|
Post by HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT on Mar 2, 2013 10:53:04 GMT -5
From somewhere further down the street, Henri heard the shout of Viva la France. Were these the people he had come to look for? The prospect excited him, made it feel entirely worthwhile to have come to the city and even to this parade. He turned his head in the direction the shout had come from, a grin spreading over his face.
“Viva la France!” Maybe it was dangerous, maybe it wasn't—but he decided at that moment that it didn't matter. He hoped the shouts might echo further and longer, so that he could find his way to these people if they were indeed who he wanted.
The tone of the shouting changed, however. The yelling had become more aggressive, and the content—what he could make out as the sound traveled through the gathered crowd—had shifted. The origin wasn't the same, either.
He supposed should have expected the parade to somehow lead to violence. This didn't sound like revolutionary violence, even. Handing his torch to a boy who had been standing slightly behind him, he shifted his way through the crowd, searching for the origin of the original shout.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 2, 2013 12:47:50 GMT -5
Beaming at Enjolras' words Courf returned proudly, “'ave no fear of that. My love for France is one flame that will not be extinguished.” He squeezed Enjolras' bicep in a gesture of brotherhood and solidarity before he heard a woman's voice call his name. Hardly unusual, but whatever Enjolras might think of Cosette and Courfeyrac's relationship, Courfeyrac took no time to correct it.
“Cosette,” he greeted in return, honestly surprised that she was still here. He had thought the reason that Marius was not here was because he was with her. Knowing that Cosette was here and Marius was not with her complicated things. The poor boy must be off searching, stupidly, alone. As Cosette took his hand, someone bumped into him roughly, and Courfeyrac stumbled and scowled before moving closer to Cosette to prevent their being separated by the throng of people. “Ah thought 'e would be,” he replied, brows furrowing. This was not the time or place for a romantic rendezvous! He patted his pocket, searching for one of Marius' ridiculous cards. Doubtless it had been lost among the bunches of pamphlets, but he eventually fished it out, complete with Marius' name and the address where he lived with Courfeyrac. “'ere,” he offered, pressing it into Cosette's hand. He looked over to Max then, giving him a nod gesturing for him to come over. “Take the mademoiselle and her father someplace safe!” She could refuse of course, and he knew that Max would not want to leave either, but it would be better for them both to be out of harm's way.
Courfeyrac was not wrong to think that there might be danger here. The man who had pushed him was now agitating the gypsies. No. This was supposed to be a peaceful gathering! How were they supposed to prove to anyone that they could work together in a republique when they could not even stop fighting now? They ought to be fighting injustice, not each other! His heart only sank further as he saw Mylene dart into the fray.
“Mylene!” he shouted, unthinkingly leaving his friends to grab her arm and pull her back. “Tha's enough!” he roared. “This is a peaceful demonstration! If ye want a fight, don't do it 'ere!”
|
|
|
Post by followedmyheart on Mar 2, 2013 18:13:28 GMT -5
"Bon soir Monsieur," Cosette curtsied automatically at the polite manners of the young man whom was clearly a good friend of Courfeyrac's. Did he know Marius as well? He appeared to have only reached adulthood, although the lines around his eyes and the weight he carried on his shoulders told Cosette he was past eighteen and into his early twenties. The promise of youth was gone, while the adventure of manhood still called. She thought of the whispered talk she had heard among the homeless of the rebels in the streets. Their leaders name appeared to be Enjolras. Was this the young man? She had to admit that he was charming, with an air she was unaccustomed to meeting on the streets, let alone event parades. With such an angelic face it was hard to believe that girl's were not fawning over his every word and batted eyelash. While naive in the ways of love, Cosette could already tell that his heart was won over. There is a fullness in one's eyes when they are dedicated, a level of completion that can be seen in a single glance. Whomever the girl was that he courted, she was certainly lucky. Cosette was already so in love however, that she did not envy the one that he was devoted to. Cosette shared in Courfeyrac's worry over their missing link. If Marius was not with her as Courfeyrac thought he would be, and not with his friends as Cosette had imagined, then where? She willed devastating thoughts away from her mind. Meanwhile, the crowd was growing rowdy and not in the way that Cosette had expected. This was not the happiness of parade go-ers, but something more angry and provoked. She took several steps back as people around her jostled and pushed one another aside, suddenly cautious. Her bravery