milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the light.

...

Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes...
Tomorrow comes!]

He can hear a distant song, the fading echo of drums, and there is a light that is too bright to be of the world he knows. He stumbles toward it, eventually all but falling through a doorway into...

Well, into he isn't sure where. He looks around him. Surely his comrades should be with him also, if this is indeed the afterlife the priests often spoke of. But there are no faces he recognizes, and he does not believe that the world beyond would take the form of a wine shop even if such a place did exist.

Bloodstained, tattered, smelling of gunpowder, he weaves his way toward the bar, feeling an overwhelming need to sit.

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"Have they been good to you?"

He may not always have been good at showing it, but he was fond of Gavroche.

"The best", he says with total sincerity. "They took care of me, before and after, never wanted a single thing in return. And now you're here, mon frere."

"For the foreseeable future, it would seem, yes. I am encouraged to hear you have found a place for yourself."

"There are rooms upstairs people stay in if they can't leave or don't want to", Gavroche tells him. "And when I talk to Tom - he adopted me - maybe you can come to stay with us."

"We shall see," Enjolras says, not entirely sure how he feels about the prospect of accepting charity from strangers. "I suppose I must find some way of living here."

He frowns. "Or...not living."

Gavroche offers a crooked grin.

"In this place, there isn't a lot of difference. The dead eat and sleep like anybody else. The tabs run for months or years before they get called in, and there's ways for most people to make money. Advertise services on the bulletin board, serving at the bar..."

"What services would I offer?" Enjolras asks, realizing for the first time that he has very few practical skills.

"Teaching?" Gavroche suggests. "You know things. I could only read anything when I came here 'cause of you and Les Amis."

"Is there much call for that in such a place?" He doesn't imagine many people come here to learn.

"Not sure", he has to admit. "There are a few people with kids around, or sometimes kids on their own. Or you could offer to write things out for people nicely. Like a scribe."

"I will have to look into the possibility, then. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He grins. "Next important thing. The Bar's sort of alive. She doesn't move, but she thinks and communicates by napkin when she wants to, and serves people on her own when she's not sleeping. You can get anything you want that's not alive from her - food, drink, change of clothes, a room key..."

"The Bar is...alive?"

He shouldn't be surprised, but...

"Sort of", Gavroche repeats. "Not alive like something that needs air and food and water, but she's got a mind of her own. And a telepathic thing with the chief barman."

"Telepathic? Feeling what he feels?"

"And they share thoughts. He always knows what's going on when she does. His name's Mike."

He decides not to mention the part where Mike used to be a giant anthropomorphic turtle.

That is probably wise at the moment.

"This is quite the fantastical place we've landed ourselves in."

Gavroche chuckles.

"And you've only been here ten minutes. Wait until you meet some of the patrons."

Enjolras smirks.

"I may need something stronger than water..."

"Probably", he agrees cheerfully. "Just don't let anybody talk you into into trying Atlantean. It's stronger than it looks."

"No, I think I will stay to wine." He had always abhorred Grantaire's drunkenness.

"It is a wine, I think, but rare and old and... special. Except nothing's really rare here." He nods. "Sure you'll stick to just the water for now?"

"Yes, I think I will."

He looks around the room slowly, trying to take it all in.

"Where does everyone come from?"

"Anywhere and everywhere", Gavroche tells him. "Worlds and times before and after ours, and some that aren't supposed to have really existed at all. I've met Greek gods."

"Greek gods? Have we found our way to the underworld, then? Or is this Olympus?"