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Post by followedmyheart on Jan 16, 2013 20:02:25 GMT -5
 [style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] tag: Marius, Enjy?, Papaa single look and then I knew. Waiting for you, at your feet for your call. No it wasn't a dream. Not a dream after all. LOOK [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #989898;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Cosette revelled in her new dress, twirling around and around like a little school girl with her basket still in hand. She stopped before she felt too dizzy, grabbing onto her father's arm to steady herself, laughing as everything calm back into proper view. It was made from a lovely fabric sent over from England, a luscious purple that made her feel like a queen. Cosette and her father had agreed to go to the local seamstress to make her dress, to support the city they had called home for the last few years. Today was her first day wearing it and she couldn't be happier.
Cosette and her father were handing out alms to the poor this morning, a ritual she had grown accustomed to since they had begun it years ago. She was blessed by the love and comfort that God and her father had given her and it was duty to spread that good fortune among those more unfortunate than she.
Cosette had in her basket several small pouches tied with bits of ribbon. Inside each were several coins and a prayer written on a snatch of paper that Cosette had said for each small bag that she handed out. Although she never knew what became of the alms that she and her father gave, it was enough to see the delight and gratitude on those that received them.
A small blonde girl approached Cosette as her basket was nearing empty. She only had three pouches left. Cosette handed out two to the couple waiting anxiously, a baby in the young woman's arms. She then finally looked down at the girl, who was fervently tugging at her new dress' skirt and saying repeatedly "Ange, ange, c'est moi!"
"Mon petit ami," Cosette smiled brightly at the child in recognition. She had seen her not so long ago, outside her garden gate and given her a loaf of bread. Cosette bent down to the girl's height, remembering that children were less intimidated if they were eye level with whomever they spoke to. The little one's eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed from the cold, but she looked better than when she had huddled up against the wall crying. "How are you today choosette? Would you like my last alm?"
The girl nodded and watched as Cosette reached into her basket and handed her the last little pouch. Her eyes were large and innocent as her small hands wrapped around the offering as though it were from God himself. Cosette glanced at her Papa; had she been this imploringly adorable as a child? It was any wonder her father could resist giving her anything. Cosette wanted nothing more than to sweep the girl up in her arms and carry her home.
"Une minute," Cosette insisted with a sudden idea. She handed her basket to her father momentarily as she unwrapped her woolen scarf from around her neck. It was a lovely shade of coral pink, but more importantly it was incredibly warm. "Take this too."
She gently wrapped the scarf around the girl's slim neck which was so tiny that the scarf encircled three times. Cosette tucked the ends in and patted the girl on the head saying, "It will keep you warm ami and I'll say a prayer just for you."
Surprisingly, the little girl threw herself at Cosette to wrap her arms around her before shying away and merrily running off. Cosette had been so shocked she had only had time to react involuntarily. She had barely embraced the girl before she was gone, skipping merrily with the pouch gripped tightly in her frail hands. Cosette felt a mixture of pride and motherly love as she righted herself.
"That was my little friend from outside the garden Papa," she told her father as she reclaimed her basket, "the one I gave the bread to."
She watched the little girl dash across the street with a soft smile, her oceanic eyes following the skipping child until she disappeared behind two handsome young men. Cosette trailed her gaze upward curiously to the face of the one turned in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat, caught unawares, as she locked eyes with the stranger across the way.
How was it that the stars shined so brightly in the sky, that the clouds parted to allow sunbeams to illuminate the little cobblestone street on which she stood? How did the rooster know when to crow in the morning? Cosette knew none of these answers, she only knew that she had been born in this world to exist solely in this moment so that she would meet this one stranger, whom she felt she had known all her life. Her heart, guarded for so long, awoke in her chest and beat so loud in her ears she could do nothing to ignore it.
Everything swelled within her, joy and passion rendering her completely speechless. Something greater force seemed to be pulling her from where she stood, so that her soul could mesh with this other. Yet, a shock of betrayal ripped through her new-found wonder like lightening across a storming sky. Her heart had only ever been occupied by one person. She had spent her whole life loving her father. He was everything. It felt too selfish a desire to try and make room for someone else. Wouldn't she have to lose love in one place to gain it in another?
"Papa," Cosette reached out blindly for her father's arm, her eyes still locked with the young man across the street. Her father would know what to do; he was the wisest man she knew.
