irma_boissy: (Watching behind bars)
2013-05-25 06:42 pm

Dandelions and windows.

Despite the fact that everyone in the house asked and wondered who left those dandelions,  (and even some of them suspected that they were for Irma), Irma did not say a thing.

Even if she knew everything about them and didn't even need to guess who was the mysterious gentleman who left them. 

It had been Monsieur Grantaire. 

Maybe she was waiting for another visit of his, maybe not, but the next two nights, she had barely slept.

irma_boissy: (Default)
2013-04-29 01:46 pm
Entry tags:

Words, words, words (Quotes for our dear Irma)

(Because the mun likes to copy ideas and this one was amazing and even though many of them may not make sense, they kinda do to me.)

For some we loved, the loveliest and best
That from His rolling vintage Time has pressed,
Have drunk their glass a round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest

-Omar Khayyam, Rubbaiyat [trans. Edward Fitzgerald]

They say best men are molded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad.

-
William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

When I think that you are gone
black shadow that amazes me,
by my bedside you turn,
there, mocking me.

-
Rosalía de Castro, Negra Sombra [trans. by yours truly]

To have courage for whatever comes in life — everything lies in that.

- St. Teresa de Jesús.

I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies
.

- St. John of the Cross, Dark night of the soul

irma_boissy: (Dolled up)
2013-04-27 04:43 pm

Le temps des cerises (headcanon fic about many things)



Madame Boissy was a respected woman among her neighbours. A 61 year old lady who had been a hard worker almost all her life, and a renowned beauty in her youth, she was always of a kind and polite disposition towards everyone despite the terrible things she had gone through.

She was alone, with only her traditions to keep herself sane.

Among those there was an annual visit to the Café Musain, the place where,  as people would tell you, her lover died in the July revolution.

Though it was more complicated than that. She went away a year before his death, and even then she was not sure he ever really loved her.

But she... She still loves him, after all this time.

She still keeps his sketches, and most of his notes, among other mementoes. Even a flower from that time they went to the countryside. A dandelion.

That may be the reason why every July Madame Boissy visits the Musain with a dandelion and a bottle of wine, leaving them on the corner where they found Grantaire's body after a moment of the most complete silence, and only talking if some of the youngest patrons (the old ones did know better) asked her for who was that.

And all of this out of some stubborn impulse. Because she didn't want him and his friends to be forgotten. Because she wanted to show him that their deaths held meaning, even if for just one person.

Still, the surprised faces of the boys  near the Café Musain have reasons. It is two months early for her annual visit, and she has decided to go almost in the middle of a skirmish.

But the bullets flying over her head don't seem to matter as she approaches the Café, wearing her best dress and carrying a bag with her in one hand and the ever present dandelion in the other.

Nothing else matters to her as much as reaching her destiny in time.

And the owner (the new owner, despite it's been almost a decade since his mother died) opens the door when he sees her despite the risks he takes doing so.

(She always leaves generous tips. Generous enough for her small annual shrine to stay in its place and grant her those moments without herself getting kicked out.)

"Madame Boissy, I didn't expect to see you so early in the year." He says, genuinely surprised.

"I am afraid I might not be able to come back again, my dear boy." She states simply "And I wanted to say goodbye."

She puts a small purse of money in his hands.

And he hugs her like a little scared boy.

"Go back home, Madame." He tries to hand her back the money, but she refuses.

"It's all good, mon cher." she pats him on the back, slipping the money into one of his pockets, before she does go upstairs.

The Musain's second floor is empty aside from Madame Boissy, who reaches to the point where the flower, now petal-less, and the bottle of wine from the last year rest.

Carefully, she takes them away and replaces them with the new, fresh dandelion and the bottle of wine. It's probably the best wine bottle she ever bought and the prettiest dandelion she could ever find.

Then she sits, holding the bag that carries her box close to her chest, and admires the picture the bottle and the flower make in silence for what seems an eternity.

"I think I owe you an explanation for such an early visit." she breaks the silence. "Even if you think I don't. Or if you don't even care."

She sighs

"I do care. That's why I need to tell you that this is my last visit." she admits "I'm an old woman that only has her traditions to keep herself entertained and forget how alone she is."

"Which is too much. All my friends are either dead or so far away from Paris that my old bones would not be able to stand the whole journey. And my family..."

"My family... They are gone too. Another revolution took the twins. They who so wanted to join you and les Amis and ended up imitating your friend Enjolras sixteen years later. And idiot of me that though I could stop them."

Without her noticing it, a tear falls down her right cheek.

"My mother did not last a year after their deaths. And Helène followed her a month after, faithful to her as always." there's a bitter smile. "And Alexandre. He has a grave but that grave will never have a body inside it..."

And neither her would have a reason why he ended in the Seine, as many told her.

"Even Agnès. Agnès who I hoped would have the happiness that God seemed to forbid the rest of the family. Agnès who married a count and had two beautiful boys, died giving birth to a third one."

She clutches the box as close as her arms allow.

"I did what I've always done. Soldier on and continue living."

"But I am tired of everything.  Any matter I had on this earth is solved. My money given to those who need it, as well as the few possessions I have. Except this damned box. I can't bear to part  with it and that's partly because of you. And because I am an idiot and I still hold to what was. Or what I like to think that was."

And she was sure their accounts would differ.

"The thing is... You'll think it ridiculous, you'll laugh."  She bites her lip. "But the moments we were together were probably the happiest of my life. Or at least among them, because you brought me out of a dark place and made me feel alive. That I was something beyond a daughter and a sister, despite how much I've always loved my family. I think that's why it hurt so much when I left. And so much more when you..."

"... when you decided to be brave for once and join your friends."

