milliways_bar | Entries tagged with eponine thenardier

Eponine has a habit that she hasn't told her brother about - a habit of asking Bar to store things for her. Bits of money and sometimes bits of non-perishable food.

She remembers too well what it feels like to be deprived of sustenance.

When she enters with a small billfold of lace, she's therefore surprised when Bar presents her with a piece of cake. It smells...interesting.

You can find her poking said cake with a fork thoughtfully.

[OOC: Open 'til it scrolls off the front page!]

i_am_your_host

By New Year's Eve, everyone who has ordered something directly from the Bar has received an invitation to Emcee's party, no matter what their means of communication. Or if they've perused the notice board, they've seen a flyer making note of it. Along with emphasizing a fun, casual, and inclusive atmosphere, the invitation provides directions on how to find said celebration: just follow the arrows.

On the night of the party, neon-colored arrow decals that light up if stepped on have been placed on the floor, pointing to the elevator. In the elevator, more arrows point to the button for the garage. And in the garage, even more arrows lead down the aisles between cars, planes, and spaceships. Not sure where you're going? Several of Jay's hive drones are flitting around, making sure no one gets lost. They all guide guests toward a modest, single craft-sized hangar. Except tonight, it's not housing an aircraft (which is now outside next to it, with the note Property of Sahaal on it), but Emcee's New Year's Eve party.

Closed red velvet curtains hang in the wide, open doorway. Pinned to the curtains is a sign that reads WELCOME, and under that, BE KIND. It's an attitude that Emcee hopes is not too difficult to adhere to.

Step through, won't you?

Inside, the party is likely in full swing.

Above, twin mirror balls, one at each end of the room, spin in tandem, casting twinkling lights over everything. The light shifts colors every so now and then, from gold to pastels to rainbows. Placed among the gantries are devices that will release silver confetti onto the crowd below at midnight. The walls are draped with more velvet curtains, hiding the cold steel and providing decorative sound insulation, as upbeat music pumps through the speakers.

On the back wall there's a large digital clock counting down the time.

Meanwhile, Emcee is around, wearing impeccable makeup that will most likely be sweated off before the end of the night; tight, cropped black leather trousers; and a white tank top with the word HOT spelled out with tiny red kisses.

Find your host anywhere, anywhere at all, if he doesn't find you first.

[OOC: Millitimed to New Year's Eve, but open forever! Threadhop, mingle, arrive as couples, have fun!]

quick_clean_pure

This really wasn't a great day to get chased by the cops.

Not that any day was a great day for it, but still.

Graverobber hustled through a long string of alleyways with a sense of urgency and annoyance. Really, he'd done pretty well this week, his pockets filled with a decent amount of change. If he'd been smart, he would have rested on his laurels, had a good night out with some satisfied customers. Going back to the cemetery for one last supply haul had been a little greedy, come to think of it.

And, naturally, he'd made it about ten feet into the graveyard before a GeneCo SWAT team descended and he was sprinting back the way he'd came.

He could hear the sound of boots getting closer than he'd like, even if he knew his way around the back alleys better than most rent-a-cops. Graverobber was getting closer to his own normal haunts, and he really didn't want police swarming his usual set of dumpsters and trashcan-fire campgrounds. In a split-second decision, he tried an unfamiliar door and lucked out to find it open. He ducked inside and slammed it shut behind him, figuring he could find a place to hide in whatever warehouse/machinery/abandoned hellhole he'd just broken into.

And then he looked and saw....a bar?

Not even a shitty dive bar like he might have anticipated finding, a nice bar. Since when did his area of town have one of those?

Stranger still, he couldn't hear any boots behind the entrance he'd came in, or the sound of anyone running past. Weird.

The more he looked, the more he got the vibe that he'd stumbled on something more out-of-the-normal than he could have reasonably expected. If nothing else, the spectacular view of the stars was something he'd never seen before, not in the light-polluted shitscape he'd known his whole life.

