Not a Dog's Daughter

For several years now Cosette had been prevailing upon Éponine to come and live with her and her father on the mainland, and for several years now Éponine, being equally stubborn, had declined the offer. She had worked too hard to make an independent life for herself, she said, and she wasn't about to go back to living off of anyone's charity, that she wasn't. But Cosette was nothing if not relentless in her earnest and open-hearted generosity and even Éponine could only withstand that for so long before conceding defeat.

Besides, Cosette was right: she had managed to save up a good bit of money in the last eight or so years (had it really been so many?), enough that she wouldn't have to be dependent on the Fauchelevents if she didn't care to be.

"You have worked so hard for so long," Cosette had said, picking up one of Éponine's hands in both of hers and turning it over to look at the palm and fingertips: not cracked and callused from years of exposure and hard labor as it had once been, but still bearing small scars and marks from that time along with countless little paper cuts and ink stains from handling letters and packages and paperwork all day. Then she continued, before Éponine's residual guilt from their childhood could come bubbling up again, "And no, don't you say it. I know what you've got in your mind to say, and don't you even think it. I forbid it, do you hear me? I'll have none of that, and besides, you know perfectly well that I don't blame you for a thing that happened back then. And in any case, the house is so lonely with only Papa and I, so if you still feel you've got to make up for things, then you can do so by keeping us company."

This she concluded with a bright smile and the air of someone who knew the argument to be comfortably won in her favor. She had also seen fit to introduce into the conversation, ever so innocently, that if Éponine were interested in completing her aducation, why, she knew of several schools in the area with just such a program! (Cosette, when she wished to be, was utterly ruthless in her persuasion.)

And so Éponine was packing away the last of her things that hadn't already been carted off to the Fauchelevent house earlier in the week: a few last pieces of clothing, whatever food she had on hand, her collection of books, the stash of liquor that had somehow shrunk from expansive to modest at some point she had failed to notice. Alouette was helping in the way only a cat could be of assistance: pouncing at stray bits of dust as they caught the afternoon light and occasionally curling up to take a nap as prominently and adorably as possible.

[OOC: Last post for this girl (and also effectively a sendoff for Cosette as well, by proxy). Mostly establishy but also open; I'll likely be glacially slow but I'll make it happen, damn it. Feel free to assume she let you know, if you need a reason to drop by.)

The day had passed largely without event for Éponine, as did most days to tell the truth. It wasn't until right around dinnertime, when she happened to notice the date, that she realized there was anything significant about it. But that was why she was here now, sitting up on the rocks beside the ocean, a bottle of something-or-other alcoholic (she wasn't sure which, she'd just grabbed one at random out of her stash) in her hand and a distant expression in her eyes.

How exactly did one commemorate the day one almost died, anyway? Was it even something one did? Well, it wasn't as if anyone had ever taught her differently, and besides, she wouldn't be here now otherwise; it seemed fitting, even if it was strange.

Besides, her brother, Monsieur Marius, that Courfeyrac fellow and the others in the Rue de la Chanvrerie that night, the others at the barricades of Saint-Martin and Saint-Denis . . . futile as it all might have been in the end, perhaps they deserved a moment to be remembered. She raised her bottle vaguely in the direction of what she imagined might be Paris, took another drink, and went on staring off into the distance.

[OOC: Because it is, after all, the anniversary of the June Rebellion. I had to, as usual. Open if you like!]

If it had been entirely up to her, Éponine would still be at home today, under the covers and probably nursing a massive hangover. (And treating it by drinking more, of course. Was there any other way?)

But she'd developed an absurd sense of obligation to her job and to the people on the island -- it was annoying and inconvenient, it was, and her life would have been much easier without it, but that was just how things seemed to be now and if there was anyone who had Christmas presents left to send off she'd feel even worse for leaving them in the lurch.

Damned inconvenient.

It would take her a lot of coffee to get through today, and anyone trying to pry that coffee out of her hands was going to end up in a fight, but she'd make it. Somehow.

And then go back home and curl up under the covers, likely as anything.

The holiday decorations were up in the lobby again, complete with the fake snowdrifts piling up in the corners, and Éponine certainly hadn't put them there. The bowls of tiny candy canes were cute, though, which was more than she could say for the sweater she had on.

Oh, well. It was warm at least, and god knew she'd worn worse, and besides, she could distract herself from it by making tiny snowmen right there in the lobby, because apparently the indoor snow was especially realistic this year.

Well, the weather was doing strange things again and, as usual, Éponine was out in it. She was distinctly not happy about this, particularly since her work shift was over and she had someplace warm and . . . well, 'dry' wasn't exactly a concern right now, but she hadn't been able to pass up the price she was offered for a private delivery. It was far from the worst thing she'd ever had to do for money, anyhow.

At least, that was what she'd been telling herself at the beginning of the day. By evening, now that she'd been pelted with enough bits of metal that she was sure she'd have bruises despite her coat, and she'd heard her own voice coming from those bits of metal more times than she'd like (not that she remembered saying half those things) she was somewhat less convinced.

"A fine job, keeping lookout barefoot in the snow!" came from the fairly sizable cog that bounced off her shoulder and fell into her mailbag. Éponine suppressed a grimace, fished the thing out, and tossed it away unceremoniously before continuing on her way.

[OOC: Yeah, I couldn't pass up yet another opportunity to use my rain icons. Or to take advantage of the random event for my own nefarious purposes. >.> Personal-journal-ed for nefariousness; open, though, after the initial thread!

ETA: As a warning, the thread in this post contains several references to past abuse.]

