epcot | { ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ ʜᴏᴡʟs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴠᴇɪɴs }

[ The first sensation Enjolras feels is the warmth of light pooling on his face.

Were it not for the heavy, dull aching throughout his body, he might think he was dead. The height of the fall would have been more than enough; Enjolras can still hear the crack of the old, large trunk underneath him, the horrified shouts of his hunting party ringing out as he plummeted into the misty depths below.

He also would have hardly been the first. It was a right of passage of most of the young men of his village to join their fathers, uncles, and neighbors on the monthly hunting expeditions, off to track and slay the wolf-like monsters that haunted the woods lining the periphery of the farmlands. Many families still passed down legends of a favored son's bold kill or daring escapes--but just as many traded tales of sons lost to the darkness of the trees, of long-dead brothers and uncles presumably devoured by the same beasts they had hoped to destroy.

Enjolras had believed himself an exception. When his parents had handed him his thick woolen coat on the eve of the hunt, dyed a dark, almost blood red despite the extra expense, he'd promised them he would come back with a kill for them. It seemed too fool-hardy now; all the extra time studying the older mens' snares, practicing shots with his bow out by the stables, asking the more seasoned trackers for the best signs of the wolves' presence. What had it gotten him? Over-eager, crashing far ahead of his party after the beast over a decaying log and on to his doom.

He tests the waters of his newfound not-afterlife by creaking open his eyes, wincing at the unexpected brightness. What is also unexpected his location: he in not at the bottom of a ravine, body broken and bleeding, but laid flat on the floor of a cave mouth, wounds cleaned and carefully wrapped with what looks like some sort of cloth.

Enjolras has been saved, but by who, and why? His hunting party would have tried to take him back to the village, even with his body as broken as it felt. Dying en route from the pain was still a far better prospect than what awaited anyone who stayed in the woods overnight.

Gingerly, he tries to push himself upright to get a better look his surroundings, but his clearly broken right arm gives way almost immediately, slamming him back against the cold, rocky floor with a groan. ]

You're hurt. Don't move.

[ Grantaire's voice snaps at the groan and cracks with disuse, making it sound almost like an animal imitating human speech rather than a (once) practiced French tongue. R doesn't mean to speak so harshly as the first words he says to his involuntary visitor, but he was very alarmed by the sound. He'd been alone for a while.

Jesus Christ, no wonder he fell. He doesn't think.

But he's too beautiful not to be a little stupid, Grantaire decides to himself as he watches carefully- from several feet away. He moves from a full sit to draw his knees up and brace his feet on the ground, in case the hunter makes him need to move quickly. The cave wasn't much for room, be he was willing to share the space and his (some-stolen, some-purchased) medical supplies with the stranger after carrying the injured man out of danger.

For all that he went through, R is surprised that he's awake so soon. Midday sunshine was beaming its way through the mouth of the cave onto him, which may have been what disturbed him. Not that it excuses his trying to use a broken limb. Half of his were broken, and that's twice the reason to stay put. Grantaire was quite relieved he had found this place to escape from the tribe when he felt too numb and paralyzed and testy to be around the others. It was even better for this guy, right now. R hadn't been with others in some time. Part of him hoped the wolves thought he'd been killed for a trophy. Another part of him hoped that would actually happen.

That was part of the reason he was now in an even worse position than usual: back to the idiot. Grantaire, like most of them, wasn't always a monster. If one of the beasts was frightened away, fought off, or just tired, a human victim of its boredom or hunger might survive an attack.

If one survives being bitten, someone like R might be thrown away from their human society and chased away as a monster. That was many years ago, and he's since gone far from that place. The curse changed even his "human" appearance too much for anyone who knew him as a young teenager to recognize him. Hurt, anger, fear, any strong emotions will trigger a transformation; they didn't chase a village boy away, they frightened off the Beast.

R found the Beast they were looking for, weeks later: the monster who almost cost him a leg. The Beast won't trouble his family or take any more children from them. It was another year of isolation before he discovered there were "packs." And he didn't fit in well there, either.

Now, back to the topic children, his nostrils flared as he tried to detect any fear or suspicion from Redcoat. A mess of black curls and a loose knit cap hid his pointed ears. He stayed away for the sake of, well, decency- and so his guest wouldn't happen see his sharp canines. Without getting close enough to really look at his mouth or ears, he should be able to pass as a vagrant. Or something.

Grantaire had reasoned that he should appear human for as long as it took to make the hunter understand he was a friend. Er- well, that R wasn't going to hurt him. In fact, he saved him. And that was a very stupid thing to do, all things considered. Maybe Redcoat wasn't the most idiotic, after all. Or maybe R did want to die that seriously when he decided to do this. ]

[ The gruff voice from the corner almost makes Enjolras jump up and hit his head a second time, it spooks him so badly. The man, scraggly and cast half-shadow from the cave's curves, is older than me, though only by five or so years, if he had to guess; it's hard to say, between the aforementioned shadow and the pounding in his own head.

He emits a low groan, closing his eyes as he turns his head from examining his presumed savior back to the ceiling. ]

I'm getting that.

[ A beat passes before the wheels in his still aching head turn further, trying to process everything that comes from laying in a cramped cave with an apparently altruistic vagabond with unexplained survival skills. Eyes still closed, he attempts to answer a few of the questions running through his mind: ]

...I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but who are you exactly? How did we end up here? Were we...has a night already passed, in the woods?

