Once upon a time...

[timefather]

[ For the residents of Märchenstraße, and all the land surrounding it, the eighth of December was a day to look forward to. Looking at it from an outside perspective, strangers and travelers could easily assume it to be a holiday. At the very least, a day for a festival, if a modest one. A day that shopkeeps spent all morning preparing for, that all manner of creatures spent days traveling to the city to witness. They'd heard the talk that passed around, the rumors from those still left. But would it work? No one knew for sure, no matter how confident the stories seemed to be. But hope was very quickly becoming all they had left.

They had decorated the whole town. Streamers, banners, wreathes and garland made of autumn flowers, plus whatever the Fairy Godmother had cooked up. Oh, she was just giddy. No skepticism could be spoken around her, not if you wanted to escape the wrath of her wand! Rumor had it that she had caught wind of a few piglets squealing about the likelihood that their magic would fail, and that they were subsequently transformed into the band of musicians who could be found performing in the park.

Well, at least the music was festive.

Of course, the decorations weren't for the newcomers alone. Autumn was coming to a close in just a few weeks, and Old Man Winter would take the reigns like he did every year, and their weather would turn cold and harsh. The chill was already there, cool and biting when the wind picked up speed. Lady Autumn was much preferred to the citizens of the city with her gentle nature, even if she failed to show up, finishing her work in the orchards instead. That was what they liked about her.

It was mid-morning when Father Time was found outside of his tower, checking one of the numerous pocket watches he kept on his person. "Unnecessary, but comfortable," he called them, and closed the watch again. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and where empty space had been just seconds before, now they were. Sitting on benches, lying in flower patches, scattered about the city and outside of the gates in peaceful slumber. They would awaken to the bells of the clock tower. Some, to many friendly and relieved faces all around them, some to grateful ones carrying gifts of food and clothing and magic, and some to fearful, cautious faces. Regardless of how the town treated them, they would awaken to a celebration of their arrival, and choices to be made, and the books. Each and every one. ]

Comments

[gardienne]

[She tries jumping - but it obviously doesn't work. So she tries jumpingvwith her eyes closed. Again, she falls.]

Why can I not fly? It is my dream, no?

[But even as she speaks, a villager presses a journal, a few bundles of matches abd a tatty old apron into Eponine's hands, before turning away again. Eponine looks confusedly at the items, spelling out the name on the book.]

The Little Match Girl.

[petitgamin]

... Who's the Little Match Girl? [It seems like the most obvious question to be asking]

[gardienne]

I do not know.

[She strokes the cover before opening it.]

The pages are blank.

[But she looks at the bunches of matches which were handed to her.]

Do they think I am her?

[petitgamin]

Might do. They're givin' her stuff to you, so they must think you're her. But you aen't her... are you?

[gardienne]

Have you ever known Papa to have me sell a match? There is no money in that. I do not sell matches.

[petitgamin]

Aen't rightly sure what Pa has you do. Trys to keeps out of it, I does.

[gardienne]

Then you are lucky that you can.

[She sighs and shakes her head.]

It is no matter. Gavroche, did you not get handed a book? A book of all things - are these people mad? Or rich? I do wonder why they stare.

[petitgamin]

[Gavroche makes the mental note to go back to the area he woke up in] Could 'ave done, I suppose. Didn't really look to see, to be 'onest about it, 'Ponine. Was more curious about where I was now. [He hasn't noticed the starin' so much. Or more, well, he lives among the poorest of the poor. He's used to the staring]

[gardienne]

You did not look at a book? Are you mad? Do you know how much we could get - five francs at least. Perhaps ten if we go well. We could eat for a week or more - every day! And you did not look...

[She seems to have all about forgotten that Gavroche is hovering above her in her concern about her own fate.]

Gavroche, what has happened to us? What do we do now?

[petitgamin]

[He thinks about this seriously, folding his arms over his chest. In doing so his legs float up behind him, and he's stretched out on the air. He doesn't notice] I reckon we should play along till we find out more. Aen't like we're hurtin' nobody.

[gardienne]

So sell matches whilst you fly?

[Reluctantly, she unfolds the tattered apron that was handed to her along with the matches and wrinkles her nose.]

It is a sad thing when even your dreams leave you in rags.

[petitgamin]

Maybe summat grand'll happen. [He pulls on his coat a little] Aen't been given any clothes meself.

[gardienne]

[She wraps her apron about her arms, using it as a shawl.]

Well, I am not sharing this. You have a coat, don't you?

[Then she realises.] Gavroche? If we are in a strange world, or a dream or - well, I do not know, for I feel awake - you haven't seen Papa, have you? Or Montparnasse, or the rest of them?

[petitgamin]

Aen' askin' you to share! C'n find my own gear! [He considers this, thinking back in his memory so far] Saw Grantaire, aen't seen others.

[gardienne]

[She has no idea who Grantaire is, so she simply shrugs. Must be one of Gavroche's urchin friends.]

I suppose you can. You are quick with your fingers, are you not?

[petitgamin]

Aen't gonna go on the rob 'ere.

[gardienne]

No? What makes you think it will be different from Paris, Gavroche?

[She picks at the bottom of her skirt]

Things don't change by magic, little brother.

[petitgamin]

[...] I c'n fly. [What was that about magic?]

[gardienne]

[Shut up. She's still the same.]

Well then, go and fly away and take your good fortune with you. And I suppose I...

[She looks utterly fed up. How does Gavroche have such a nice surprise? She pockets her matches.]

I suppose I will find Pa. I suppose I...

[She's going to go to her death. But what can she do? She shrugs.]

Au revoir, Gavroche.

[petitgamin]

But 'Ponine ... [But what can he say? He doesn't know.] ... Until we see each other again, 'Ponine.