kept her feet in place however, until Courfeyrac could rejoin her again. Cosette stared at the card momentarily, as thought it were a gift from God above. Taking it quickly, she slid it between her glove and palm for safekeeping, holding her candle in that hand so that the pressure would keep it from falling out. Cosette could not inquire anymore from Courfeyrac, for she was quickly startled by a man taking her arm. Was she too to join the scuffle? "Papa!" Cosette jumped as she looked at her father, out of surprise. She instantly felt guilty for having abandoned him so many times that day, when he had done her the kindness of granting a lovely May Day's freedom at the fair. Really though, was she such a child that she needed constant supervision? For the first time in her life, Cosette felt the emotion of rebellion. It was terrifying, but bright, like lightening. She was unsure of how to react to such an unknown spark and instead allowed herself to be pulled aside by Papa. He seemed fully capable of handling his emotions and they washed over Cosette as she met his gaze. Was he angry with her? He was certainly irritated, if not worried. Did he think the students intended to harm her just because a little tizzy had broken out? She looked away from Papa to sweep the faces of the young men beside them, checking just how many she knew so that she could answer her father properly. Cosette noticed for the first time a boy now standing among the group. He must have joined the gang recently, for she did not recall seeing him in her earlier search for Marius. The young face was familiar, one she had seen on the streets. Other children called him Max, however they had never properly met. Now didn't seem to be the time. "Just the one, we met this past winter. He was the friend you saw earlier." "Saw" was the light term for how her father had all but murdered Courfeyrac with the sheer power of his eyes. Cosette longed to have a girl friend with whom she could question, were all father's like this when their daughters passed childhood? She thought it best not to mention Marius. Cosette was having troubles herself with how to handle both loves of her heart, she need to add to her father's burdens by mentioning a boy she had not yet spoken to. Cosette held her candle between them so that she could see her father's face properly. He was so loving and kind. He only wanted what was best for her, for her safety. It was no wonder that her running off to talk to strange boys left him anxious. She took his hand with her own free hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Overhearing Courfeyrac's instruction to the little boy she recognized as Max, Cosette's rebellious peaked. She might not deny an instruction from her father, but her new found friend was another matter entirely. "No!" she looked with wide and worried eyes to Max, instructing him that she was not going anywhere. "We mustn't leave!" Still feeling her father's presence beside her, she realized she would need an excuse. "The parade Papa," Cosette appealed to him, "the parade's starting. This scuffle will be dealt with in no time and all will be well. Let's return to the parade; it's about to start surely now that all the torches are lit."
CREDIT . this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 5, 2013 11:49:45 GMT -5
[/b] He assured him, a pat to Courfeyrac's shoulder. After all the man was rather apt at teasing him, and he did so often. Besides, it was the Parade night, and yes, there was work to be done. At the same time, it was also a happy occasion and until he had reason to be more somber he would struggle to try and celebrate in his own way. Perhaps his friends had a well enough point, perhaps he let himself be too serious. Maybe he needed to find a better balance, but it was not something he had over much time to think about or dwell on. Not with the political climate as it was, not with the revolution to be had, so close on the horizon that Enjolras knew it was only a matter of waiting for the right time. Freedom would belong to France again, and it's people would live in a republic. Once that was done, well, he would focus on his own needs after the need of the many was well met, anything else would be selfish. And Enjolras was too devoted to righteousness to live only for himself. His existence was not his own, not truly, it belonged to justice. He would be as the flaming sword, harsh and terrible but only cutting down evil and tyranny. He gives a slight bow to return the young woman's curtsy, he may not ever know how to handle women, well, he handled barmaids well enough but ladies were a bit different and often made him feel uncomfortable. If only because he's had such limited exposure, he knows only some polite manners. Most of his contemporaries have always been men or other boys, his tutors and his playmates and his fellows at University. It is really no wonder woman leave him without many words, he's only really ever been close his mother. Even there their relationship was not perfect, mostly due to how he worried at him far too much. In his youth she had coddled him and now as an adult he cannot help but think