But, more important matters had to be focused on: he should probably act like he was supposed to be there, right? Or at least not act like someone who was kind-of, sort-of, absolutely a wanted criminal fleeing the law. Probably also not like someone who had a dozen vials of grade-A painkillers jangling around the inside of his coat.

So, for the moment, he just sidled up to the bar top like he'd just happened to wander in completely on purpose. If the bartender asked, he'd order a cheap beer and act casual until he knew where the hell he was and whether the cops were about to barge in.

rudderless

Eponine has been around. Busy, ceaselessly so lately, but around.

She has a cocky strut as she emerges from the portrait portal to the House of Arch. Laden with books crammed with bits of yellow and blue note paper tucked up under her chin, holding a large blue platter in her hand and dressed casually - but with her ubiquitous mob cap in place. She looks up and raises an eyebrow at her surroundings.

"Not the plan, but I'll work with it," she declares.

Eponine has become, over the past few months, just the thing she wished to become when she was playfully taunting Marius on the streets of Paris all those months ago - a student. A student delayed, who has graduated from picture books to chap books to young adult novels. According to her tutors she's near around to where a girl her age ought to be, brainwise.

She'll always be a bit too skinny, a bit too unparticular about her food. A bit too haunted. But normal, still, on some level.

Gavroche won't give up on her, of course. Together, they have broadened her knowledge. She knows how many cups are in a pint. She knows the date and place where Marie Antoinette was beheaded. She's added two and two and subtracted the whole.

And, even though it's not a necessary quality in a young girl her age anymore, she's begun to learn how to cook.

Therefore - placing her platter, heaping with brownies that seem to at least be passably edible onto the table - She approaches the notice board with one of the markers from her books and takes up a pen, and soon tacked right in the middle there is the following bit of doggerel:

Answer the girl in the red cap this riddle
and a treat you shall have:

A farmer has twelve cows and four chickens. How many didn't?

A silly riddle - one she'd learned from the first of the chap books that Gav bought her - but one that leaves her proud. It's written in a fine hand, one a lady would be proud of, and spelled out carefully. She sits down at her table with a cup of wine, and waits for a clever curious someone to unburden her. Or even a familiar face.

Progress. It happens slowly, but it happens for us all.

[OOC: I just got back from seeing the latest touring company of Les Mis and guess who got loud. Open forever, catch her at the board or catch her at her table. Also I totally need a link into the crackchat discord so anyone who has one can you dm me?]

skepticgirl1

When the door opens today, a thirteen-year-old girl walks into the Bar. She’s wearing black combat boots and a red plaid skirt and a sweater, and most of her attention is initially focused on the Android smartphone in her hand. Her black hair is pulled back in an entirely serviceable ponytail.

And then she crosses into the Bar, and her cell signal dies, and she already has the door closed before she realizes—not until she hits a button to send a message, in fact—and she looks up.

Her violet—and yes, they really are purple, to her private embarrassment—eyes widen with surprise as she takes in the sight of a Bar where she was definitely expecting her family’s quarters on the Army base in Germany. Carefully she lets her backpack slide from her shoulders so she can swing it easily by one of the shoulder straps. After all, if she does need it, it will make a great weapon.

Her laptop isn’t even inside it right now, so it’s perfectly safe to just use the textbooks.

(She just likes to be prepared. She won't actually hit anyone. Probably.)

femme_a_soldat

From some corner of the bar, Madame Thénardier emerges, with a stack of books, which she deposits with the bar.

Also, she leaves a message.

To my children, Gavroche and Éponine:

I have gone back to Montfermeil, as my door returned and I mean to pick up my life again, with you in it. Who knows, we might even go to Paris and have a grand future. Here are my books; I liked them and can't take them along, so perhaps you will enjoy them.

Your mother, Jeanne-Marie Thénardier

Then, she just steps out of the door, and is gone.

