pushbackthedarkness | (no subject)

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eponine

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These days, Marcus doesn't smoke as much as he used to, especially when he's working a shift at the Children's Home, but every now and again he gets the urge and so this night finds him sitting just outside the front door of the Home on a bench, one boot propped up against the ledge of the wall, a cigarette in one hand and a pencil in the other.

He's sketching in his Bible, casually filling the margins with drawings of birds in flight. Bennett had always especially hated the birds for some reason and now Marcus draws them on the rare occasions when he's missing the other man. They'd never been friends, but they'd been allies, and in a life like Marcus Keane's, an ally had tended to count for more than a fried ever could.

And although he's on a break, he's also on the lookout for Eponine, who's once again out past curfew. The other staff are far more worried than he is, because while Marcus is well aware something is out of sorts in the Home, he doesn't think it has anything at all to do with Eponine. He's eliminating possibilities one by one and if there's a demon in her, it's more than just well hidden. If she's out past curfew, either she's avoiding the same things he's hunting or, equally as possible, she's just being a teenager.

Still, when he sees her walking up the dark street on the arm of a boy, he can't help but watch with an amused smirk. Given the way she's walking, he suspects she's been drinking, suspects the boy she's with is probably responsible for that, too, but he says nothing, just smokes in the low light of the front door and waits for her to see him.

If she's here, she's probably intending on ending her night out, but he has to wonder if the boy is aware of her plans.

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She nods solemnly, as though this is a sacred duty, and so it might be, who knows? It is coming from a priest. Or an ex-priest. Which is funnier than it should be.

It should sound ridiculous as well, searching for a possessed child in an orphanage, but nothing that is happening in this place can surprise her at this point. Not regarding the Children's Home. "I can find a cross, I'm sure," she says, thinking. Why, Cosette would probably be happy to see her wearing something like that, brought up by nuns as she was, and she could easily excuse a sort of latent Catholicism on her French upbringing. She is religious in that way, a bit, not in a way that holds a crucifix, but still might whisper prayers on the off chance once in a while.

But if it'll stop all of this from getting worse, she'll get a whole rosary.

But injuries... "I don't want to -- snitch if it turns out it's only someone hurting themselves," she says, tentatively. "I know that we ought tell an adult, the other carers look for it, too. But you ought to tell the Home about this, too, and I don't think you will," she adds, pushing carelessness to the front as she gestures to them and where she was standing with the boy. "Sometimes it's better, to do the harm yourself..."

Eponine's being more honest than she ought to be, too, more than she is with anyone save Beverly, but she can blame that on the drink come morning.

She presses her lips together. "Is there any sort of harm a demon might do someone? That I could tell apart? Something meaningful?"

Edited 2018-04-19 02:06 (UTC)

"I know," he says and he hopes Eponine can hear the sincerity in his voice. She can't see his shoulder and he's not about to start taking off his jacket to show her now, but he will at some point. He has to, he thinks, after this conversation. To show her he's not just saying things for the sake of saying them. The marks on his shoulder are a tattoo now, a choice he made to darken the scars he put there himself as a child, but if she knows about self harm and the thoughts and feelings that go into it, she'll recognize them for what they once were.

It's not something he's done in years and he hasn't felt the urge, doesn't imagine he ever will again, but Marcus understands better than most might think.

"I do, duck, I can tell you that much," he says. "And I can also tell you unless there's danger to someone's life, I won't go to the other carers with any of what you tell me. They won't know what they're dealing with when it comes to the demon and... well, I might be the better bet in either case. Given that I've lived in one of these places myself."

He considers her question more thoroughly and nods. "In my experience, they tend to be partial to burns far more than cutting," he says. "Curling irons, hair straighteners, even frying pans and the like. You might notice an uptick in someone feeling ill. Needing to be alone. Things like that."

He sounds like he does know, and for not the first time, Eponine wonders about the boy's home he's spoken about before, wonders about before, what got him there and how much he does understand.

He calls her duck, and she should shy from it, toughen against that sort of affection that creeps in and makes you weak. She should put up walls against an older man who needs her for something, who's willing to keep secrets. And she will, perhaps, in the morning. But right now she hasn't slept or even eaten properly in a while, and Marcus is trusting her with his own suspicions, isn't he, and it's like he hasn't even noticed that small bit of affection.

It's a bit of safety, for tonight. It's nice. It's nice to have something to do, too.

"I can look for that," she says, and nods solemnly. "I'll give you any information I get. I'm good at seeing things, at keeping them quiet," Ponine adds. "Always was at home."

She sighs a little and leans against him all at once. "I have to go back, tonight, don't I."