a woman would lie to you very easily if she thought it was for your own good. However, he struggles against that idea, because Enjolras hates the idea of judging a person he does not know. This Cosette, he does know know her and he will not be rushed into a judgement of anybody he does not know. He does know her name though, he would swear he does. He thinks perhaps he's heard it flung around the Cafe enough nights. After the business has concluded and they all stay around a while, conversing and drinking, occasionally playing a game of cards or dominoes among friends. For the life of him he can't really remember what they had said about her, just that he's heard the name before. "It is good to meet you, Cosette. I'm Enjolras." He introduces himself simply and without fanfare, briefly taking her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles perfunctory and polite. He releases her hand, frowning at the mention of Marius not being in attendance. "Marius isn't here?" Enjolras asks in a bit of surprise, he had expected the man to be among their number. He did not always have the same opinions as the rest of them, but Marius had a good heart, even if he was a bit naive, and perhaps more idealistic than he himself is in certain ways. He doesn't get a chance to hear the answer though, because they're all jostled as the crowd shifts unexpectedly. Ahead, some of the men are causing some kind of ruckus and people are knocking into each other, close as they are on the street. The voices shouting now sound more angry than jubilant. He looks back, seeing Max has broken through the crowd near them, he gives a nod to him and Cosette. "Both of you mind yourselves, some men will look for any reason to cause chaos. If they feel there is profit in it." He said, frowning at the idea of somebody trying to try this occasion into a brawl in the street. He turned to Courfeyrac, determined fire in his eyes and grasp his by the shoulder. "I am going to try and interject some reason into this. I hope you will have my back." He said seriously before he pressed forward, cutting through the crowd of people as best he could without shoving people out of his way, though he did nudge a few people despite his best efforts. Entering into the area people had tried to back away from he tried to get between the two parties as best he could, holding his arms spread wide apart, his palms out. His voice is loud, made to hold men's ears, made to rise above the din of a crowd and he uses it now as best he can. He recognizes some of the men in top hats, part of a gang that is often causing trouble in the streets of the Latin Quarter the Amis haunt. "Gentleman please! A moment for some words before we resort to talking with our fists!" He cries. He looks pointedly at the men in top hats. "You are angry. Are you not?" He says to them, passion infusing his voice. "Of course you are angry, and you? You are angry too? Are we not all angry here?" He asks of them. He only wishes he had some sort of platform, something to grab their attention more. "I do not blame any of you. Of course you are angry. It is your right as free man to be angry. But I pray, think about what you are angry at. Think why you are angry. You are angry because you go without, are you not?" He's on a bit of a roll now. "You are not angry at one another though. You are all brothers and sisters, all children of France. We're all her children, and we are angry because as children we have been betrayed by our parent. Let us not, fight amongst ourselves. That is what the monarchy would have us do. Fight and brawl in the streets for the crumbs the deem fit to give to us. Come, stop and consider, are we not all thinking men? What good is brawling in the street likes beasts about to serve us?" He asks of them all, his chest heaving a bit with heavy breathes. [/ul]
|
|
CHRISTOPHE FEUILLY
Friends of the ABC
For our freedom and yours!
Posts: 106
Joined: Feb 25, 2013 17:40:16 GMT -5
|
Post by CHRISTOPHE FEUILLY on Mar 5, 2013 12:44:32 GMT -5
Feuilly regretted being so late to the parade.
The shop had been open, despite the celebrations in the street, and he had been expected to keep working and produce the same number of fans as any other day. He'd been distracted, though, thinking about the efforts of his friends out in the streets and counting the hours until his release. He hoped no one had noticed the lack of effort in his work, though any close look at him would indicate some lack of care. Paint—mostly yellow today--spattered his clothing, staining his hands and smudging his nose. He hadn't noticed the paint on his hands and had reached to scratch it.
He had left the shop to go to the parade directly. It was evening already; he didn't have time to go anywhere else first, and from the sounds he heard as he neared the appointed street, he realized the night's festivity had already begun. The crowd was thick, and Feuilly began to shoulder his way through to get to the place his friends had decided to meet. Tired, part of him hoped that nothing too exciting would happen tonight. As exciting as the prospect of revolution was, he would prefer to be awake for all of it.
