busy little fellow though, so I hope that Heroic Couplet makes up for me if I do not see you.-Jehan

What on earth is all this?

I’m busy and somehow my friends have found out that I was born today twelve years ago and left home, geez, four now. I’ve been out of the hell hole for four years! You guys have been the best family ever ever. Well, no, first and always will be Eppie but I don’t think none of you will be upset over tha’!

Thanks fer the birthday wishes! Still wanna know who ratted me out. Prolly dad or Monty or mebbe even Eppie. I’ll have to snoop aroun’ when I’m finally back.

(I will be back! I will! Not tomorrow, but I think I’m finally free on Wednesday. Keep your fingers crossed.)

[monsieur-joly]

Deny me or Raise me

Deny Me

Joly laughingly pushed Jehan away, stopping him from from covering Joly’s face with soft teasing kisses. Normally he wasn’t one to protest but they had been smoking together for several hours now and really all Joly wanted was a nap before Bossuet and Musichetta got home.

Jehan pouted, sticking his lower lip out dramatically. “Please.” Joly shook his head but hooked his feet around Jehan’s waist, drawing the poet down so that he was laying with his head pillowed on Joly’s chest. Joly gently patted his head a couple of times.

“Sleep now. No kissing.”

[beaute-du-diable]

When my restless thoughts keep me from sleep/ It is your eyes that I do see/ When the stars shine above/The sweetest taste the reddest apple/Are the sights that come to me/Tempting and teasing eyes of the morning

Ma belle, while that is lovely poetry, it’s four in the morning… will you please come to bed?

[beaute-du-diable]

Courfeyrac didn't even really wait until the ink had dried on his response to start gathering his things. The hesitance in the letter he'd received from Jehan, the obvious discomfort made him anxious to be there as soon as possible.

He made his way to Jehan's home nearly before the gamin carrying the letter did. Regardless, he had still given the boy a few sous, and when the kid went to give them back, he breathlessly told him to keep them. After all, he'd still done his job.

Opening the door, he recalled that Laurette was not there, and therefore he didn't have to censor himself. "Jehan, ma mie, I'm here!"

[gavrochethegamin]

((Unfreezing the time from the thread the other day in which Gavroche was going to go visit Jehan. He was convinced he had seen Jehan in a dress…))

The sickness had kept him away for far too long and once he found his feet Gavroche was about his city in no time. He had been hoping that the strange things that his friends did or the bizarre happenings would eventually end during his recuperation, but this didn’t seem to be the case with Jehan. Of course, he couldn’t be sure that he had seen the poet flitting about the streets of Paris in a dress but it sure did look that way. For his part Jehan had tried to still the boy’s questions and had invited the gamin over for a meal. Never one to turn down hospitality from any of the Amis, Gav happily accepted but figured he’d also search around for any evidence of cross-dressing going on. He’d already borne witness to both R and Courf’s attempts to dress in the other sex’s clothing and while it didn’t make sense it proved amusing to tease.

It isn't long after that he is at the building in which Jehan resides. He's been seen about there before so he doesn't get too many awful glares or nasty words from those who might otherwise not want him there. Quickly enough he's up the stairs and pounding on the poor poet's door. The thought that the man may be occupied with something else, be it writing or entertaining, hasn't occurred to him.

"JEHAN! I'm here! You better not be wearing a dress!" And yes, he is shouting loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

[gavrochethegamin]

Wait. What. Why? Can someone tell me why Jehan is dressed like a girl and holding a parasol? I just glanced over my shoulder an' I'm pretty darn sure that was him with Courfeyrac but I'm not sure. Is he really wearing a dress? What is it with all the men dressing up like ladies? Won't catch me in a dress. Ever. Gross.

[gavrochethegamin]

Payback

My friends have been having little fits of writing angst. I've been warning them I was gonna pay 'em back and now I am. They're not gonna be happy with me. Oh well!

    Eponine was dead.

  Marius hadn’t waited for her body to cool, much less five minutes, before asking Gavroche to run an errand. It was in poor taste, but the urchin’s thoughts were not his own; against his will his mind played an infinite loop of his sister dying in the arms of a man who seemed to quickly forget that she sacrificed herself so that he might live. The child felt as if his body wasn’t even under his control; like an automaton it moved because it needed to by its very nature, but the boy felt like he was floating in water. He no longer felt tethered by any sort of bond to this realm. Not dead. Not alive. He existed somewhere between the two planes while his soul seared inside his chest and ran rivers of fire through his veins. There was only the taste of ash in his mouth.

Running as fast as his legs could carry him the gamin did not feel the accompanying rush of joy or bounding freedom that he often associated with such journeys. Gavroche’s instinct was to put as much distance as he could between himself and his sister’s lifeless body. How could he move and breathe while she lay so unnaturally still?

  I’ll never hear her sing again.

  How often I teased her to distraction.

How often I teased her about Marius.

How often I teased her for her singing.

  All he could see was her large dark eyes and her smiling lips. All he could feel was how immeasurably vast the world seemed and how truly insignificant he was without the one person he loved above any other he ever knew. His bright star had fallen to the earth. She would be buried and his heart would follow her to the grave.

The errand was a blur. He remembered Cosette’s father giving him advice about not returning to the barricade, but by that point Gavroche was beyond listening. The ragged boy had only half listened to the well-intended advice, but he needed to return to his sister. He could not and would not abandon Eponine’s body to the ungentle mercies of the hyenas that roamed the streets; he would not see her carted off and sold as some cadaver for a rich student to rip apart. The world had finally taken everything that he valued.

