First Person: [The image on the screen moves around shakily, the young woman holding the pocket-watch trying to make sense of it. Finally, there's a close up of her dark eye before she pulls back, frowning at it, and the image seems to still.] This isn't a pocket-watch I've ever seen. It doesn't wind, there's just-- What does-- oh! [She's pushed a button, an an image of herself, as she appears in the watch, pops up. After a moment, she smiles at it, pushing her hair out of her eyes and straightening out her hat.]
It's a small mirror. With more buttons, but it's a watch. Wonder where it came from. I didn't bring it with me to the barricade, and I didn't loot any corpses. I was the-- [She stills, glancing around her.] I was the first to die.
Perhaps this place is hell. [She laughs, tossing her head back.] What a fine thing it is! Me, in hell, with only a mirror to look at myself with and think of all the things I've done! And here I thought my fate would be worse!
Third Person: The last thing Eponine remembered, before the train, was looking up into the eyes of Marius Pontmercy, shivering as blood left her body to mingle with the rain that fell. She remembered, she was sure Marius had kissed her on the forehead, but perhaps, that was just the jolt of the train coming to a stop.
Eponine opened her eyes and looked around as she stood up, assessing her surroundings. She was on a train and had apparently been laying down on one of the benches. Looking down, she realized the dark stain of her own blood on her chemise was only just beginning to dry. But… She reached down and gingerly touched it. Her skin, where the bullet had pierced her, was solid.
Where the hell was she?
She was the only person here, was the next thing she noticed, followed shortly by the darkening skies and mist outside. Adjusting her hat, she made up her mind then and there to find a way out of this train. It didn't take long, marching in a straight line till she found a door leading out to the platform.
"Hello?" She called, her voice low and hoarse. This was not Paris. This was… nowhere she'd ever been. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she began to search for some sort of indication where she was. Or, better yet, how the hell she was still alive. She'd taken a bullet to the stomach. She'd felt her life leaving her. She had her blood on her shirt, and yet, she was living, breathing.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" She called louder this time, slowly beginning to traverse the platform. "This isn't a place I've ever been, and I'd like to know where I am! Or if I'm alone- which is hardly unusual- Then, I--!" she cut off with a small shriek as the train behind her blows the whistle and speeds off into the blackness.
Eponine watched the train as it disappeared, hardly daring to breathe in the intense silence that followed the departure of the train. Once again, she realized, as she stuffed her hands into what was now her over-sized coat, she was completely and utterly alone. Despite that grim fact, she couldn't help but smile into the blackness, a hoarse laugh bubbling from her throat. Alone. Of course. She was always alone, why should death be any different?
[CANON] ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER || Les Misérables || reserve || 4 of 4
It's a small mirror. With more buttons, but it's a watch. Wonder where it came from. I didn't bring it with me to the barricade, and I didn't loot any corpses. I was the-- [She stills, glancing around her.] I was the first to die.
Perhaps this place is hell. [She laughs, tossing her head back.] What a fine thing it is! Me, in hell, with only a mirror to look at myself with and think of all the things I've done! And here I thought my fate would be worse!
Third Person: The last thing Eponine remembered, before the train, was looking up into the eyes of Marius Pontmercy, shivering as blood left her body to mingle with the rain that fell. She remembered, she was sure Marius had kissed her on the forehead, but perhaps, that was just the jolt of the train coming to a stop.
Eponine opened her eyes and looked around as she stood up, assessing her surroundings. She was on a train and had apparently been laying down on one of the benches. Looking down, she realized the dark stain of her own blood on her chemise was only just beginning to dry. But… She reached down and gingerly touched it. Her skin, where the bullet had pierced her, was solid.
Where the hell was she?
She was the only person here, was the next thing she noticed, followed shortly by the darkening skies and mist outside. Adjusting her hat, she made up her mind then and there to find a way out of this train. It didn't take long, marching in a straight line till she found a door leading out to the platform.
"Hello?" She called, her voice low and hoarse. This was not Paris. This was… nowhere she'd ever been. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she began to search for some sort of indication where she was. Or, better yet, how the hell she was still alive. She'd taken a bullet to the stomach. She'd felt her life leaving her. She had her blood on her shirt, and yet, she was living, breathing.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" She called louder this time, slowly beginning to traverse the platform. "This isn't a place I've ever been, and I'd like to know where I am! Or if I'm alone- which is hardly unusual- Then, I--!" she cut off with a small shriek as the train behind her blows the whistle and speeds off into the blackness.
Eponine watched the train as it disappeared, hardly daring to breathe in the intense silence that followed the departure of the train. Once again, she realized, as she stuffed her hands into what was now her over-sized coat, she was completely and utterly alone. Despite that grim fact, she couldn't help but smile into the blackness, a hoarse laugh bubbling from her throat. Alone. Of course. She was always alone, why should death be any different?