farouche_bravoure | OOM: by the lake

Bahorel is taking his time about getting back to the Bar for a quick break. He stops when he sees Fantine, and starts to call a greeting-- and stops again, waving instead, when he sees the bird hopping around uncaged at her feet.

His voice, when he's close enough to speak quietly, is low and delighted. "It is a skylark. I haven't seen them here at all. --Yours?"

"Yes," says Fantine. "A gift from Cosette. Isn't he a darling?"

He grins. " I'll trust your word for that, as I've only just met the fellow. But a true French skylark, then." Bahorel trills a skylark song at the little bird; an ordinary enough country boy's trick. " I had wondered for a moment--it would suit you. He does as it is, of course. But I've never seen one convinced to stay so near a person." He's genuinely impressed.

Fantine beams. "I taught him. It took great care and patience--and bribery. He likes crumbs from sweet buns! And he likes to be petted, though not held close." She reaches out to stroke his wing with a finger. "But now he stays near me, though he gets curious about others--"

She laughs, as the bird hops over to Bahorel, and gives an inquisitive chirp.

He laughs silently, and chirps back again, a longer warble this time. " Hail to thee, blithe spirit! What objects are the fountains of thy happy strain?"

The bird chirps again, and puffs its feathers proudly. Bahorel grins approval.

" There was a time, last year, before you arrived, when we all had our souls in birds-- ah, I'm not being poetic, though it was a thing to drive a poet for certain!-- but for a moment I thought this fellow must be yours. But he's too much the braggart." Takes one to know one! "--Have you given him a name?"

"His name is François, after the saint," says Fantine, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, you had your souls in birds?"

" It was a brush with another world; a thing that could perhaps only happen here. Many other worlds, for different visitors-- but for all of us--my friends and I-- it was the same. A world a few years earlier than ours, where Louis-Philippe had only just completed his theft-- and where every soul was visible, embodied and free,in some sort of animal or bird. We were all birds, though I think--then I knew-- that it was not always so. And it was something, to feel yourself free, for everyone to show themselves so, to see and feel the world apart--the soul free from its cage, and still in consort--ah! Ask Jehan, Prouvaire, you've met him; he could say it better. It needs a poet."

Another little trill at the lark. " And so I thought this one might be yours--though I would hope in that world you would have found this place another way."

"Why, it sounds lovely," says Fantine. "I never thought of souls as birds before! But what a beautiful thought. Each soul free of cares, to fly where it will--but no," she says, "he is not my soul, he is only a darling pet."

"It was--that and more. But seeing this little spirit in sympathy with you is a fine thing, too. You have taught him to choose good company."

He watches the little bird hop about, his smile fading into a thoughtful look.

"Yet if we were things born not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near." He's clearly quoting, and mostly to himself. He sighs, and goes on in a more usual tone.

"I am going to be leaving soon, for a while. I don't know if that's something or nothing to you, but I didn't want to leave without letting you know, and letting you know how to reach me then, if you need to -- if it seems to you that you do, and not by anyone else's judgement."

"Oh!" Fantine's eyes widen. "Of course it's something--but how can you be leaving? I thought you were dead, and so stuck here."

Well that's good to know, even if it complicates things. Especially because it complicates things. "Dead and pinned as any curiosity, it's true-- but there are some little windows out to other places here. The Labyrinth,I've traveled there a while-- and the forest, even beyond the Deep Forest, crosses over with Kazul's kingdom and I think there are no barriers to us doing the same. And then there is the sea!" He straightens up to point to the inlet. "It may join other oceans on other worlds, if it does not simply wash itself upon itself forever. If it does, perhaps even we dead can travel by sea; at any rate, that is what I mean to discover, if I can." It's thrilling to think of having an adventure at hand, and he makes no attempt to keep that out of his voice.

"I had no idea we could travel elsewhere," says Fantine, wonderingly. "Maybe someday I will--but you're going out to sea, then?"

" Ah! Of course you could! You should!--the forest, at least. I mean to go there myself some day. Kazul, you've seen her? She was at the party; any kingdom she calls her own must be a fine trip, for the right sort of day. But too much of a sort with Milliways --a sugar-cake world, from all her accounts. A fine place to visit! -- But a hazard to stay in. Fairylands can make for too much forgetting--especially the kind ones. These fine gardens are all lotus-plants for me, and I must get away before I fall too far asleep. And then, if there is any truer world we can reach!--" If, then, a chance of uncertainty, such fine things!

Fantine doesn't get all the references to lotus-plants and the like, but the sense of it is fairly obvious. "You find this world...false? Or dull?"

She hadn't considered this as a possible viewpoint before.

He frowns, thinking -- he hasn't been asked to explain it. Everyone who's spoken of it feels it, too, a more or less pressing awareness of how much can't be done here, all the needs that can't be answered--so much that they barely do speak of it, some of them. But Fantine's asking an honest question, and a fair one.

He lounges onto his side to run a hand through the grass. "This place is real--as real as any world. I have no reason to think otherwise of it. The company is good, I make no quarrel there-- I could ask for none dearer, or better. And it is comfortable , and it is a generous place. But there is something more than comfort, ease, luxury. Those are fine!-- I will never argue for the hair-shirt and the cold bath when there can be silk and steam! But there is more than that; there must be more than that.