[[OOC: Not for tagging -- just to establish she has left.]]

street_sparrow

Gavroche is sprawled out in a chair by the fireplace, covered in dogs.

Jo's head is on his knee and Franz is lying heavily on his feet, so that he can't get up just now. He calls to a waitrat to order another drink.

Two waitrats return, bringing him his drink - and a stack of books and a note, besides.

He begins to frown as he reads it, his feelings mixed.

rudderless

Here's a face that hasn't been seen in awhile.

A face that is, in fact, partially hidden among the shadows of the rafters. She's got some thinking to do, about events she'll reluctantly speak of if asked.

There is one easy way to detect Eponine's presence; an occasional sprinkling of peanut shells upon the unfortunate heads of those beneath her. There's no reason for her to be hungry and thoughtful at the same time.

She knows her way around, after all.

Eminently botherable.

heartbeneathastone

[oom: sometime not long after his arrival, marius and eponine run into each other, which isn't easy for either of them.]

stillwaitingformyturn

[Out of Milliways:

Everyone turns within two days.]

It’s been fourteen days.

Two whole weeks. And she hasn’t so much as twitched.

Ellie supposes that other people would be ecstatic by now, but the most she can muster is a kind of numbness.

(Imagine being trapped on the ground floor of a burning house and discovering you were fireproof and could breathe the smoke.

It’s kind of like that.)

And so, when she steps into Bar, she hesitates on the threshold.

(There are so many lights. So many sounds. They don’t have enough power in the whole QZ for something like this.)

She cradles her right arm a little closer to her chest.

After a few moments, she chances a single step further in.

the_lioness

[OOM: Seventeen]

Today, Alanna decides she's going to linger over breakfast. Here, that is. At home breakfast means well meaning friends, no doubt with gifts she probably doesn't deserve, who will know how she spent her pre-dawn hours. She'd rather avoid the teasing for now.

That's not cowardly, you understand. That's simply taking the time to appreciate Bar's delicious cherry tarts, which she has decided make for an excellent start to her seventeeth year.

Taking said tarts and a large cup of coffee to a spot by the fire, Alanna settles in for a while. She's still dressed in the casual shirt and leggings she'd thrown on this morning, her hair is a mess, and her boots need shining. Nothing about her at the moment would be presentable at court. The thought makes her grin and huff out a laugh.

Oops. Now she has cherry tart crumbs on her shirt, too.

[OOC: Alanna is still very much disguised as 'Alan,' but it might not be as effective in the bar as it once was. Feel free to ping with questions! I'm up and down all weekend, so slowtime is inevitable. Unless you poke me beforehand. Open forever!]

street_sparrow

Gavroche pops in and leaves an invitation to a gathering at the House of Arch for Les Amis - and Eponine, if she wants to come, though he knows how she feels about marking that day. He'll be around to take them through when they appear.

[ooc: sorry for the delay, everyone! Tag at will.]

hey35andholding

( Morning )

( Elevenses )

( Afternoon )

( Evening )

( Midnight )

[OOC: I tried to take a tending on Saturday, then one on Monday - both fell through due to construction mishaps and general stress related to home repairs. Consider this an apology and a replacement for those posts - all of my characters, all in one post. OTA and open forever, be sure to say who you want when you tag in!]

street_sparrow

Gavroche comes to the Bar and is presented with both a vidscreen and a small cake with an iced gun on it.

The vidscreen is temporarily ignored, though he doesn't dismiss it completely, in favour of looking at the cake with a mixed expression.

(He'll eat it eventually.)

Half-unconsciously, under his breath, he murmurs, "Do you hear the people sing?"

hey35andholding

Clementine Johnson has a Plan. A very clever plan that will somehow get her out of facing any jail time. It involves cleverly abusing Millitime to get far enough back in time to rip any taped evidence of her helping Jones and Garcia out of the archive and shred it before it's noticed. Genius, no?

Therefore she's trying to sit and be as inconspicuous as possible by the back door, playing solitaire, which could quite easily turn into a game for two.

