The Pen And The Sword (Tag: Courf)

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Courfeyrac only let out a snort of laughter as Mylie wheedled, trying to get information. “Ah don't see ye keepin' yer mouth shut much now,” he pointed out in a teasing retort. Honestly, he would not wish for her to do so. He did not want to get her in trouble by giving her information that might endanger her, but if anything, Courfeyrac had learned that he could not protect everyone from everything. Even though sometimes he thought of Mylie as still a gamine, she was not a child; there were no children in Paris, as they all had to grow up too fast. She wasn't much younger than him. “This is important,” he agreed, “an' that's why it can be dangerous.” He was not sure what would happen, no one was. Raising an eyebrow, he only relented, “'s no secret that we're gonna be 'andin' out some information at the Street Parade. For now, tha's all there is to tell.”

Smiling faintly as she responded to his comments on the charter, Courfeyrac murmured softly, “See? Ye're already smarter than ye give yerself credit for.” Sure, there were a few things that he had discussed with her or taught her earlier, but she knew things out of her own merit and through conversations with other people as well. She was a fighter, alright, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to keep her out of the fight in the coming days. Nor did he really want to. He wanted her to be safe, sometimes they had to risk their lives for a chance to live. “No piece of paper is gonna give us those rights, 'm afraid. We've got to fight for them ourselves.”

...and mon Dieu, would Mylie ever fight! She was even arguing with him now, even though they were on the same side! “The will of the people 's what shall be followed,” he insisted, unswayed, though impressed. “What everyone says 'll count. That's 'ow we'll get a majority decision.” He could not predict everything, but he stood steadfastly by his principles that a republic would work.

Another smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as she tried to respond, her voice faltering. He had not intended to digress from the point. Well, not entirely, anyway. “Then you 'ave mah assurance, mademoiselle, that ye'll 'ave everything you deserve.” And that wasn't him. Courfeyrac wasn't one to say no to a beautiful woman, and most all the amis had mistresses, excepting Enjolras and Marius for obvious reasons, but... this was Mylie, after all. He lingered, eyes searching hers, before he drew back slightly. “Ye'll need tha' 'ead of yours to keep up with me, and to keep yer feet at a time li' this.” He took a breath and turned to replace the gun in its container, face sobering.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

She was getting an anwer now, and yet it was no answer at all. But even though she liked to push things far with her enthusiasm and her fighting spirit, she also knew when to relent and be content with what she was given concerning information. She was not afraid of danger, she never had been, but that was also why she probably needed more guardian angels than anyone else could claim for themselves, be they human guardians or heavenly. One day, she knew that very well, there might be a tight spot she got herself in but not out again, but that didn’t stop her most of the time. At least she would go down with a fight, than by dying of cholera or hunger and never having had a single adventure in her life! “Jus’ be sure yer handing these out te people tha’ can read!” she teased him. “Ye know… majority of Paris’s street lads and lassies still can’t!” Even though she was making some progress in that peculiar art of reading and writing, Mylène often still counted herself amongst the illiterate population. After all, apart from her lessons with Courf, she hardly needed these skills in her daily life.

Mylène gave a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh and accompanied it with a dismissive gesture. “I ‘ave two ears and two eyes, does tha’ make me smart? Hey… what about I start studying, then?” She was of course joking, not really dreaming about spending her days reading and listening to people. Debating maybe, yes, she’d like that, but that she could do without studying. And anyway… women didn’t study. Though her mouth might have once again sprouted nonsense and slightly rebellious words, she DID realize the compliment in his comment, just that she could not really react to it with the gratitude it might deserve. She just wasn’t used to getting praise instead of orders or curses headed her way, and the teasing was a way to deal with that unexpected ‘assault’, for deep down she feared it could make her weak, and weakness was not something she could ever allow herself. “An’ wha’ we’re gonna do once we ‘ave ‘em?” she asked him sceptically, “’Ow do we keep ‘em? How’s this gonna work anyway?”

What everyone said… that of course would entail the women, even though Mylène was still convinced that even the new world would be more of a man’s world with mostly men having a say and the women being expected to follow. Not everyone held the ‘fairer sex’ in such high regards as Courfeyrac after all. But she let the matter drop for now, indicating with a slow nod that she could live with this outcome of things. They would have to see anyway… they hadn’t even started yet. No one knew what tomorrow or the day after that would bring… and if it would be change for better or worse.

