Les Amis de l'ABC had themselves engaged to this rather noble-and way too utopian-duty of theirs. And so they began to journey on.
If they have genuinely wished to be friends with the debased, they knew they had to make the first move in reaching out. If they have genuinely wished to gain these people's trust, they knew they had to be sincerely empathetic-they needed to prove that they truthfully understood these people's grave burdens, even if they have never been in their shoes to begin with.
That would have to be the point when they would have to need Éponine's expertise about the marginalized faubourg. After all, she did dwell on one for quite an ample period of time. She must have already been accustomed to the wretched street-life perfectly well. Thinking that way, one can't possibly be wrong.
It is still a great marvel how the young lass had managed to get by after a full year of suffering under such hellish circumstances. There's no denying that those were incredibly insane. It was definitely not something that they conversed about often-let alone consider it a casual subject.
During several of the initial days, they took to the forlorn streets for observation-merely observing the condition provoked by the world's faithless bias, and by the aristocracy's quenchless thirst for dominion. They plotted various types of strategies in approaching the people, afraid that they might turn them down at any given time.
At first, of course, they received several suspicious responses. The destitute were not to be blamed though. Who knew what these nicely-clad, wealthy schoolboys had in mind? Who knew if they were being true, or simply performing a stunt for their reputation? Who knew whether or not all of their future kind deeds would only be for a bogus show to add more merit into their list of magnanimous philanthropy?
One can never tell what another's real intentions are. But then again, there was Éponine. Some of these people were actually quite familiar with her face as if they have seen her around here before. She would confirm it without a doubt. They've gradually developed trust as they knew she was one of them.
Life in the faubourgs appeared precisely just the same, as far as Éponine could remember-and as far as how she knew she left it few ages back, to join her eight best buddies in those lofty tenements of theirs.
She has deemed to relate to every unlikable experience told by the commoners. Her friends, on the other hand, seemed to have been moved a little too much by the undeniable sentiments brought about by this neglected, rotten area of Paris.
How had she handled the life in here? Was it to even be called "life"? It was too complicated to be deciphered, and as of those very moments, it had been the sole prospect on these schoolboys' heads. They knew they may never be able to understand the situation completely, just by the unsaid words and more or less unanswerable questions lingering in their thoughts.
The place would have been too horrendous for it to be described. It was not yet the ultimate underworld but to them, it was already so much to take. The colder and rougher current of the wind, the unpleasantly pungent stench in the air, the likely unconscious bodies-all of these were omnipresent and it was, for a fact, damnable.
Éponine had to consistently remind them that there exists an underbelly far worse than this faubourg. She had once teased her amis about being awfully blind to not notice these fairly eye-catching spectacles of the lower classes. In their defense, it was their first-ever time having been to such a place. It was not at all a lie. They weren't frequenters of the slums. There were only two venues that had the intention of these young boys' going: their cloistered compound and the stately university-nothing more, nothing less.
Nonetheless, all of them were wholeheartedly willing to learn. They were, indeed, that engaged to this promising cause. Although the ever amusing fact of the amis being divided into equal halves had occurred yet again.
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Season to Remember [Les Misérables AU]
FanfictionA tale of Enjolras and Éponine: the eagle whose wings are to falter, and the rose whose petals are to fall. They have been children too fond of summer's warmth, and so have failed to heed the real cost of what autumn has stolen. Memories of love di...