Dixie Cousins has discovered the Bar's pool table and is fiddling with a cue, considering her next move. Now, she may know a lot about cards, but this is a new territory for her. Assistance would be appreciated.

Pinkie Pie has brought popcorn! Too much popcorn. Wayy to much popcorn, and she's sitting by the bar with it, her eyes shinier than a fresh-minted penny.

The bag is literally double the size of her head.

Eating assistance appreciated.

Eponine There is now a notice on the board, and it, in chicken-scratch French, offers Eponine's services as a woman of skill, liable to do put her hands to anything, and an actress of some skill. She waits for answers with a glass of wine and egg biscuits near the fire. How can it be this close to Palm Sunday and be this cold?

Juliet O'Hara is now eating the biggest slice of cake she could find with the tallest glass of milk she could find. It's Sunday, she's starving, don't ask.

[OOC: Heading to immediate slows but it's just passed my fourth Milliversary, so here's an assortment of characters for celebration purposes.]

hey35andholding

Clementine Can be found drinking a deadly-looking bright red punch while eating blue cheese wings in a low-cut red top and santa hat, a pile of presents for her compatriots sitting beside her. The wings are totally delicious. You should come and share them.

Dixie is approaching the karaoke machine with curiosity. Seems that nobody warned her about it. Want to do so or watch her downfall instead?

Pinkie Pie Is enthusiastically helping to decorate the bar at top speed, shedding pine needles and red velvet flocking as she goes. Watch out, you might get bowled over!

Eponine is watching people pass by with wide-eyed wonder. It's been years since she's experienced Christmas firsthand instead of as an outsider, and she has no idea where to begin treating herself. Help her out?

[OOC: Instaslows are in effect! Happy holidays, guys!]

isawit

Selina comes in with her hood back and her goggles up, though she pulls them off (first tilting the tops to let the air within escape and letting them dangle around her neck) as soon as she sees that she is not in Gotham any longer. Blinking heavily and eyes tearing, she heads for the bar and gets a bowl of milk and a washcloth, which she dips in the milk before holding it to her eyes.

Someone just happened to get caught at the edges of a mob and a police action.

street_sparrow

The door opens and Jean-Phillipe scuttles in, occupied in counting the coins in a purse that looks much too rich to belong to him.

Sensing the change in his surroundings, he glances up and beams, then heads straight for the Bar.

"Pastries, s'il vous plait. Lots of pastries, as many as this will buy."

The gamins of Paris will be having a feast tonight.

rudderless

Several months have passed since Eponine was discharged from the infirmary, and since then she's mostly been resting in her room, enjoying the luxury of room service. But she's here today, sitting back and observing the various patrons circling the room and drinking a cool cup of the last of the season's lemonade, having reasoned that it's too unseasonably warm outside to possibly enjoy a warm pot of hard cider or wine.

It's been a long summer, filled with recovery, reflection, and self-discovery. Toward that end, she's checked out a book from the library. The golden words on the spine reading boldly, 'how to be a lady'.

The words rising boldly from the page make her more and more aware of the less-than-regal state of the somewhat modest dress and hose she ordered from Bar (paid for, naturally, by Gavroche). She has no idea how she'll change her circumstances, beyond working and studying as hard as she can. But life hasn't licked her yet. The scar on her shoulder is a testament to that.

A distraction would be quite welcome at this point.

[OOC: Consider this a make-up post for my flaking out on Saturday tending - it's a long story, sadly. But I am here, and will try to livetag for the next hour at the very least! Open til her next ep.]

merryeccentricities

It's quiet, after all the noise and screaming of the barricade; that's the first thing Joly notices, but it's not what woke him up. He's overheating, that's what wakes him; that, and lying on cobbles. He stands up and feels something fall off his shoulder, a blanket, something, and gathers it in his arms without thinking about it.