Would the young man disappear if she blinked? Cosette dared herself to close her eyes momentarily, suddenly terrified to open them. What if he had only been a figment of her imagination? Some prince her lonely heart had dreamed up to fulfill her desolate days? Cosette inhaled deeply, reminding herself that one of the earliest lessons her father had taught her was bravery. Her curiosity was too great and it overwhelmed her fear, fluttering her eyes back open.
Alas, he was still there! Her cheeks flushed immediately; everything about her coming into question. Was her hair arranged neatly? Did he like her new dress? She knew none of it mattered, only he mattered. What was his name? What did he do with his time? Did he like music? Did he like her?
Cosette took an unknowing step forward before stopping herself. It was too improper for her to cross the street and introduce herself. How the nuns would chastise such unladylike manners. Besides, he was surely made of starlight, and would shatter into brilliance if she so much as brushed her hand against his. [/style] |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 18, 2013 13:11:17 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST ` MUST BE JAVERT HE'S FOUND MY COVER THIS IS A WARNING TO US ALL WE MUST AWAY TIME TO LIVE ANOTHER DAWN AND LIVE ANOTHER - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - day | | [atrb=width,240] Valjean watched his daughter fondly, keeping an eye on her in the busy streets of Paris. As she spun, he could still see the little girl he had taken into his heart nine years ago. She had only grown more beautiful with time, but he would not admit to himself that she was now a young lady, and not just his little girl. He was gratified to be there to steady her when Cosette wavered from the giddy dizziness of her twirl; it made him think for a brief moment that she still needed him.
As much as he enjoyed spoiling his daughter – and buying the bolt of fabric from England for a rich new dress was most certainly spoiling her – he also knew that money could be well spent on those in need. Cosette never objected, and seemed to enjoy alms-giving as much as he did. He was immensely proud of her, and loved her all the more for her compassionate heart. Rather than feeling a pang of guilt for taking his daughter in her luxurious finery to the most destitute part of the city, as if to show off what he had and the poor did not, he could only be grateful that she would go even in a nice gown to be among those in need.
Soon enough, grubby little hands were seizing the expensive fabric in admiration, just as eagerly as larger hands were reaching for the bags of coins. Valjean could only pray that the people who were taking the money were also taking the even-more-vital spiritual wealth that was written in the form of prayers or pieces of scripture. The impoverished did not go to grand cathedrals like Notre Dame, but they had to cling to God much more than the wealthy for their daily bread. More than one person who depended upon “the generous man from St-Etienne's church” and his daughter had called them God's angels.
Looking on, Valjean observed Cosette's interaction with a little girl, who bore some resemblance to Cosette half her life ago. If his eyes were not locked on his daughter, they would glance about to ensure the safety of their surroundings before fixing on her once more. As it was, he subtly glanced around to make sure none of their dependents were staring at Cosette as she bent over to speak to the child. Satisfied that no young man in the vicinity was being untoward, he met Cosette's gaze when she turned to him, taking the basket from her as she desired so she could pull off her scarf. He had just bought it for her. But he felt no pain in her giving it away, only a stab of pride at his daughter's unthinking generosity.
“Yes, I remember,” Valjean murmured, turning his face away momentarily to blink away the tears that had welled up in his eyes, not from the brutal cold. He knew exactly how Cosette felt, the responsibility of caring for another. Overwhelmingly intense.
He exhaled, then tensed as Cosette's hand grappled for his arm, her breathless uttering of his name, Papa, freezing him. “Cosette? What is it?” he demanded, immediately on the alert. As his daughter took a step forward, he placed his hand on the small of her back protectively, wondering if she was about to swoon.
“Cosette,” he repeated, his voice rising in concern. He held her back from the street as a carriage rushed past. “Are you alright, my child? You are not yourself, nearly walking out in front of a coach this way!” Perhaps she had only seen someone else in need across the street, and her heart had been seized in a need to help, but Jean Valjean had a past darker than that of “Monsieur Fachelevent,” and he had every right to be overprotective.
