pro_patria_mortuus | (no subject)

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Enjolras spent the afternoon (or the loose Milliways equivalent) first in conversation with Courfeyrac -- primarily discussing certain philosophers of the mid-20th century, but also hearing an enthusiastically convoluted description of Courfeyrac's new favorite television shows. After that, sparring with Bahorel.

He's just washed up and changed into a clean shirt and waistcoat, and is considering between dinner and the library, when there's a familiar knock on the door. "Come in," he calls.

He doesn't yet know which friend it is, but all the same the smile of greeting started at the knock.

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Enjolras makes a grimace of understanding. "Yes. We fought for a world where that was unnecessary. And here -- a quiet afterlife, and out the door are worlds at peace, and also worlds of horrors and injustice. I don't know what's best, either."

"I've had the same kind of thoughts. And the guns of our day are pitiful things beside the advances of the future, but -- but to learn how to use them, to seek out that knowledge, that's a skill for a certain kind of purpose."

In life, he wouldn't have hesitated to take any such advantage. But in life, he had a battle worth fighting, that was his to fight as much as any other French citizen's, any other member of humanity's. To seek out someone else's battle is something else. And yet standing aside is its own choice, too.

"Yes," he says somewhat absently, and then again, "Yes. It's a skill for a certain kind of purpose, isn't it. Fighting--no, well, that's too easy to say, it's for killing. And when it isn't our world that's--you can't call it a necessity--"

He pushes both his hands through his hair, shaking his head, and comes up from the position with a truly apologetic smile for Enjolras. "I'm sorry. I'm--mmh. Enjolras--Enjolras, you don't think that Poland is a, an isolated interest? Do you?"

Enjolras looks genuinely taken aback.

"Isolated? No, of course not -- you taught me that. You taught us all of the importance of injustice beyond our own borders. Partition of any nation is committed against all humanity."

It's reassuring. It's selfishly reassuring, to see his own bafflement mirrored on Enjolras's face.

"That's what I--eh, I'm sorry, I know it sounds like I'm talking at random. Isolated interests, an interest in isolated subjects--it's something Father Harman said. But I think we just misunderstood one another. I think we misunderstood one another through the whole conversation. I--do you think it's strange that I'm--that I'm not quite comfortable with the Vikings here? Father Harman seemed to think it was strange. That I wasn't understanding enough. And--and you know, here we are in this place and finding there are so many things we didn't understand in our time--things we were wrong about, nations and races and--men and women--"

Yeah, he knows he's talking very much at random now. Half a dozen trains of thought have all tangled themselves up at once: nationalism, violence, religion, history, selfishness, feeling, choice, government, all sorts of things. Enjolras will surely have a clearer head.

"I don't think it's strange at all."

Feuilly's judgment is good, and always thoughtfully considered. Enjolras respects it enormously. Of course he's not infallible, any more than anyone else, but all the same, Feuilly's misgivings about something are always worth at least taking into account.

"You know them better than I. I haven't actually spoken with any of them. But from what I do know -- it would be stranger if you were entirely comfortable with what they do. Conquest, slaving, violence brought down on the citizens of other lands for terror and profit. They may live in a benighted society which has yet to progress beyond that, but you don't. They're here, they have a chance to learn too that they were wrong about things, but it's up to them to take it. If they don't, you can choose to take the patient approach if you think it'll do good, but that's a separate question. Is that what you're asking?"

He doesn't know Father Harman well either, and he wasn't there for whatever this conversation was. Perhaps he's misinterpreted.

No--he hasn't misinterpreted. That's the heart of it. A certain gratitude shows in Feuilly's face. "Oh, I think some of them are clever men--brilliant, even--and probably good people of their time. And--it's a hard time, and a hard place. I don't know if they could come here and--change. I can be patient, usually. It just--"

Hm. He rubs his face. "It took me by surprise that Athelstan has joined them so much. Going on raids. --I don't know if you've heard, but they've had one of those time--strangenesses. A week or two passed here, but four years for them. I haven't been sure how to talk to him."

"I hadn't heard."

It's a troubling thought, for all that of course it's happened many times throughout humanity's history: a man brought to the point of joining his oppressors, even turning his sympathies to them, whatever bonds of real affection might spur him. Enjolras reaches out to press Feuilly's shoulder.

"That's hard. To encompass such a change -- how could you be expected to take that without a qualm? I'm sure it's harder for him, but nonetheless, difficult for those who knew him a week before as a different man."

Edited 2015-06-21 16:01 (UTC)

The earnestness is so real, and so welcome, that Feuilly has to laugh softly at himself, tangling a hand in his hair and reaching up to press the hand on his shoulder. "Thank you. Thank you, Enjolras. I did need to hear that it's not absurd to--be taken aback a moment. The conversation with Father Harman had me doubting it myself--and, you know, here I am saying that I half liked that Harry Percy, who's come here from probably a bigger battle than any of the Vikings. I ought to be more consistent. I wish I were. --I'm sorry, I've come here with a dozen different conversations in my head at once."

"But of course you're consistent."

This earnestness, too, is very genuine, and accompanied by another light press to Feuilly's shoulder.

"You've always lived up to your ideals consistently. To like a man new-come, who begins with tentative listening, that's very different from someone who seeks out other lands to conquer. Even then, there would be no shame in finding common ground, enough for dialogue, a bridge to the beginning of education and views exchanged, if that were how you felt."

Enjolras has never been much good at the sort of social friendship that doesn't demand intellectual common ground, but plenty of their friends find satisfaction in it.

He laughs again, rueful and glad; he can feel himself blush. "Oh, no, I don't think I've ever managed anything like consistency. But thank you. --And you're right," Feuilly adds more seriously. "There's never any shame in finding common ground--I've never thought so. It startled me, when Athelstan said he was going on raids now, but there's still common ground to find."

He falls silent. One of the threads tangling up his thoughts just now is the scriptural work: but it pulls on his (very vague) thoughts about religion and (his much more complicated thoughts) about craftsmanship, and he knows these are foreign territory for Enjolras. Prouvaire, perhaps, might be a man to ask...

"Thank you," he says again to Enjolras.

"Always."

Feuilly knows that.

He does know that, and he smiles--but he still appreciates it. And he also knows that Enjolras would argue him out of any idea that seemed wrong to him. A loyal friend, the dearest friend, but an honest one, too.

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