He's not sure what he's holding, because it's dark, too, and he feels for the wall he fell against so much earlier. Instead of the rough plaster of the wall there's a door-- NOW there's a door, and a handle, and it opens--

And it's very bright in here. Not day-bright, but bright enough after the summer night outside. He lifts a hand to shade his eyes, and it's the hand holding the blanket-thing, and-- oh. The blanket- thing is Bossuet's coat. It's soaked with blood.

So are all of his own clothes, for that matter. What there is left of them-- the work of the barricade, fighting and doctoring, had him shedding his own coat and waistcoat and cravat hours ago. He could tell himself that the blood all over him is from other fighters, friends old and just met who needed what little medical help he could give. But he remembers the feeling of being torn apart, and the shock--

He needs a drink.

Fortunately, as his eyes adjust, he sees he has stumbled into something like a bar. Dead or not, he has to smile at the improbable convenience. He takes the next step in, and the door closes behind him.

femme_a_soldat

Madame Thénardier has been cleaning tables -- in a manner of speaking.

Now, she is taking her bucket of soiled water outside, and pours it into the bushes right outside the back door.

street_sparrow

The door opens and a small boy, about four or five, thin and ragged-clothed, slips through - and then stops like a rabbit in headlights. This building was supposed to be empty... but the next moment, his natural boldness reasserts itself and he heads for an unoccupied table as if he's been here all his life.

(Even if he is trying to unobtrusively look at everything.)

rudderless

[OOM: A little fall of rain.]

Eponine doesn't even notice where she's stumbled to as she slips over the threshold of her door. She takes one blind, slow look around before sinking to her knees upon the bar's floor.

If you take a close look at her palm as it slips from its former place upon her chest, you'll see that it's stained red.

[OOC: Reactions and assistance appreciated, but all threads will happen before Gavroche finds her. If you're a doctor or healer type who'd like to help out, please ping me through DM and we'll work on threading order and putting up an infirmary thread.]

rudderless

Sometime after Eponine speaks to her brother about what may have befallen the Inspector and the ever-generous Valjean, the gamine heads down the stairs with a gunnysack of supplies tossed over her shoulder, wearing the rags she'd donned the afternoon of her first appearance.

A lot has happened to her since her unexpected trip. She's been introduced to hope, good food, and met associates old and new.

Once, she lived for Marius - hung on his breath and his praise and his existence. She'd always labored beneath the weight of her own hopelessness, her own broken heart. But now she's seen that there's a world outside of her own, that she can live inside of it without clinging to the dead weed of her love for him.

She knows she needs to complete the circle, even so, and save Marius...but hopefully her own skin as well this time.

Pausing at the Bar, she begs for a piece of paper and a pen and writes a short note to her brother:

( To Gav )

She takes one long, last look at the place when she gives the bar her note. Then she digs into the runsack, pulling out a black woolen mob cap. With a roguish grin she tucks the ends of her growing bob under it, then gives the place a playful salute before turning and leaving through her door.

Maybe there will be adventure in it for her after all.

[OOC: Time for Ep to finish going through canon. Open for reactions; I'll be bringing her back in Monday slightly wounded. Notice her on the way to her door, if you care to.]

le_centre

June, 1832.

Courfeyrac does not so much walk through the door, as fall. Well, Milliways has had more dramatic entrances, and he is not concerned with appearances at present. He sits up, and blinks, and casts his gaze around curiously.

Well.

He looks down at himself. He cannot help but notice that while his clothes are rather bloodstained - and his cravat appears to have stayed bound around Marius Pontmercy's head - the wounds which caused them to be so have disappeared.

Well.

He looks around again. This is...peculiar.

'It is one thing to lack a life,' he declares, mostly to himself. 'But to lack a pithy comment is quite another.'

Well. If there is a time to be found lacking, this may well be it.

[OOC: Sorry guys, my internet's not playing ball tonight, and I'm about to chuck my laptop out of the window. Best call it a night - will pick everything up tomorrow. Thanks for tagging. <3]