  I’ll be damned if they take that too.

  There was nothing more the child wanted to do but to keen and shriek, but he wouldn’t allow himself that extravagance. There was no time. He was weary from the journey he had made and from the grief that sat in his bones. As the flood of exhaustion and pain began to gnaw at his soul he felt his own descent that night. He could not live without her, but he would not give up hope for his friends. They still needed him for a little while longer. He couldn’t rest. It wasn’t time.

  The break of dawn brought no relief as the sun burned red and streaked the sky with a rosy haze. Gavroche didn’t often enjoy beauty for its own sake, but he was captivated by such a striking sunrise. It was only fitting that Eponine would bring such an exquisite sky to look down upon them after a wretchedly endless night of misery and rain.

The peace did not last and with the break of day the war started fresh and merciless. The people had abandoned them, but this did not surprise the gamin. He didn’t expect most of the populace to be as brave and daring as those with whom he associated. Inside the inn, the Amis were taking stock of the situation and the wild child of the streets overhead their murmurs of concern. They were running out of ammunition.

 Beyond the barricade were the bodies of the fallen soldiers. Perhaps once he would have been morbidly curious about the corpses, but now they were so much meat with belongings his friends and he could use.  The boy knew what needed to be done and without asking for permission he grabbed a basket from the inn. He was willing to risk everything to save his brothers-in-arms.

 Gavroche was over the barricades before any of the students could react properly. Confident in his youth, the daring boy pulled off his cap and signaled to his friends to show that he was safe even as they urgently ushered him back to the safety of their faction. Instead of words to reassure his friends he smiled and was in that moment transcendent. He was no longer of the earth and his smile was a smile of the gloriously damned.

  Watch me now Eponine. Watch me fly.

  Battle smoke still clouded the ground and covered him. He didn’t have much time, but he didn’t need much for what he was going to do. Just as he began to creep through the bodies and recover ammunition from the fallen a round of gunfire exploded around him. Unhurt, he blinked away the fear and stood up in defiance of the guard. They would not make him run in fear. He would face them bravely with scorn upon his lips.

The guardsmen met the traitor with another explosive volley, but Gavroche was unperturbed and began to sing his disdain.

“They’re ugly a Nanterre,

It’s the fault of Voltaire;

And stupid at Palaiseau,

It’s the fault of Rousseau.”

  He’d lost count of the shots fired at him, but his song seemed to draw more ire as another bullet sped his way and narrowly missed him. This stroke of luck caused him to become very cocky. He was fast, he was brilliant and he felt vibrant.

The mockery kept on and he reveled in the moment. The intoxication of simultaneous fear and exuberance buoyed him and brought new verses to his lips.

  “I’m no lawyer, I declare,

It’s the fault of Voltaire.

I’m nothing but a sparrow,

It’s the fault of Rousseau.”

  How long this went on he wasn’t sure. Gavroche rode each wave like an ecstatic given some fresh insight. He could feel his sister beside him as he taunted and teased. He could feel the anxiety from his brothers and would now and then wave to them in jubilation to raise their spirits. If only they could see the world the way he did this moment of his life. The sharp colors that shown so intense that his eyes ached from the beauty. He felt each of his steps and every exhale of breath with sudden new clarity.

  “Joy is my character,

It’s the fault of Voltaire;

Misery is my trousseau,

It’s the fault of Rousseau.”

  Just as a bird learning to take flight can be cut down by a cat so too can a gamin fall and plunge to the earth. The game was drawing to its inevitable conclusion.

 A well placed bullet finally caught the lad and he felt himself fall. It was a unique sensation this burning and stinging. Somewhere behind him he could hear the men on the barricade cry with one voice and it saddened him that he could not make them happier. He had failed them. He had failed his sister. But he would not fall meekly to the side or crawl back for safety. Not Gavroche. The urchin struggled to sit upright and that’s when he felt the wet covering his face. Vaguely he wondered if what he felt was merely more rain or if Eponine’s tears were washing down upon him.

  I’m coming home ‘ponine.

  The worst is over.

I will never go away.

And we will be together every day.

  Those soldiers who saw him were met not with anger or bitterness but a silvery peal of laughter. The child who loved his liberty more than his life remained his own creature to the end. He had chosen this end and it was fitting that he should go away now. Even then, at his last, the final echoes of his song filled the vacated street.

  “I have fallen, I swear

It’s the fault of Voltaire,

Or else this hard blow

Has been dealt by . . .”

  A second bullet found its way home and the boy fell backward with a smile on his lips.

  One bullet for ‘ponine and another for me.

 Darkness overtook him and he stirred no more.

  Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.

  Gavroche woke with a start and drenched in cold sweat. Ever since the movie he’d been plagued by such nightmares. Instead of seeking out any of his friends for solace he sang, as he did in his dream, and eventually sleep retook the lonely boy.

  ((I don’t read or speak French. The translations of the song from the book I’ve used from several sources but they are not mine and I do not claim ownership of them.))

[gavrochethegamin]

Jehan!

Just as I was getting used to having Courfeyrac and Joly around guess who else showed up? Jehan! Our poet has found us at long last and everyone, including the Inspector, is telling me he's the real deal. I'm so happy that we're finally finding all the Amis!