He saw only a group of young men; had they affronted her in some way? | [atrb=width,140]
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lol clueless papa is clueless
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2013 0:31:50 GMT -5
The morning hustle and bustle was in full swing as Marius entered the square. He was accompanied by his trustworthy companions as today they were about the revolutions work. His chest swelled with pride inside his cleanest worn jacket, and his chin was raised soaking in the few beams of sun that graced them on this mid-morning. The rich and poor alike scrambled about the street and their daily business. If only he had used him money wisely when he had been in possession of it… For a moment, Marius felt out of place in his very clothes. He had so much for so long, and they always had so little. His ignorance was not a point of pride, but every action he had taken since his familial separation had been for them, those that deserved each pleasure he had a million times more than he. The rosette upon his breast had never held as much honor for the man as it did today.
He had headed to the square to meet with several of his comrades. Enjolras said he would be there, and Grantaire had eluded to making an appearance. Anything from his good friend Grantaire came with a grain of salt…or a bottle of wine to pull him from whichever barstool he was warming at present. Enjolras seemed to keep Grantaire committed to the cause somehow, and for that, Marius was grateful. The wheels of their case had been turning with greater speed each day. The excitement within him could not help but build as well. Marius was finally putting it all on the line. He had believed in so much for so long. He had learned so much to further his beliefs and his life. Each passing day brought him closer to the realization of his dreams.
Of course, the young man was still in a bit of denial about what this conviction might cost him. On the other hand, a part of him had already resigned to all possible outcomes. He had nothing to hold onto this world for. If he needed to be sacrificed to safe his poor suffering country, Marius would do it. Perhaps then, his family would know the value of all the young man had in him. There was no shame in fighting for what one believed in. The shame came in idly sitting by while innocent people suffered and were ignored. Marius would not, could not go on living in ignorance and bliss while people died at his very doorstep. The thoughts raced in his brain as he grew closer to the spot upon which they were due to meet. His heart began to beat faster with anticipation and excitement. The world was alive and alight with his fervor and passion. Marius always saw the world through his eyes. He was not concerned with an unbiased or clear view. Everything was viewed through Marius-colored glasses and that suited him just fine. The world was his for the changing, and he was ready.
A smile played on his features as he stared blankly into the world around him. His mind was much too full for him to truly take in all of his surroundings. He vaguely noticed the poor milling about searching for anything that might find its way into their hands. He yearned to help them, but his pockets rang as empty as a tankard thrown against the wall. A foot gently traced a stone at his feet as his friends’ absence continued. Marius was not yet concerned about the matter, however. His school boy obsession with prompt attendance was a habit that did not fade easily, and he had arrived a bit ahead of schedule. Enthusiasm and poor sleeping patterns were not a good combination. Regardless, Marius felt no fatigue as he snapped out of his brain-furry daze and took in his surroundings in more detail.
His eyes were drawn to a little child who showed every signs of misfortune…besides a beautiful scarf that played graciously about her neck. The child’s eyes were directed behind her as she skipped away from what Marius could only assume was her benefactor. Without placing any value on such a glance, Marius allowed his own eyes to back track her path and discover-
Each and every ounce of oxygen fled from his body in a single instant. His eyes had locked with the young woman who had done the child such kindness, and everything else melted away. A tunnel, years in the making, had been constructed in just a single second up the meeting of their gaze. A dumb look of surprise, awe, and wonder froze his still boyish features. Statue-like was an understatement for the awestruck man that stood at the streets edge gazing at an exquisite creature just out of his reach. Empty. No, not the bad empty. Everything had fled from him. From his name to the revolution to proper bodily function. It was all gone. There was only eye contact. Cool, blue eye contact. The brilliance of her eyes held his wrapped in her sight.
A simple flutter of her eyelashes moved the air enough to send all of his senses rushing back to him at once. Marius took a slight step causing him to slightly trip over the stone he had found earlier. It was more of an awkward step than a trip, but it must have been quite comical particularly if any of his friends had seen it. The air reentering his lungs resulted in a large audible inhale on Marius’ part, but his eyes never left her. Everything around him moved in slow motion while his mind raced. This beauty. Her excellence. She was- immaculate. There was not a single thing he would change about this moment as he stared (granted rudely for a young man) at her being.
