CROSSPOSTS |FROM MY AO3|

WHEN FIRE AND EARTH COLLIDE | LES MIS ENJOLTAIRE

Grantaire sat on the pond bank, absently rolling a ball of mud between his fingers, manipulating it into a perfect, shining sphere. His sketchbook sat untouched on the ground next to him. He lost concentration for a moment, and the mudball collapsed, melting back into its natural, porous state. So much for that. He shifted the dirt beneath him, adjusting it so that there was a little cushioned seat in the ground, and stared up at the sky.

He remembered the first time he discovered his power. He was twelve, which was already unusually late. Gavroche was only nine, and he'd had the beginnings of his for over a year. He remembered playing in the yard with his dog, from before he up and left the place. He remembered drawing shapes in the mulchy dirt, before realizing with a start that he wasn't actually holding a stick. The designs trawled themselves out of their own accord, responding like a muscle that he hadn't known he could flex. He also remembered the stark sense of disappointment. That's all? He thought to himself. He could manipulate dirt. Not rock, like Bossuet and Feuilly, or plant life like Jehan. Dirt. And he wasn't the strongest at it, either, not like Musichetta who had a similar power, but on a much larger scale.

In the grand scheme of things, maybe it wasn't that bad. Marius could manipulate a little bit of weather, but only within a few feet of himself, and he was better at causing fog or rain than he was at clearing the sky. Bahorel could start and direct fire, but not control it, which caused a good few incidents with the fire department. But he still felt the pressing inferiority of himself.

Combeferre could fill entire pools with water, and manipulate the water as well. Montparnasse could harness shadows to cloak himself into the dark. Eponine could draw huge clouds of smoke out of nothing. Enjolras could use pure, hot fire with complete control, just hovering there. He could hold it like a globe, and even throw it and direct it. Grantaire's dirt-drawing paled by comparison.

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"The tensions rising between the Fire and Air sectors must be calmed. We cannot afford a split now, not after so much progress! The Separation Statement would permit public institutions- schools, workplaces, offices, parks- to deny entrance and use to people classified by use of a biased and weighted system! What constitutes a 'destructive power' anyway? There's not a term definition, which means that whoever gives in and seals the deal can manipulate the system to their advantage! It must be stopped, and stopped now!" Enjolras's voice carried through the Café Musain with such determination that nobody could doubt its sincerity. Panting slightly, Enjolras sat down, blonde hair streaked with sweat. Grantaire knew that deep down inside, it exhausted him. It would exhaust anyone.

"Good speech tonight," Combeferre said, filling his empty glass with fresh water. "Sit down, you're about to catch on fire." Enjolras sat down, taking a deep drink before sighing tiredly.

Gavroche crawled over to Grantaire, snapping his fingers to make tiny sparks. His fire powers weren't completely developed- that could take another few years- but he was learning. Hopefully learning wouldn't involve burning down buildings.

"Hey, kid," Grantaire sighed. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Maybe," Gavroche remarked, winking. "Don't you have some pining to do?" He pointed cinematically to Enjolras, who was talking to Feuilly and Joly, back turned.

"Gavroche!" Grantaire said. "I do not pine!"

"Yes, you do," he countered. "Eponine says so. Eponine says you pine all the time."

She's one to talk, thought Grantaire spitefully. All of ninth grade, we heard nothing but Marius, Marius, Marius from her. "Don't believe everything Ep says, Gavroche," he said aloud. He was picking up Eponine's trademark sarcastic attitude, and Grantaire found it both annoying and endearing. Gavroche scampered away, probably to bug someone else. Grantaire remembered to keep a lookout for flaming tables.