Word Count: 210
Note: I had to cut down the first line a bit, because it just doesn't work when you're writing about two female characters. This is totally late, by the way. >_> But it's something.
She is aware that the two of them are the first and also the last of the young wild dogs of war. For the moment.
Lumière, if asked, will, very calmly and elegantly, rattle off a list of the ways her fellow ES members went (went, not died, because ES members aren’t allowed to die. Eclipse doesn't need a quantum biology lab to bring them all back, but it helps). Tweedledee and Tweedledum died in a hail of plastic bullets, which neither of them could deflect. Cesario couldn't power Viola's ability forever. Sinistra and Dextera were shot down in orbit. A-ou and Un-ou disappeared—deserted—quietly when the Great Rebellion started and hadn't been seen since.
Éclair, if asked, will pummel walls in her ineffectual fury, because if there's one thing she's good at, it's ineffectual fury. And being indestructible, which doesn't help when her comrades are dying around her and she can't do anything about it. Just because she knows that they'll come back to life doesn't mean that it hurts any less.
Éclair and Lumière have been alive forever, which is, once you understand forever, a very short time; between them they know just about everything there is to know, but they still don't know how to grieve.