"Look-- you've shared in work with others, before being here-- yes? You know what it is, to be busy with work that matters, not because it's a grand purpose, but because it suits you and makes a place in the world. There's a difference in that,  a difference between work that builds to something, never mind what other people think of the building, and work done just for a pass-time; a difference between making even a simple apron and making a damn embroidery sampler, however fine; a difference between practice-- who has not balked at dull practice! -- And doing something.

"And it's something else again --something else so far again-- to be doing something that will matter later--never mind planting the seeds, or laying the first tones! just tearing up the ground for a foundation that will come , to see it coming , a ghost of the future-ah! I am a devout idler; ask anyone who knows me , they will swear to it; but for such visions even I will shift my share of a mountain.

"That's what I call true, to throw everything in against that great force of the unknown; better yet, to do so with others in shared spirit-ah! " It's Francoise that makes him break off, the little bird 's feathers starting to ruffle at Bahorel's audible excitement. Bahorel chirps at him again, and smiles a little when the lark hops closer. When he goes on, his voice is softer. "Perhaps it's just because that's what it was to be alive, that it  seems to me the only real way to live-- but there it is, and I will not give it up, and I cannot see a way to have it again here, not without pushing the borders we have been given."

"Oh," says Fantine, softly, and reaches out to stroke François's wing. "Oh. I don't understand all you mean, but some of it--yes. When I mended an apron on the farm as a child, that was--that was real work, more real than the lacework I make here, for no purpose other than it pleases me. Well, and it's for Cosette." She gives a slight smile here. "I suppose, so long as she comes here, I will have something to make this place real for me. She's living, after all, and will want her mother, and I can be useful to her..."

Well. Hopefully, anyway.

"But I think I see--how being in a world where nothing counts, and nothing grows, and all is restful..." She trails off, uncertain of how to finish her sentence.

"It's death," she says, after a moment. "And you're not dead in spirit."

"You do understand." He seizes her free hand tightly for a moment, on impulse, struck by how much she's right. "You understand exactly, enough to say it more clearly." He presses her hand again, partly in apology, and lets go.

He goes on more quietly. "It's different for you, of course it is, with your own daughter coming here! Your own flesh and blood still living in the world, and to her you're to her as you would be in our own France--a parent living in a quiet out-of-the-way retreat, at least half the people of Paris can claim that. Some of the rest of our own group, they've found ways to make a real life here. But me--" he shakes his head. "I I find nothing this time, still the effort is worth the effort; there has been very little here that is.- I will not say nothing has been. There are too many people I love here for that. And some of them are happy, and that has been worth seeing. And we have had our own chances to reach back to our world, here and there--and it comes here."

He frowns a moment, then smiles a little at Francois pulling at the edges of Fantine's sleeve. "And I would not have you think your countrymen are abandoning you, here."

Fantine smiles, and blushes, and looks determinedly at François. "That's very good of you," she says. "I understand why you would leave, then. And I wouldn't feel abandoned. But--I hope you do come back!" Perhaps she shouldn't have said that, but this sailing away idea sounds dangerous, deliberately so.

He laughs. "I won't promise; I can't, and if I could it wouldn't be much of an adventure! But I'll try , just for that." It's a joke, but less than it might be. Much less, really.

"But, listen-- I can't guarantee this either, I haven't tested it so much yet--but there's a way I might come back right off, if you think it's important. Don't ask me how it works! Don't ask, for I don't know, so it's no use me trying to explain! Milliways magic; or magic from some place that touches it. Anyway, if there's something you need me for --I can't think what it would be , but I trust you to know if it happens-- tell one of my friends, they'll know what to do. And if I can get back, why, I will; and if I can't, you'll still have all of them to rely on, besides your own family." If the Doors are working, if her family's here--too many ifs to need saying. But his friends will be here, anyway.

Fantine stares for a moment, then nods, and gives François a pat. "There's so much strange magic here, I shouldn't be surprised you and your friends know how to use it! I should be quite all right, but--" Here she smiles. "Thank you for thinking of me, and I'll remember what you say."

"Oh,you're easy to think about." That's just the truth. "Ha, but I wouldn't say we know how to use the magic here! It's magic, i don't think anyone here can really say they understand it--except maybe Madame Bar. I have an idea worth trying; but I'm liable to end up back here in three days, and a fine joke on me that will be. But then it wouldn't be very interesting if it was certain to work!"

Some people might disagree. Some people are lawyers on purpose! There are all sorts.

"At least it should be good for a laugh, then. But here, I'm not meaning to be off for some days yet. I have to be here for the fair, Feuilly's going to have his booth up." Obviously he has to harass a dear friend!

François hops onto Fantine's wrist. "I hope it's the adventure you want," she says, and then smiles. "The fair will be adventure enough for me! I'm as excited as a child about it. Surely a fair in this place would have all sorts of marvelous sights. Is Feuilly going to make fans there?"

OOM: by the lake

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