Edited 2018-04-21 04:18 (UTC)

He wishes he could tell her no, that she doesn't have to go back there, and he supposes if she really doesn't want to, she doesn't have to, but when it comes to the options she has, they're limited. The workers at the home will come looking for her and if he offers to let her stay the night, he's sure he'll lose his position as a volunteer. It's different with Verity, because he signs her out, makes sure they know she's with him, but they're probably already expecting Eponine to be in her bed right now.

And instead she's out here with him. That's probably enough to get them both into trouble already.

"You do," he says and he hates it. "I know it isn't easy right now, but I swear I'm doing all I can to make it safe again."

She feels a little flare of jealousy of Verity, right at that moment, of Beverly too, and it's not either of their faults that they have people, nor that Marcus is one of the only people old enough to count that she'd consider tolerable enough to stay with. She doesn't begrudge them, exactly, even.
It's more just that she shouldn't have to stay here.

"I know," she says, and she's quietly uncertain if he'll be able to do anything, but she knows that he's doing what he can.

Then Eponine takes a breath and shakes it, lifting her head. "It's better this way, anyway," she says loftily, waving a hand, and unfolds herself, getting up and brushing off her dress, offering him a hand. "If I go back, I can report to you, like a good little spy, and we can get rid of this thing. I don't know why I'm acting such a child. Demon or not, it's a good bit better than the bridges were. That'll get into your head, in the winter. Just let some demon try to spook me after all that."

Edited 2018-04-30 03:32 (UTC)

"If you do need to get away, I've always a couch," he says. Verity will vouch for him, as will some of the other children, he's sure. And he'd be happy to let Kat talk to Eponine as well. "We've only got to make sure we do that through the proper channels. I need to keep my volunteer position in order to help whoever it is that might be possessed."

And, if he lets himself think about it honestly, he needs his volunteer position just because he needs it. Because it gives him something to do besides think about his life and draw. Marcus doesn't need the money or he'd find work, but if he can't work with the Church again, then he knows the Children's Home is the right place for him to be. It's a place where he can truly help people, even if it's just with their homework.

Besides, he's always liked kids.

"Bridges," he echoes, shaking his head. "What bridges?"

It's so very on the mark, and said so casually without any to-do or sighing over it, that Eponine blinks, feeling unsettled, as though he must have read her mind or as though she's revealed too much about her quiet wishes. But she doesn't think she has. It's simply that Marcus doesn't see a problem with it. She nods. "I'll be all right," she says carefully, not wanting to appear too anxious to take advantage of his kindness, "but every once in a while, that might be nice. Just a little break, if the staff is all right with it, so you can keep an eye on this place. And so I can," she adds, liking the idea that she has a job of some import.

She shrugs and starts to braid part of her hair away from her face, for want of something to do with nervous hands. "We didn't have the rent, always," she says bluntly, dispassionately "so time was we'd sleep where we might. Especially starting out, we didn't know well enough where to look for a bit of assistance. Azelma - my sister - and I, we'd stay under the bridges when it got cold. Keeps the snow off, you see, but that chill and a few nights hungry and the shadows can look eerie on the river. If I ever get too frightened, I can just say to myself, Ponine, you've thought you might die or go mad, and you haven't done either, so there."

Yet. In Paris, she's dead, she knows, but she doesn't have to go home, yet.

He knows it's how people live, how they've lived in the past, how they live now, and yet it still hurts to hear her speak of it with such ease. Without the Church, for all its faults, he'd have likely found himself in the same position, starved and desperate for a little bit of warmth. The home and the Church and Father Sean had certainly all been cruel, but at least he'd always had a place to stay. Food in his belly. A warm bed, if not necessarily a comfortable life.

"Well, at least the home here gives you a place to sleep," he says with a sigh. It's far from perfect, especially given the circumstances there now, but it's better than a lot of other options. And it's better than the places he's stayed in his own life. The staff do their best to swiftly put any bullying to bed and he knows it must still happen, but it's not the sort of violence he'd endured.

"I know that's hardly a comfort, especially with things as they are now. I just... I hate to think of you having to live under a bridge."

"And food, too," she says, airily -- even if that food was off sometimes these days -- "so you see? I'm just complaining about nothing. Poor little Eponine, with a spooky bedroom. This place is spoiling me, I swear."

He's so gentle about his reassurance, though, and his regret so genuine and hesitating about what to her is simply a fact of life for years now. It's almost hard to listen to, tugging at something in her chest that she keeps locked away. In Paris no one looked twice at a couple of half-grown wraiths haunting the underside of a bridge, or if they did it was with distaste; their father would have just exclaimed at their chapped hands and frozen hair as fortuitously pitiful and sent them off to beg charity.

"You're a good man, monsieur Marcus," she says quietly, and leans up to kiss him on the cheek.

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