filleauloup | The Streets of Fandom, Monday Evening

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.]

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This girl was younger than the one she remembered, more of a schoolgirl than a fine young lady, but there it was: the confirmation Éponine hadn't wanted. Which, she thought bitterly, meant that it had probably been inevitable.

Because of course it was inevitable that Cosette should end up here, should get the classes and the castle to live in while Éponine only looked on from outside. Again. Well, served her right for being stupid enough to hope.

"You oughtn't to be out here," she spoke up in the darkness, confident that her harsh voice wouldn't be recognizable. "Weather like this won't be very kind to your pretty little face."

What was she doing? She had no idea whether she wanted to scare Cosette off or help her.

Bizarrely, that was exactly the jolt Cosette needed to snap out of her haze before despair got the better of her.

"I should think I'm old enough to know how to take care of myself," she said, sounding mildly offended as she squinted into the darkness past the streetlamp.

Éponine laughed harshly. "No doubt, you've done awfully well for yourself, haven't you? It isn't everyone who has your luck."

Right on cue, another piece of clockwork fell from the sky.

"We've had an education, my sister and I. We weren't always what we are now."

Scowling in the darkness, she kicked it away.

"How you talk, as if you know anything about me," Cosette exclaimed, but some of her indignation was blunted by what she'd just overheard from the falling clockwork. She hadn't made any kind of conscious connection between 'my sister and I' and the 'Ponine and Zelma' from her younger self's earlier words, just a mild and indescribable sense of unease.

Another piece of clockwork fell, and with it came the younger Cosette's voice, shrill and terrified: "Forgive me! Madame! Madame! I won't do it anymore!"

"What is it to me whether somebody picks me up tomorrow on the pavement of the Rue Plumet, beaten to death with a club by my own father?" Éponine's voice demanded from the bit of metal that fell a split second later.

Éponine moved out of the shadows into the circle of lamplight, but only partway.

"Perhaps I do," she said, watching Cosette for any sign of recognition.

There was no such sign -- it would have been a good year and a half later that she and her father would have visited the Jondrette garret, completely unaware of who they were really dealing with -- but Cosette couldn't stifle a sharp gasp of surprise. Could you blame her, when someone had appeared out of nowhere so suddenly it was as if this figure had just formed out of the shadows?

Either way, she definitely wouldn't have recognized Éponine; the vague memories she had of the Thénardier sisters were of two neat, pretty, and spoiled children, impossibly irreconcilable with the somewhat haggard-looking girl glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.

"You haven't the slightest idea about me," she insisted. The assumption of familiarity sparked her indignation, and that was good; better to be angry than to give in to the (very real) terrors of her childhood. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but I won't have anything to do with it. Good evening."

Maybe it was time to get inside after all, before this silly metal rain upset her any further; Cosette paused just long enough to give the girl a sarcastically polite nod before turning sharply and hurrying back toward the school.

Éponine watched her go, torn between visceral satisfaction and a sense of guilt that was, in her opinion, absolutely stupid.

"She's likely to get lost," she commented to herself in a low voice, "new here and all, and running around in the dark." Maybe she ought to follow Cosette, and make sure she got back to the school all right? Maybe. After a minute or two she started along the same route Cosette had taken, intent on doing just that.

But what would be the point of that? Some kind of self-imposed penance?

It was stupid of her to even try, so after two or three blocks she broke off and doubled back toward home.

The Streets of Fandom, Monday Evening

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