Marius’ mouth opened to speak to her until another came into view. An older man. In the moment, Marius paid no attention to detail. He only saw how she moved to him in a gesture of trust and security seeking. He took two steps forward himself as if to comfort her in his stead until…a carriage. No! His whole world shattered. Everything had been complete the moment before. There was no more longing. There was no more searching. What was lost had been found until it was so rudely ripped from him. Rage filled every pore that had just moments before be filled with awe and joy. How could he have lost that perfect specimen in just a split-
The carriage passed and there she was. A perfect happiness coursed through his veins as she was revealed to him once more. A kind, gentle smile curved his features into their warmest and most loving expression every featured on his face as he continued to stare at her. She was and angel. Surely in an instant he would come to see her wings. If she was only given the chance to turn around and walk away, he would see them sprout from her shoulder blades and wisp her out of his life. His angel. Marius’ savior stood before him in her humble beauty. Nothing could describe the overwhelming sensation that ran throughout his entire being. Never before had he felt so alive. Nothing…not even a perfectly crafted speech by Enjolras could set his blood afire like the exquisite creature he beheld just yards away.
A hand on his shoulder ripped the perfect moment to tattered sheds like a flag upon the completion of a bloody battle. Marius whipped around in frustration. ”What? His words came out as an enraged hiss that whoever this was would never have heard from the man before. Marius dared not wait for his reply as he may miss her ascension. Marius quickly turned back and searched for his angel. Where had she gone? The crowd had moved in the brief moment he spent away from her. He had memorized the spot, but now…she was…where was she! Marius desperately searched about with his eyes. Had she vanished? Had she flown without leaving time for his to glimpse her worldly departure? He needed her. He would find her. For if she truly had been in angel, perhaps her wings were broken. Who better to go about the mending than Marius himself? She was beauty personified.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 26, 2013 0:05:40 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][/style][style=width: 450px; background-color: ffffff; text-align:center; padding: 8px; line-height: 10px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: 000000;][style=background-image:url(http://i757.photobucket.com/albums/xx217/roar2004/tumblr_mgzu3m2jFr1qzoj6xo2_250.gif); width: 250px; height: 136px; float: left; margin-top:10px;] [/style][style=width: 250px; height: 26px; float: left; margin-top:10px]WHEN'S IT GONNA END, HOW WE GONNA LIVE, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA HAPPEN NOW, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA GIVE Courfeyrac was quite familiar with the city that he had made his home over the course of the past few years. He knew it well, and he knew its people well. He was observant, and he listened more than he spoke. At the moment, he could hear dozens of people in the square, and his hair bounced as he glanced around eagerly, taking in the mass of humanity. These were to be soldiers in the revolution to come, the one that would restore to France her republic! They needed no guns, perhaps, if all went well. Words, existence... for now, that was power enough. Pure numbers. That was what they sought today.
Even though Marius was still taking up residence with him, he had elected not to escort his fellow revolutionary to the square. For one thing, Marius was a bit slow, not that Courfeyrac would tell him as much. His enthusiasm for the republic had grown with each day, to the delight of Courfeyrac and his fellow Amis. Courfeyrac thought with a shudder of the day he'd learned that Marius was a Bonapartist. That very moment, he had summarily dragged his new friend to the Cafe Musain to have him properly educated about politics. Though Courfeyrac had never forced anything on Marius, he had only offered him a different perspective, things could not have gone better.
At least, he thought that things were going well. He was optimistic in his thoughts that with enough people, the revolution might be relatively bloodless, but at the same time, he was willing to sacrifice everything for the republic, if it weren't. Time would tell whether Marius, and any other young people they attracted to their cause, would feel the same way.
He knew the faces of these people in the crowd, knew their livelihoods and their personalities. And then he caught Marius'. But Marius' eyes were not on him. No, they were focused on something else. A little girl? Certainly, Marius had better taste-- Oho. An older girl. A blonde one. Courfeyrac watched his friend curiously, expression blank, but thoughts whirling. Yes, Marius was watching her. He was... he was falling in love, wasn't he? It was written all over his face. Jaw slightly slack, oh, this was textbook! Not that Marius would know, as he was still trying to hash out the German and English he'd need to write an encyclopedia, but that was beside the point.
Unthinking, he shouldered his way through the crowd to Marius. He had to get there first. Not that anyone else would have noticed him; Enjolras and Combferre were otherwise engaged, and Grantaire was drunk or staring at Enjolras, or both. "Marius!" he greeted, grinning. Of course the dear boy did not hear him. He approached cheerfully, taking a few steps back and growing grave as Marius hissed. "Didn't mean t' bother you, m'friend. I just came to make certain you're going to go after her." Should Marius offer him a blank stare - or worse, another scowl - he shrugged and added hastily, "C'mon then, Marius! She's gettin' away, and I'm tired of you bein' the only woman in my room!" Of course Enjolras would disapprove of Marius going after a fine mademoiselle when a demonstration was occurring, but perhaps Enjolras had not yet noticed his arrival - and though the great Cause was important to Courfeyrac as well, Pontmercy was simply not to be borne in this current state of mind.