As he neared the place he heard Enjolras' voice. He paused there for a moment, grinning at the words. This was the kind of thing they would fight for, this was what would bring all of Paris that had ears to hear onto their side. How anyone, having once tasted freedom, could give it up again so easily was beyond his understanding. Fear was the only explanation he could offer... and he didn't want to believe that his France was so fearful that it would let itself be oppressed by a boy king...
It was this kind of talk that had drawn him into Enjolras' circle, this kind of talk that could inspire the entire world to rise up for its freedom and break the chains of oppression...
When he came close enough to see through the gathered people, he felt much less inspired by the sight of what Enjolras was talking to. He recognized their clothing, and groaned inwardly. Of course they would come ruin it... and he doubted that even Enjolras could inspire them to higher feelings. Courfeyrac was there too, and Max as well.
He moved toward them, silent and listening to Enjolras' speech... and then he noticed who, precisely, Courfeyrac was trying to extricate from the fight. Mylene... whom he thought might be more experienced a fighter than Courfeyrac. He didn't like the odds anyway. She was outnumbered, overmatched in strength... and Thenardier's gang was not, in his view, something to trifle with so much.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2013 20:09:22 GMT -5
Marius forced the passion he felt for his amour as far from his chest as a he could. The pressure that his closed fist exerted upon the torch he bore would soon leave impressions in the wood if his grip did not let up. The young man was filled with sensations far beyond his comprehension. The sun had disappeared from the sky, and the time was at hand. If only Marius know what the time was…or what was at hand…or… Regret. If only he had listened to a word Enjolras had said last they spoke. Marius had let his mind wander and fixate upon his love. There was no time for revolution with his flighty heart in control.
That was not the case no, however. Marius’ heart burned for his cause once more. He had his friends to answer to, his country to protect. They had work to do this evening as France took to the streets with torches and song. Something was coming, and he would be a part of it. If he had his way, he’d march right into that ball he had received an invitation to. He was invited after all! Don’t those invited get to bring a guest? Why Marius sought to bring all of France right into the laps of the feasting class. A slight smirk turned the side of his mouth upward at the thought of a parade of torch holding citizens marched their way into the ball room. Perhaps it was a possibility?
Marius’ eyes eagerly searched for the familiar faces of his dear beloved friends. He needed them by his side. He needed to be by their side. Courfeyrac would keep him focused. He had to. That is what friends do. Unfortunately, that thought led him right back to his lady love. Was she present? His eyes frantically began searching for those blonde locks. Abruptly, he closed his eyes. A jostle from the side followed by a cheer shook him from his introversion. A fellow citizen asked Marius to join him in a cheer. What else could he do but oblige? As Marius raised his voice and torch to the heavens with this stranger, his eyes caught a glance of his friend!
Giving a kind, patriotic good bye, Marius made his way to where he belonged. He would prove his worth, his dedication this evening. Well, he thought he would. His eyes caught sight of the curly mop of hair that belonged to their bold figure head! ”Enjolras!” Marius’ voice rang out as part of the general mumble of the gathering as he shouldered through more bodies. He had to reach him soon. Things seemed to be getting more exciting by the second. Soon more friends came into view. He shouted each name in turn in hopes of catching one’s attention.
The last thought in his mind would be to run into his fleeting flower in such a firey place. For sure, a flower would not do well here. A flower is much more akin to vases and water and sitting pretty on a side table. Revels and torches would only wilt such delicacies. Perhaps that is why those unfamiliar, familiar blonde locks stopped him dead in his tracks after he finally came to stand close to the group. Marius’ jaw dropped as if he might continue in speech but nothing happened. A statue once more. Pretty speech would be wasted on his deafened ears. This was not at all what the young man had in mind for this evening. He could only hope for his trance to be broken and his true nature to be ignite and inflamed once more. She would surely disappear in a moment anyhow.
|
|
|
Post by EPONINE THENARDIER on Mar 7, 2013 10:53:23 GMT -5
Eponine did her best to fade into the shadows cast by the torches as they lit their way down the street, her dark eyes watching the people around her, seeking out her next target. Today had been a modestly profitable day, such big events usually are. The coins she had nicked from the fair-goers weighed heavy in her hand as she counted them out. A handful of copper. Eponine's face creased in a frown. She was sure she had gotten more than that. Better than nothing, which is what she would have if she didn't put them out of sight. Looking about cautiously, Eponine listened to the coins clink together as they dropped into her small leather pouch. Pulling the drawstring tightly, she slipped the whole lot between her threadbare corset and her chest. If she was lucky, she might be able to add to her pile in this crowd.