Good. You fell into a ditch. Hard. You're lucky to be alive. Broken arm, broken shoulder... At least. You were out yesterday, but I expected at least two days so you startled me. [ He can't help but chuckle at that, once. It's been a while since something shocked him and for some reason it felt very nostalgically human. ]

Once you get over the shock and wake up, you'll be hungry. I have stale bread and some wine.

[ He spoke roughly and matter-of-factly, not quite sure if he can be kind yet given the state of Redcoat's health (and his idiocy) and what he likes to do in his free time. The rescue's apparent altruism comes from R observing the other man prior-- when he's not chasing down things that look like himself. R had seen him once. ...Maybe twice. He didn't risk making many appearances, but somehow his eyes always found the blond when he'd gone into town.

He shrugs and sighs when he realizes he didn't answer his question. It's fair, but he realizes he'd spent 28 hours worrying about what he was trying to do, and none of it actually preparing for him to wake. ]

I'm no one important. I just saw what happened to you, and I live around here. I store supplies in this shelter, so it seemed ideal to bring you here.

[ It might be the concussion, but it takes Enjolras a few moments to process through what exactly he's been told. "A ditch" feels more than a little bit of a euphemism, given the subsequent explanation of the fall's results...that however, he can believe all too well. Even lying flat, barely able to look back at his scraggly savior in the corner of his eye, he can feel the sharp, throbbing ache of the various broken parts of his body. ]

I--thank you. For the food, saving me, all of it. [ He feels like an idiot, lying flat on his back, staring up at rock and trying to come up with a meaningful way to pass on his gratitude to a total stranger. ] I hadn't realized I'd already been out the long. I may need some help with the food, if I'm not supposed to move...if I can impose on you further.

[ There's another pause while he tries in vain to fight the thought persistently nagging at him, making his head throb even worse. ] You live here? How do you survive the nights?

[ R snorts and shakes his head in response to the incredulous tone. ] I stay here sometimes. My family is terrible but I have a home with them. Not in Cormeilles - farther down the river.

[ Furrowing his eyebrows and glancing to the fire. ] Smaller place, less folks.

[ He realizes he's incredibly bad at lying about this, so he goes with the truth, while skirting around it. Something about this was making him nervous. Grantaire hadn't shared a space with someone who didn't know about his curse since being bitten. --Let alone someone who despised and wanted to wipe the curse off the map.

Not that R could blame him, honestly. But at the same time, he had mixed feelings on the idea of being killed for something that wasn't his fault. At the very least, let it be one of the many shitty choices he made in life that sentenced him. The mix of thoughts run through his head as he carefully keeps his mouth closed before coming closer to the invalid. Five paces and he's close enough to offer Redcoat a hand- to his good arm- to pull him perpendicular. His nostrils flare and his lips barely part for the breath he needs.

He wished he hadn't saved so much of the wine for the blonde. ]

I'm Grantaire.

Wh--

[ Enjolras wants to pry further, tease out what would possess the stranger to 'stay' in a place that had doomed other men to an early death, but he has been unconsciously leaning to his side while he tries to make out the man's features and character, and it is in that moment that his already stressed shoulder decides to give out. He hisses from the sharp pain, quickly leaning back to rest back on the ground again. ]

...nice to meet you, Grantaire. [ A slow, heavy breath while he rides through the sharp throb in his shoulder and arm, radiating down to his fingers and side. He's never been incapable of handling pain, but having it seemingly on parts of his body he didn't know he could injure half makes him wish the fall had done him in.

After a beat, the throbbing feeling gets less harsh, and he's able to take the other man's hand and let himself be manuvuered. ] I'm Enjolras, of Cormeilles. Sorry that we're not meeting under better circumstances.

I wish your circumstances were better, I'll agree to that.

[ He almost grins but pulls his lip instead into a tight grimace. It's an easy and innocuous adjustment, given that he is sympathetic to how much pain the other must be in. Enjolras. The name repeats in R's mind three times, committing it to memory. "Red Coat" had taken its place for a long time while he contemplated the juxtaposition he found in the strangely beautiful hunter. Grantaire first saw him and listened- and it never left him. Never had he been struck dumb by a voice and a face, but something about Enjolras had captured his attention raptly. The juxtaposition of something- someone- that was so lovely with savagery ingrained in its voice and expression, he couldn't forget.

Eloquent words from a charming man- the ridiculous reason R was finally going to meet his end. ]

I have something for your pain; are you okay here for a moment while I retrieve it? [ R asked him quietly, gingerly holding the small of his back and his elbow to help him into a sitting position that he hoped was manageable. To see the savage man now, so hurt and helpless- it was horribly wrong. There was feeling in Grantaire that he didn't know he could manage anymore as he'd worried and hoped he would wake.

Enjolras. ]

{ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ ʜᴏᴡʟs ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴠᴇɪɴs }

no dialogue for u, only fluffy exposition

[ FLOOF INTENSIFIES ] how did i get the lore bit of this it was your idea--

kissu!! ur problem now, no takebacksies~

no subject

this underwhelming post brought to you by prosecco, the nikki new years drink of choice

i still can't believe i forgot E would need help with basic shit why am i bad at lifeverything-

u probably assumed he'd move himself around like a slug out of stubbornness, which is fair

"if i can't do it myself it's not worth it" -e, probably