(OOC: Hope it's okay that I threw Courf in here! <3)
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Post by followedmyheart on Jan 26, 2013 21:16:05 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, height: 30px; background-color: #FFFF99; width: 425px; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #F2F2F2; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center, bTable]yeah, you got me begging, begging baby please don't go
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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #F2F2F2; width: 427px; margin-top: -20px, bTable] IF I WAKE UP TOMORROW, WILL YOU STILL BE THERE?
Cosette barely noticed the carriage that passed in front of her, it only served as a distraction. A breathe of relief passed through her lips as the young man was still standing there on the other side of the street once it had passed. The severity of what had almost happened however brought reality back with the tone of her father's voice. She was lucky her father had been there to pull her out of the way.
“Je suis désolé Papa,” Cosette apologized instantly, finally tearing her gaze away from the young man to meet her father's alarmed expression. She didn't want to worry him. How selfish she had been, to make him fret when she was daydreaming away with schoolgirl delusions. “I was...lost for a moment. I am found now.”
The young blonde looked back at the stranger across the street, who attention was distracted. Another young man – possibly a friend? - with dark curly hair was talking to her heart's desire, distracting his eyes from meeting with hers. Cosette frowned, displeased that their wordless communication could not continue.
The Fauchevelants had been paused too long in the same spot it seemed, and time was moving on without them. The crowd around them was bustling now as the morning rush of sellers and buyers descended upon the square, with more hungry beggars.
Cosette surveyed her father. His kind eyes, trusting expression. He was her heart completely. Her soul, however had escaped her the moment she locked eyes with the man whose name she did not know. It hovered somewhere near him, waiting to meet his. Reminded of her duty she glanced in her basket, having forgotten that she had given out her last alm moments before.
“I am out of alms,” she displayed her basket for her father to see, “Do you have any to spare that I could pass out?”
Her eyes continually darted back to where she thought she had seen him last. Was he truly gone?
WORDS: ###, TAGS: lalala, NOTES: keep them short |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2013 16:09:27 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST ` MUST BE JAVERT HE'S FOUND MY COVER THIS IS A WARNING TO US ALL WE MUST AWAY TIME TO LIVE ANOTHER DAWN AND LIVE ANOTHER - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - day | | [atrb=width,240] Valjean relaxed only slightly when Cosette remembered herself. She gave no indication of what had distracted her. What thoughts might she be lost in? Of course he wanted her to be an intelligent, thoughtful young lady, and he had taught her much; it was just that he was accustomed to knowing what her thoughts were. Though there were things that he hid from her, out of necessity, he wasn't aware that she had any secrets from him. And for that reason, he did not press the matter. He only pressed her hand and gave her a tender smile before taking her arm. “Of course,” he said finally, forcing a smile.
He only held her arm a bit more closely as they began to move through the crowd. He had encountered Javert once, not here, but close, and he did not wish to linger any longer than was necessary to do their duty. “Yes,” he answered, though hesitantly. He had been momentarily distracted by trying to keep Cosette out of harm's way. That was his sole purpose throughout most of his life, actually. He would prefer to have them return home, as he had been more jarred by the incident than he ought to have been. He was almost out of alms as well. “A safer area of the rue perhaps.” Generally, “safer” meant more people, more eyes watching to keep people from stealing. However, if people were desperate enough to steal from the man who would freely give them alms, they clearly needed it. “Safer” also meant more people because that meant fewer people would be able to pick them out in the crowd... people like Javert.
However, Cosette had been nearly struck once too many. He drew her into a quiet place behind some columns where some older beggars huddled. He knew Cosette would miss the smaller children, many of whom had taken a liking to the pretty girl with the fine gowns. “Come Cosette, it is alright – we will see them again soon,” he thought to console her gently, though in truth, he did not know whether these poor children would survive another week. There were always carriage accidents, or robberies, or outbreaks of fever. It saddened him, but what could he do besides offer them his prayers, his money, his smiles? He could not take in every child. No, one was responsibility enough, under the circumstances. With God's help, he had protected her thus far, but that was only because he was very scrupulous, and so he must continue to be. He gave her his alms to give to the wan old women, his eyes intent as they surveyed the area. | [atrb=width,140]
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Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2013 19:55:40 GMT -5
"Didn't mean t' bother you, m'friend. I just came to make certain you're going to go after her."