Upon hearing the commotion, Eponine strained to see over the forest of people around her. Drawing up her slight frame and standing on her bare toes, she was finally able to make out her father and others of Patron-Minette squaring off against some gypsies. Her frown turned into an angry scowl as she pushed her way through the crowd. Leave it to her father to look for a way to pull a profit from any occassion. No doubt he had others positioned throughout the crowd, ready to pick clean any distracted onlookers. With a quiet grumble, she lowered herself back down to her bare feet, scanning the crowd for the tell-tale signs of police interference. Much as she disliked her father, if he went to jail, they really would starve.
When the voice of the passoinate young man sounded to her left, she recognized it immediately. Enjolras. She'd listened to his speeches time and again at the meetings she followed Marius to. Some times she'd even paid attention, when she wasn't wrapped in conversation with Marius. Enjolras had a way with words, inspiring words, she had rarely ever seen in her life. He commanded attention and his speeches seemed to touch people and make them think. Even now, Eponine grimaced at the tought of France being a betraying parent, something she knew all too well about. It banked the coals of her anger higher, the heat building, but this time for France, not the rotten tree she'd sprung from. Eponine tried to push her way through the crowd towards Les Amis, forgetting about her father's brawl and the possibility of the police coming to break it up. If Les Amis were here, that meant Marius was too, and that thought consumed her. Her thin form slipped between people easily enough, but hunger made her too weak to push people aside, so her progress was slow. A few times she stumbled and nearly fell, only to catch herself on a sleeve or shoulder of a bystander. Many gave her an angry or suspicious look, a couple even pushing her away. She couldn't blame them. She was, after all, her father's daughter.
She arrived at the small cluster of friends just as Marius was pushing through from the opposite side. Her smile lit up to see him, hear his voice. Her heart thudding against the pouch of coins in her corset, she called out to him, the rest of the crowd forgotten. He was greeting his friends, each in turn. It would only be a moment before he saw her, before he smiled at her. Butterflies danced in her stomach and her usually steady hands trembled. In an effort to still them, she raked her crooked bangs from her face and waited what seemed like an eternity.
And he stopped.
Before he looked at her, he stopped and stared. At her. Cosette stood among the boys, pale and blonde. Her attire was some of the most beautiful Eponine had ever seen, from the dress to the gloves. She reminded Eponine of the dolls she played with as a girl. Next to her, Eponine, in her tattered skirt, chemise, and bare feet, felt dirty and crude. Ugly. And Marius just stared at this blonde beauty. Eponine's heart sank in her chest, her smile fading and her mood visibly falling. She dropped her gaze to the street at her feet and crossed her arms across her stomach.
|
|
|
Post by maximiliennoelvier on Mar 7, 2013 16:31:40 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://i47.tinypic.com/33capw3.jpg); width: 252px; height: 138px; float: left; margin-top:10px;] WHEN'S IT GONNA END, HOW WE GONNA LIVE, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA HAPPEN NOW, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA GIVE [/style][style=width: 252px; height: 26px; float: left; margin-top:10px] made by historyofus of caution
Things seemed to be escalating quickly, it had all started quite simply with the old man following his daughter over to where they were, and wanting to make sure she was all right obviously. They were obviously close to each other, from what Max could gather, though the old man seemed rather, what was it? Oh yes over protective and he was obviously someone you did not want to upset so Max made sure he would not do so. Max still said nothing deciding it best to wait until he was noticed not wanting to disrupt even more so with this man there. He did however give a polite smile to the girl Cosette as the man named her when she noticed him, once again not wanting to seem rude.
However things took what seemed to be a rather nasty turn of events when one of the gangs no wait the.... The Patron-Minette, and that must be THÉNARDIER I have heard so much about, just looks like any old thug to me. Which meant in Max's mind he was not that dangerous, though that was most likely because he was not up close, people did seem to have a habit of being more fearsome and intimidating when up close, which was a good reason to try keep a distance from dangerous people. The Gang members though lead by Thenardier were attacking the gypsies for no good reason, from the looks of things. No matter how much he wanted to Max knew that if he was go and get involved he would only get hurt, what good would he be to people then? Even more so to Percy, getting involved was dangerous, he might say a thing or two though knowing Max and his speak before you think attitude when situations such as this arise.