The food at the community center had been good, but Éponine hadn't stayed very long at dinner. The whole holiday was a new thing for her, and as it turned out she had rather mixed feelings about it. It was a fine idea, everyone sharing a meal, but her appreciation was tempered by the cynicism of someone who'd gone hungry far too often and after a while, when she found herself wanting to snap at strangers, she decided it was better to sneak off than stay.

Just to add to her mess of conflicted thoughts was the realization that she did actually have things to be thankful for, though again she wasn't convinced that it balanced out the past few years.

It was all a bit much, so when she slipped away from the community center she found herself something to drink, and went off wandering about the island in hopes of distracting herself from what was certain to be a jumble of thoughts that would only spiral down into brooding. Eventually, she ended up by the pond in the park, sitting with her knees tucked up under her chin and singing under her breath as she stared half absently up at the sky.

[OOC: In my defense I started writing this before midnight. Can be open, but I'd probably pick up tags after I wake up 'cause sleepy.]

Éponine had hung back and waited outside the Portalocity office for a few minutes after watching the conversation that had taken place, and after Kennedy left the building. She didn't like how that encounter had looked from her vantage point across the street; she couldn't hear from there, of course, but Kennedy's body language was unmistakable.

Needless to say, Éponine was not thrilled, and sorting through how she felt about the past weekend (what she remembered of it, anyway) had left her feeling as though her head were foggy and a bit numb; dealing with jealousy in a rational way was not something she had the wherewithal to do right now.

Dealing with it in some way that had involved eavesdropping on someone else's portal arrangements first, though . . .

She had some lost ground to make up for as a result of hanging back, but she was good at following people, and anyway it still wasn't hard to trail the girl through town. She walked as if she owned the streets and was talking fairly loudly on her phone, too absorbed in her conversation to notice if she was being followed at a distance just within earshot by a tall, lanky girl who kept slipping behind rickshaws and passersby whenever she could.

"I'm running late, I know, I stopped in Fandom to see if I could clear up the portal issues from the office here and --" She saw the girl pull the phone away from her ear and cover it with her free hand for as long as it took to sigh in frustration. "Look, I'm on my way home right now, okay? I swear. I've got a portal back in an hour, then I'm all yours for the rest of the night."

The girl paused and laughed, then continued in a softer and definitely more seductive tone, "Yeah. Just you and me. It's a date, babe."

Still trailing her at a slight distance, Éponine narrowed her eyes. "Ah, and we already have someone waiting at home, do we, now? That isn't very nice of you, dearie," she muttered to herself.

( Once she was sure that her girlfriend was in a better mood, Kennedy hung up and tucked her phone back into her pocket... )

[OOC: NFI, OOC okay. Preplayed with, uh, me. Because playsforkepesh is evil and enables me to make my characters fight, and then it sort of snowballed from there and then this happened and I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS THREAD TO GET KIND OF DEEP ON ME. HELP.]

You know, the one where the ever-growing katamari of FH people disappears into the wilds of downtown San Diego for a week? Yeah, that one. I'm heading down today, and thus will be more scarce than usual until I get home next Monday.

In the meantime, Éponine (as has already been established) is a wolf cub who's managed to put herself in the care of playsforkepesh because she's a shamelessly manipulative little shit like that. And I've been wanting to turn her into a wolf since day one because OBVIOUS, HI.

Stephanie is still around, though, since I figure I'll be doing a lot of sitting around waiting in a convention center with free wifi, and I have an embarrassing number of portable internet devices, and I can't stay away from you people completely.

Behave yourselves (badly, of course) while we're gone!

There were easier ways to go about acquiring a pet, really, but for one thing, Éponine would feel much better about not hearing the litter of stray kittens mewling pitifully every night outside her window. For another, she'd been raised to understand that if you could get something without having to pay for it, you avoided having to pay for it, and she still saw nothing wrong with that approach to life. She also found the idea of rescuing small animals from the streets vaguely appealing in some way that she couldn't articulate.

Having rounded up a crate lined with a towel, a can of tuna, and a flashlight, and then spent most of the afternoon prowling around her section of the warehouse district to determine where the cat and her kittens were, she was ready to put her plan into motion.

It really did seem like an excessive amount of work and planning to do to acquire a pet, but she suspected it might be worth it. Besides, as far as laying extensive plans to accomplish something went, this wasn't even close to being her most elaborate.

[OOC: For the cat-rescuing accomplice!]

Éponine wasn't one for sentimentality -- or at least, she wasn't likely to admit to it. The way she'd grown up, it was only one more unneeded complication that at best would be an inconvenience and at worst could get you killed. But despite that she'd gone and allowed herself to indulge it, to entertain notions about young Monsieur le Baron Pontmercy who'd once lived next door and even more stupidly let those notions run away with her. And where had that gotten her?

Well, in the end, if she made herself look past all the anger and resentment and desperation even if it was terrifying to do so -- it had gotten her here. Despite the fact that she should have died 181 years ago today she, the last person in the world who ought to deserve a reward like this, was alive.

( Cut for lengthy introspection of a fairly somber variety. )

No, she wasn't a sentimental person. But surely for a few minutes, today, she could allow herself to be.

She tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth gently in the sand as she stared out over the water. She sang, as she always did, snatches of song in her rough voice -- bits of the lullabyes she would sing to Gavroche as a baby when he was crying and Maman couldn't be bothered to see to him, tunes she'd overheard while standing outside wine shops on the boulevards and watching to see when Marius would walk past.

It wouldn't hurt anything if she spared a few minutes to think of them, at least, would it?

[OOC: Because it's Barricade Day. Éponine's views on the insurrectionists of the June Rebellion do not correspond with my own. Warning for mentions of attempted suicide behind the cut.

Mostly establishy, but open if you want, with an SP warning for this afternoon/evening.]