His best friend’s words swiftly flew past inattentive ears. Marius was consumed by this new flame that had come into his life like a shooting star…and seemingly left it all the same. The thought of this magical presence being so quickly ripped from his life began to open a trench deeper than the earth’s very core within his soul. His body, heart, mind, and soul had never reached out with such a united force. What was this strand desire? What was this immense emotion that had suddenly overcome this young man? Marius may have let Courfeyrac’s first retort pass him by, but the second, the student heard loud and clear.
"C'mon then, Marius! She's gettin' away, and I'm tired of you bein' the only woman in my room!"
Marius had never had such a visceral experience regarding another human being. Every single cell in his body vibrated with excitement and terror. Each moment felt like a double edged sword tearing at his very core. The world had cracked open right from his soul. ”Courfeyrac…I… The usually well-spoken man bumbled over his words like a tizzied school boy or worse….Grantaire. Marius’ eyes continued to search for the girl, but in all their eagerness, they had lost their ability to comprehend. The world moved to fast for the newly smitten young man. It was all a blur of movement and fuzz that was entirely incomprehensible. His mind was in quite a state.
”I can’t….I cannot….Where….where did she go?” Marius desperately ripped his eyes away from the street and back to his friend. Utter terror covered his features. His fair complexion had reached a shade of ghostly white like none his friend was like to ever have seen. Tears threatened to burn at the backs of his eyes, but Marius would not give the heavens that satisfaction. His senses were utterly overwhelmed, but he was not completely lost. Marius would maintain….at least some of his dignity. He was lucky it was Courfeyrac and not Enjolras or Grantaire that arrived first.
As Marius waited for his friend’s response, he allowed himself to turn back to the street. She was not alone. He found her. But she was not alone. Jealousy? Was that the horrible pang he just felt against his rib cage or was it a passerby nudging the distracted young man in the side? Either way the feeling was unpleasant, painful, and just…..no thank you. Then, she glanced his way once more. ”An angel.” The word was whispered upon a sigh, but it was likely that his friend was close enough to comprehend. Marius’ being reached out to her as much as he could, but his feet seemed glued to the spot. He leaned forward in his yearning. The angle became almost too dangerous to sustain without falling forward…but he didn’t fall nor did he take a step. He just stared. A goofy grin lit up his features as he met her glance and held it. His right hand raised in a slight gesture as if to imply waving. He was a statue. Immobilized.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2013 22:39:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][/style][style=width: 450px; background-color: ffffff; text-align:center; padding: 8px; line-height: 10px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: 000000;][style=background-image:url(http://i757.photobucket.com/albums/xx217/roar2004/tumblr_mgzu3m2jFr1qzoj6xo2_250.gif); width: 250px; height: 136px; float: left; margin-top:10px;] [/style][style=width: 250px; height: 26px; float: left; margin-top:10px]WHEN'S IT GONNA END, HOW WE GONNA LIVE, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA HAPPEN NOW, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA GIVE Where had she gone? Courfeyrac kept his eyes on her. He knew the place well, knew where they might have gone, the streets they could have taken. For one thing, she was a lot cleaner than every other person around, and a lot paler; everyone else was browned by dirt and sun. She was beautiful, it was true; Marius had chosen well. It was no wonder that Marius had singled her out... Courfeyrac might have taken her for himself! No, not truly; he was too occupied with the revolution now. But it would be good material with which to tease Marius. For now, however, it was not the right time. Marius was too out of his head; he probably would not have even heard, for one thing. “Follow me.” He started to move, then glanced back. Marius was stock still, other than wavering, and he was so peaked that even his freckles looked pale. This made Courfeyrac rather nervous, so he moved back towards his friend again to steady him if necessary.