She hears a sound, like glass breaking. But she doesn't look to any place but down.

"I thought of burning the box. Burning all your notes praising my beauty. That flower you gave me. Your sketches. Those letters I never sent. Saving the mementoes that weren't yours but burning you..."
 
Her throat hurts.

"... burning you out of my life."

"If your soul was lingering in this place, I bet it would have ran away after this confession." she jokes "But I miss you. As sad it seems, I've missed you for 30 years, despite..."
 
She feels a warm liquid running down her neck and her shoulder.

"You thought yourself a coward... But you were as brave as your friends when the time came."

With weak hands she reaches for her neck.

"I was the coward."

There is a piece of glass stuck to it. 

The only link she has to life. If she retires it, she'll bleed whatever she has left in her body.

But still...

"I'm ready." She smiles.

It hurts when she retires the glass. But the next thing as the blood leaves her body is that she begins to fall asleep.

She feels calm. As calm as she hasn't felt in ages.

And when she wakes up and stands up, she looks at her hands. They are not the weak, old hands that held the piece of glass. Those belong to the old lady on the chair who looks as if she were asleep.

They are the young hands that had yet to see years of work. And the face she sees before the broken glass of the window is that of her young self.

Voices call her. 

Irma... Sister... My child...

She passes by the side of the owner, who goes to the rescue of the old lady and cries when she doesn't answer to his call.

(Poor boy- she thinks)

Irma goes to those voices, clearer with every step she takes.

And for the first time in decades, she feels at home.

irma_boissy: (At work)
2013-04-22 12:26 pm

Another day goes (For [personal profile] fitofgrandair and/or [personal profile] checkmystache)

Otro día se va,
y eres mucho más viejo.


(Otro día se va, Los Miserables- Spanish version of "At the end of the day")

Everyday the same.

She wakes the first of all the family. She dresses herself in the corridor to let her sister and her mother sleep a bit more. Grabs a bit of the bread of the day before and the fruit that Helène, her mother's maid, (who hasn't left Mother's shadow even after Father died and they couldn't pay her) has managed to get at the market.

And gets her shawl and a kiss on the cheek from Helène, despite the eternal look of disapproval (You should be married to a nice man, not working in such a place.)

She does open the door and the day, which is barely waking up itself, welcomes her while she walks in direction to the factory, eating the fruit and minding her own business, despite the fact that one can barely do so in the streets of Paris.

 She meets with her co-workers at the door. All of them sleepy eyes and dark circles under them. But also smiles, because they are like sisters. And all seem to be around Rose, who holds a letter. Her boyfriend is coming back to Paris and is going to "ask her an important question".

(Irma could care less about said question, but is happy for Rose).

They enter and begin their work.

While all of them are embroidering, the girls joke that they should find Irma a boyfriend. And make a family of her own. That meets with laughter from Irma. She has a family of her own already, and she was a natural born spinster.

"That lady who will tell stories of all our crazy youths to your grandchildren, ladies."

They all laugh heartily, which gets them a reprimand from the supervisor, and they all continue in silence till the day reaches its end.

The end of the day and she begins the path back home after she says "See you tomorrow" to the girls.

It was another day, after all.

irma_boissy: (Calm)
2013-04-21 02:47 pm

A little timeline for our boot-embroiderer and her family and relationships (WIP)

  • 1810
    • April- Irma Boissy is born to Honoré and Marie Boissy, a parisian couple.
  • 1812
    • May- Irma's twin brothers René and Martin, are born after a long labour that almost kills Marie.
    • September- Irma's father, Honoré, is promoted in his job as a clerk.
  • 1820
    • December- In the mid of one of the coldest nights the Boissys will ever remember, Agnès, the fourth Boissy child, is born. Much to the joy of Irma, she has now a baby sister she can play with.
  • 1825
    • March- The fifth and final Boissy child, Alexandre, is born.
  • 1828
    • November- After a long illness, Honoré dies. As she knows the savings of her parents are not enough to support a family of five children, Irma manages to get a job at a shoe factory to help support her family the next week.
  • 1830
  • 1831
    • Sometime before May, Irma breaks up with Grantaire. The sentence "Grantaire is impossible" is said to a coworker when Irma is asked what happened with that student that used to accompany her.
  • 1832
    • July- The Barricades. Irma manages to keep all her family safe and sound, despite the fact that the twins threaten to join the students.
    • Sometime after knowing the news, she visits the Café Musain when it's almost going to close for the day, and asks the owner to tell her the stop where Grantaire's body was found. Every year after that there's a flower on that same spot.
  • 1834- The timeline with the officer.
irma_boissy: (Almost smile)
2013-04-20 01:42 am

"The prettiest boot-embroiderer of the day"

 Or some facts (headcanon) about Irma Boissy, that are still in progress and messily written but bear with the mun.

Born Irma Marie Boissy on 1810, She's  the oldest of five siblings, three boys and two girls, and the daughter of Honoré  and Marie Boissy, a clerk and a housewife. She led a quiet life helping her mother with the house chores and taking care of her younger siblings. It was her father's death and the fact that money ran short quickly, so Irma became a grisette, working at a small shoe factory as a boot embroiderer.
Even though she was quite the skilled worker, what she became renowned for were her pretty features that gained her many suitors. Men who she flirted with but she wasn't as interested in them as they were in her.
That until she met a student by the name of Grantaire. Very few know what happened between Irma and him, but it did not end as well as it started, prompting her to declare Grantaire to be "impossible". Not just his looks, as a gentleman by the name of Victor Hugo once thought, but his whole being (though many would say that our being reflects in our features, thus making Mr Hugo's point valid even if only by a bit, we will not discuss that here, because that was not what our dear Irma -or so she says- intended to mean).
(more to be added soon)