And there it was… the step back. She should have known it would come, and a part of her HAD known. Just that the other part had been too curious and actually willing to find out what could possibly lie behind the next step forward. For a moment Mylène felt a pang of letdown, but then told herself to wise up. Though the hint had been gentle, she was apt enough to recognize it and proud enough to not want to venture further where there apparently still was a firm line. Sometimes she wondered what he thought of her, what he saw her as, but these moments of weakness were few and she scolded herself inwardly for them. When he turned away to place the gun in its secret hiding place, she took a short moment to regain her composure, closing her eyes, taking a breath herself and working on a smile. Her voice was almost as carefree as always,when she asked: “Keep up with ye? S’tha’ a challenge or a warnin? But, dun worry... I am known for a good footin' after all”

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Courfeyrac gave a nod as Mylene reminded him that not everyone was literate. “Ah'm aware,” he said dryly. “But thank you. We need more like you, always thinkin'.” He tapped his head playfully before reaching into his pockets to pull out an example pamphlet. While there were words on them, there were also pictures, drawn by one of the Amis of course, and those would be more easily understood even by people who were illiterate. In any case, they could not hand out pamphlets to everyone at the street parade, but he could hope that everyone would hear their voices in the crowd. That was the more important thing. The pamphlets were just supplementary. “Don't worry, Mylie – they'll know. Ah'll make sure of it.”

“It makes you smart if you use 'em,” he replied easily. Most everyone had two eyes and ears, unless they had suffered some kind of misfortune, but the most unfortunate thing of all was that most people didn't use them. Sometimes they chose to ignore the suffering around them, as was the case with most aristocrats, at least as far as Courfeyrac had observed (not all of them). He who did not weep, did not see. And of course it was impossible to ignore that poverty did exist; there would be people lining the streets, banging on carriages, and the rich people inside of them tried not to look out.

Mylene had a point; once they had their rights, they had to keep them. “Well, ev'ryone is goin' to have to decide that together,” he decided diplomatically. “Tha's what we're goin' to have to find out – whether everyone wants to keep 'em. Not ev'ryone knows what it means to 'ave rights. Some people might not want to 'ave a say; they'd rather sit back and let other people make the decisions. But Ah'm hopin' enough people do want their voice heard, and they'll vote.” This system had worked in America, which had been the inspiration for many Frenchmen that a revolution could be successful. “We'll live by rule of law. The res publica, the public thing, tha's the law. And everyone will decide togethah what those laws are.”

He was suddenly aware of Mylene's movements – the slow nod, the heightened breathing – as they stood closer and his voice faded. He was glad that his back was to her for a moment, and he took a bit longer than necessary to secure the gun before he turned to face her once more. “Both,” he admitted, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth to make a sideways smile. “Don' worry. I know ye are.” He wiped his hands on his trousers unceremoniously before sighing. “Well. Ah'd better get back to work then.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Always thinking? Probably rather always adding her own two sous without even being asked for it, but that was to be expected, right? You had to keep up certain standards after all, once you gained a certain reputation as a disrespectful jabberer and mockingbird. Grinning at the questionable compliment, she stood at attention and gave a mocking salute. “Always at your service, Monsieur le Comte, Vive La France!” Then her head bent curiously over the pamphlet Courf had produced from his pocket. The drawings were very telling indeed, and she scanned them with a smile, wondering who of the boys had such a good hand. Feuilly probably, he wasn’t a fanmaker for nothing and had to adorn them daily with dainty pictures for the fastidious eyes of the ladies. Then she took a closer look at the words, her brows creasing. “’Insur- Insurrection Re-pub—Republicaine’… and ‘Vi- aah, Vive La France’, that one’s easy. Mon Dieu, you’re going at it good, mah boys!” A proud smile played around her lips, as the student just had shown her progress to the teacher.

They really seemed to have thought about this a lot, and it put Mylène’s mind at ease, at least a little. There was nothing worse than running impulsively into a state of uproar and then having no idea how to deal with it. That was no different in making big politics than in planning a good spying trip or a pickpocketing act. You always should know what you got yourself into – and how to get yourself out of it, should things start to spiral out of control. “In my experience, there’ll always be those who choose te fall behind, an’ those who choose te lead. An then… there’s also always those who choose a path o' greed.” She was thinking especially about Thénardier at that, who would surely try to keep up his reign even when everyone else was striving for equality. He would be a problem… a problem that ought to be dealt with. “Everyone deciding together…” she mused, cocking her head again and then suddenly searched his gaze with an almost to be called astonished smile. “DOES feel darin’ somehow to… wantin’ te change the world… darin’… but excitin’ as well!”

Mylène was getting restless now, feeling a little awkward around Courfeyrac all of a sudden, probably a reaction to what they had just avoided, and she knew it would pass. But for now, she wasn’t all that crestfallen when he explained he had some more work to do. She had had her lesson, and a few more interesting things to think of, and even though he had not been very open about details, she had seen part of what they planned through their discussion. She even had promised him a visit to the jugglers and had been given a chance for attendance of a meeting in return. All in all it was a far more productive afternoon than she would have ever imagined, and she didn’t want to keep him from his studies and preparations either.
“I’ll leave ye in Rosseau’s good care, then”, she quipped, gesturing at the book. “But the café’d like another visit of ye and the others, if ye can make it. Spread the word, Madame's makin’ quiches again, she said.” With that, a challenging wink and a smile, she turned and sauntered out of the door, back into the buzzing streets of Paris.