(no subject)

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Spring has come to Milliways, in full warmth. The grass is greening, and the trees are in bud, and so forth. There are even trees in the mountains that are covered in pink flowers.

Were they there last year? Were they, in fact, there last week? Enjolras is not entirely certain on either count.

On the other hand: Milliways. He'll ask Bahorel, or Combeferre or Joly, if he thinks to bother, but he may not.

At any rate, he's sitting at the base of one of the pink trees, on a convenient flat rock. He has a book with him, as usual, but he's currently ignoring it in favor of an abstraction of thought.

Comments

[pierregringoire]

That can certainly be a thing that's happening in Enjolras' head! It doesn't bother Djali at all!

But what's happening as far as Djali is concerned is that this coat is turning out to be a nice natural fiber that goes very well indeed with the grass.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Did something just tug at his coat?

[pierregringoire]

Yes, long enough ago that Djali now assumes the coat is a sort of rough ground cover, and is really going after it.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

"Damn it--"

Sorry, Djali; the tasty rough ground cover has just been yanked sharply away as its owner stood up abruptly.

"Shoo!"

[pierregringoire]

Djali bleats in reproach.

Fine, boring human who doesn't give her pettings or treats or praise. Whatever.

She doesn't so much saunter off as amble away as though Enjolras weren't there.