Chuckling, Courfeyrac grabbed Marius' arm and yanked it down, griping it tightly to pull him along through the crowd. "Come along, Votre Sainteté," he muttered with a good-natured shake of his head. Your Holiness. Marius might as well be a priest for his virginal bashfulness. The dear fellow was so unaccustomed to interaction with the gentler sex that he hardly even knew how to manage a proper greeting! For pity's sake. Courf would have to give him some advice when this was all over, but that would not happen until Marius actually got to see the girl. Undoubtedly, he would not be able to focus on any other woman after this, unless his attentions were as fleeting as those of some of the other members of Les Amis - but Courfeyrac knew Marius well enough to know that that was not the case. If he had the fortitude (or sheer naivete) to ignore women altogether, he could avoid every other woman besides this one. “This way.”
They weaved throw the crowd. Courfeyrac kept his eyes on the swath of golden hair, the colored fabric, the giant bonnet that seemed to be moving through the crowd before him on its own accord. It was like a tall monolith... almost like a priestly headwear. How perfect for Marius. “Yeah, well, voutre ange is going to fly away unless you keep your feet!” The boy had nearly fallen off the curb, for one thing, and it was going to be hard to keep him from stumbling, to be honest.
(OOC: never fear, I am not powerplaying; I had Erin's permission to move Marius.) |
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Post by followedmyheart on Feb 7, 2013 0:40:37 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] Erin I am in love with you. Seriously.I'm no longer alone in my life now that love is so near. Find me now. Find me here. FIND ME [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #989898;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]
Cosette was sad to see the children go. Papa's reassurance, however unknowing, made her feel a little better. After all, she had seen her little friend again hadn't she? The thought shed a little light on the darkness of the death that plagued the streets of France. She hoped that she would see those children again and would pray for them every moment until she did.
Cosette nodded in accordance to her father's wishes. The streets were notorious for thieves and even worse. While she liked to maintain a optimistic view of those around her, she knew that being poor led some to a life of crime and brutality. She didn't want to put her father in harm's way she he jump to protect her from a mugger or worse.
She clasped his hand just as tightly as she had when she was younger, her heart still bound to his as it was then. He was her protector and her home; she was safe as long as she was with him.
Cosette followed his lead to columns that were very familiar to her. The elderly waited here, some venturing out to find her when she appeared on the street, others choosing to stay away from the cold. If they had enough alms, sometimes they made sure to loop around to this little spot to give what they could.
She thanked her father for his alms, smiling brightly at him before crouching next to an elderly woman whom looked familiar. She had lasted long, perhaps she had once been rich. While Cosette did not approve of God's choice to have an older woman such as this on the street, she had faith that it was all for a higher reason. The woman was all too happy to accept the offering, even asking Cosette to pray with her. She happily obliged.
The elderly woman's hand were bony and frail. They were ice as Cosette clasped them in her own, having removed her gloves so that the warmth of her hands could transmit to the woman's. It was a luxury she could do without and freely give.
"Your hands are so soft child," the elderly woman's voice was cracked with the cold air and age.
Cosette smiled broadly in response. "The nuns at the convent make a wonderful lotion. I am sure they would be delighted to spare some should you choose to stop by. We would love to have you."
They said a small prayer, Cosette insisting that the woman take her gloves. She had another pair at home that she was just as happy with. She glanced at her father from the corner of her eye. He never chastised her for giving away her belongings, but he want her to take care of herself as well.
Upon standing, Cosette found herself in the direct path of the sun's light. It peaked out from the clouds and hit her squarely in the face, blinding her momentarily. Cosette held her hand up to block the light, blinking rapidly. When her eyes focused again, the stranger from before was standing not so far from where she stood.
Had heaven restored him again in this burst of sunlight? Oh happy light, she would never take it for granted again. Cosette felt her heart swell with such sudden happiness she thought it would burst. Her hand, having frozen above her eyes, now reached out in front of her as his did. They were foolish hearts, trying to bridge time and distance with reaching hands. Oh, if only if God had given her wings so that she could fly to him!
The war in her heart returned, the want to know this young man battling for space from her father. She ignored the rush of emotions that flooded her head and made her dizzy with love, only too happy to memorize every feature of this fine face not so far from hers.
She happily returned his grin, finding it instantly contagious. How much they could convey in one beautiful smile! She felt she were properly meeting him, even though she did not know his name. Did he know hers? Would he like it? Perhaps he would like Euphrasie better than Cosette.
Her eyes flickered to the young man who must be his friend. He again claimed the attention she deeply craved. Others may call the dark haired youth handsome or intelligent looking, but when her Stranger stood beside him, nothing else compared.
