EGALITE ET FRATERNITE [Mylie]

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Mylène returned the chuckle Courf gave, but just like his, it didn’t sound right. It sounded like she was not herself at all in this moment, which might be partly true. She felt different, but she also did not like that. It was not her, it was not how she usually would deal with such a situation, so what was different about this one? And… was it only her imagination, wishful thinking, or was Courfeyrac as affected by their dance and the tension as she was? He had better comebacks usually, far better ones, but why should she read anything into it? Ah, she was thinking too much, that was not her, either! Mylène took things as they came, since thinking made you slow. Action-reaction, and only thinking forward to plan a coup. Never, NEVER ever think back! Even what happened a few minutes before was the past, and therefore negligihle. It was negligible… right?

Boucher seemed not too concerned about any of this, not even about Courf’s mocking remark, even though it was his own daughter that was one part of this little game. And that Mylène found peculiar too. Normally he would defend Esti with teeth and claws, intimidating everyone that dared to come to close by his sheer size and the show of menace he could put on. But towards Courf he had been different, well-nigh accostable, as if he didn’t worry at all about his daughter’s heart. Maybe it was because he could see Courf to be an honorable man… or he was naturally carefree these days.
“Cum back whenever ye can, lad”, he offered with a grave nod. “Looked like ye know ‘ow te have a good time. We’ll always be ‘cross town. Coquine will know where… jus’ ask”, he grinned. “Even if ye come withou’ tha’ rascal!”

The offhand answer made the shadow of a grin flicker over Pépier’s face and he gave a nod. “Aye, the puppet… though there’s only one puppet in this realm…”, he murmured, leaning closer to Courfeyrac, apparently not daring to voice this opinion aloud. “An’ if ye ask me, it’s a thirteen year ol’boy!” Then he straightened himself again and tipped his head with his shawm playfully. “I’ll be there… someone’s gonna entertain them crowd after all. Ye’ll probs see us all there.”
Mylène could only wonder about this, for as far as she knew Pèpier had never voiced any critical words before, not such general ones at least. But apparently he was thinking more about the ‘common cause’ than she had thought… she HAD been keeping away from the jugglers for the last two years. Some things would have changed.

Apparently Courf sought to end this in the most professional way he could, and Mylène slowly started to wonder whether she had been overreacting. Then again, it was of no real significance, they were still good friends after all. Cocking her head, she playfully bit her lip, as if she had to think about this, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Oh, I don’t know… sitting up in my room with my knitting sounds also appealing…” Then she gave a snort and shook her head wildly so her curls flew around. “Of COURSE I’ll be there… Now, get going, Comte Republicain. I’ll catch up with ye later, d’accord?”

[Deleted]

Courfeyrac may have been a flirt, and a revolutionary, and between the two, he was bound to offend people here and there, but he never intended to do so. He didn't ask too many questions of people who didn't want to talk; whenever he was about to make a political statement, it was often prefaced with “no offense” or a gentle joke to lighten the mood; he treated women honorably in the sense that he didn't take anything more from them than they expected, and he knew when to step back. This was one of those times. A fun dance with Estelle, kissing her hand, that had been delightful, but there was no danger in it. She was a child, and he thought of her as a child, and he adored her for it. Mylene, however, was another case.

“Ah will, if Ah can,” he replied sincerely to Boucher, sensing that they had an understanding. Not only had he secured himself a place in the man's good graces, but he also seemed to know that while Courf knew how to have a good time, he also knew that was not all that life was about. “Thank you, m'sieur.” He would make no promises, not to Boucher and not to “Coquine,” because he made no promises that he wasn't sure he could keep.

Pepier's remark, just what he wanted to hear, made a grave smile appear on Courf's boyish face, hardening it. It seemed Boucher was not the only member of the group who had found him transparent. So it was at this age. “'s 'igh time to pull back the curtain and cut the strings,” Courfeyrac agreed in a low voice, giving a nod of affirmation. He didn't blame the boy. It wasn't about the king himself; it was about the institution of kingship as a whole. Courfeyrac was thoroughly convinced that there would never be a good king. “Soon.” Not tonight, not yet – but tonight, they would plan, at the very least.

And then Christian and Mylie were alone again, his expression softening at the sight of her biting her lip. “Oy,” he sighed, a good-natured shake of his head drawn from her response. She could give him as good as he gave, alright. “Mylene,” he said more seriously, meeting her gaze and sobering. “You be safe, ye 'ear?” He looked at her seriously before drawing his coat closer around him and hurrying off.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

As night was falling fast now, the remaining crowd that did not belong to the jugglers was slowly walking off, either to get home or to join the soon-to-be forming parade. The jugglers themselves were packing up their things to transport them towards the parade’s starting point where they would regroup and accompany the marching crowd with more of there merriment and music. A feeling of decampment and at the same time excitement was in the air, as they were all preparing for something new. For the jugglers, every new place, every new happening was a good thing, and most of them had no idea about the gravity this night held for some. Or if they did, they did not see it as a reason to be grave and somber themselves. One of their best talents was always flowing with the tide. And Mylène could only hope that they would not be too lethargig and fun-loving to realize the spirit of change. If this rebellion, this revolution ought to be succesful, they needed more hands and minds, people who were willing to fight for their rights. Jugglers, however, had always been outside the law, so even if it changed, not much would probably change for them.

Pepier however seemed one of those willing to look beyond his own mind, and Mylène felt that the last word for him had not been spoken, even though he let the matter drop for now. And there was hope in his interest, for Pépier had a way with words, too. One of his other talents besides playing various wind instruments, was the telling of stories, and he was the presenter of their group, always knowing how to attract the crowds attention. His verve could be a valuable incentive for the rest of the jugglers, if he only wanted to. But that, too, was still written in the stars, and it seemed like Pépier himself was not sure where exactly he stood yet. Apart from the ABC friends, Mylène guessed no one really knew that yet. She just knew that they all had to decide soon, and her own decision was almost completely made. She wanted change, she wanted revolution… and more than anything she wanted to see that new world beyond the barricades.

Courf was itching to go, she could feel it, and as the sun had almost completely vanished now she understood him well. This, as fun as it had been while it lasted, had only been an episode for him. She could only hope he had been able to take something from it, strength, hope, whatever. It had been envigorating for her surely, this short visit to the present, and to a world of dance, sans-soucis, carefree youth and… yes, and attraction. But just like him she knew it could not last, not in this form. The world was turning far too serious and dangerous for that, and it showed all too clearly in Courfeyrac’s words of goodbye, as he told her to be safe.
Nomally, she would have answered with something flippant and cheeky, but she had seen the sincerity in his eyes, and did not want to slight it with her disregard. Therefore she only nodded and watched him go, and only when he was out of sight, having merged with the growing shadows, she heard herself whisper: “…You too…!”

~ The End ~