The friend was was now pulling her hearts desire to follow him. A pit of terror opened in stomach, flooding her veins with ice. Was he taking him away? He had seen her; did he not approve? No, they appeared to be moving in her direction.
Cosette moved to her father's side, touching his arm lightly. She should warn him that if these young men approached them, they were not dangerous. At least, she didn't think they were. She knew in her heart of hearts this young man would not come to harm her! He couldn't contain a single thought of hate or selfish desire. He was pure and good; he must be.
Were her hands shaking from the cold or excitement? What should she say to Papa? She dare not speak of her heart; it would no doubt break his to know that she would allow another to enter it. He would not be selfish, but the sadness would remain that she belonged to another.
Cosette opened her mouth, letting it close again before finding only the words to say, "there's...a stranger coming this way.".
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Post by Deleted on Feb 8, 2013 14:32:11 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST ` MUST BE JAVERT HE'S FOUND MY COVER THIS IS A WARNING TO US ALL WE MUST AWAY TIME TO LIVE ANOTHER DAWN AND LIVE ANOTHER - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - day | | [atrb=width,240] Valjean watched his daughter with a mixture of concern and fondness as she bent down to speak to the old woman. There were sick people everywhere, and he did not want Cosette to catch any illness. He had always thought she had a delicate constitution. However, the Lord would sustain them. He swallowed, feeling a hint of guilt when the woman pointed out how soft Cossete's hands were. Cosette had had to do hard work once, but now she had been softened by a comfortable life. Still, she cared for the suffering of others in spite not having to face it herself.
“Yes,” he agreed quickly. “The convent will house you and warm you.” He gave a nod of affirmation, then he took Cosette's hand in his own to warm them briefly before offering her his own gloves. His hands were not as soft as hers; no, they were cracked and wrinkled and ugly. He stuffed them in his pockets after looping his arm through hers.
Linked to her as he was, he had to stop when she did. He glanced at her face in worry, following her gaze. He only knew that she was smiling. Smiling? Who did she know? Was it one of the children, or one of the elderly, to whom she had given alms whose attention she had caught once more? The sunlight blinded his old eyes so that he could hardly see. Must only be a child. He must try not to worry so much.
Determining this, he intended to keep moving, when Cosette's words stopped him cold.
A stranger. Fear stabbed like ice through Valjean's heart. Must be Javert. He had found him at last after their first encounter at the gate. He had remembered himself, remembered his lifelong search for the escaped convict 24601, and now he was coming for him – for him and Cosette. Now Cosette would be disgraced. The anxieties of the past ten years rushed upon him at once; this was the moment. Did he dare turn around to see the identity of their pursuer? By “coming this way,” did Cosette mean that they were being followed, or someone was simply passing by? ...she would not sound so nervous if someone was merely walking across their path.
“Come, Cosette,” he said firmly, keeping his voice very low. Javert remembered that the girl's name was Cosette, didn't he? How he would know, Valjean did not remember. But Javert seemed to know everything. He had to hurry her back to their carriage. He began to move, drawing her in front of him and attempting to steer her through the street. | [atrb=width,140]
words ,
enough
tagged ,
...everyone
notes ,
i wasn't sure what you wanted to happen, if the kids are meeting now or what. i don't want to powerplay so this is gonna be short, sorry!
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Post by followedmyheart on Feb 15, 2013 20:36:17 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] MUST BE JAVERT. I laughed so hard at that. Watching Supernatural while writing this. I should put salt around the house this is so scary. DDREAMER [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #989898;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]
Cosette smiled brightly and accepted her father's gloves. "Thank you Papa."
She knew that it was futile trying to argue with him. He had always wanted to best for her and sacrificed much in order to give it to her. If she denied the gloves, he would only lovingly convince her to take them.
Cosette felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Leave?! With the young man so close? It felt as if her heart had dropped like a stone, smashing on the street at her feet into a million pieces.
Her eyebrows crinkled down in confusion as was steered ahead of her father. He was suddenly tense, was it her fault? Did he think that the stranger was dangerous? How wrong he was! Every glance between them had assured Cosette that that man was the kindest soul God had created apart from Papa. He would never hurt her.
Cosette had never once in her life disobeyed her father. She went in the direction that he prompted, but glanced back at him uneasily. What could she say now that he was on a mission to protect her? All seemed futile, since the handsome boy had disappeared with his friend.
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