It seemed the situation would only worsen and MYLÈNE seemed to have moved from where she was with the jugglers to deal with the gang herself, Max knew she could look after herself but felt she might get hurt. Courf seemed to think so as well and bot he and Enjorlas stirred into action, though it was Courf first. Courf Obviously wanted this to be peaceful and Max could not blame him, though Max felt it rather obvious that something had been going to happen as had Percy, Max just hoped it did not spiral any further out of control, so if Courf and Enjorlas was able to diffuse the situation that would be great. Though something told Max there would be plenty of things to report to the league about, he was certainly sure of that
And as was said Enjorlas soon followed Courf into the Frey but instead of just trying to keep Mylie back, he seemed to find it the perfect opportunity for speech, It could work, his speeches are passionate and fantastic to listen to, but from the looks of the gangs faces maybe not. He was right, while Enjorlas had jumped in to try turn their anger elsewhere on to the aristocracy or the king maybe? Some of the gang members seemed to have red faces, their eyes transfixed now on Enjorlas which most likely meant nothing good. Actually Max was surprised the members had let him keep going, it was a rousing speech though maybe it had given the members a pause for thought, though who really knew what they were thinking or cooking up.
Courfeyrac had told Max to get both Cosette and her father to safety, and while he frowned in annoyance and had almost protested as he wanted to stay close, he took a glance at Cosette and her father and felt that it might be best to actually at least move them somewhere safe, yet still be near enough and Max could easily not miss something and come back Quicker. He wanted to do both and while Cosette had said things would be fine Max felt that it was not so, Max decided it might be best to appeal to the fathers sense of protection, it would have to be quick as Max wanted to learn as much as possible. He felt that Cosette might end up being harmed here and while he was sure her father could look after himself, something told the boy that the man would want her to be safe and out of harm’s way as well . Before coming to a decision he mumbled something, "Stupid thugs no brains just find someone to hit and keep hitting," for now let’s hope none of the gang members actually heard him.
Max Looked from the Father to Cosette before making his decision, he smiled and nodded to the both of them, he spoke to them both though look more at the man than Cosette. "Monsieur, Madame would it not be best ta at least move to a safer distance, ya don't have ta leave the Parade, Just you know out of harm’s way." His eyes darted to the father hoping he would have the sense to at least agree to move his daughter some way from possible harm and danger, without upsetting her too much, as like he said she could still be at the Parade. As he glanced at the Father he noticed Feuilly arrive though silent and listening to the ending of Enjorlas speech, which amazingly had not been interrupted, maybe the Gang members thought him stupid but Max suspected something was up, which was why it was better for the Cosette and her father to move. Though Max would want to be right back as soon as possible, trying to make sure that he would not miss anything that might be of use, one of the reason’s he had been listening to Enjorlas’s speech. He had not heard or noticed the arrival of Marius or Epoinine, as he was only focused on what was going on With Cosette and her father, including Enjorlas, Courf, Feuilly and Mylie who were in his line of sight.
|
[/td][/tr][/table][/center]
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2013 16:46:46 GMT -5
Valjean's eyes darted between the young men and Cosette as the two spoke, interacting. Marius? Was that not what he had heard Eponine call the young man with whom she had kept company earlier at Thenardier's? His eyes searched Cosette's face, but she was not looking at him, she was scanning the crowd or looking at the other young men. He watched her expression change as she was handed a card, as if she had been given a gift from God. Who was this Marius? How did she know him? When had they even met, any of them? This past winter...? His mind oscillated between the thought that he had been wrong to think he sheltered her when she clearly had so many relations, and he wondered if he had driven it to her by sequestering her, but after this he only wished for her to be back at the nunnery, safe and hidden! There were so many questions, but now was not the time to answer them.
And then the boy was instructed to take them away. Thank God, at least this Courfeyrac, as Cosette had called him, seemed to have some sense, aside from the fact that he was trying to lead a revolution. He stiffened at Cosette's resistance. “We must leave,” he insisted, although his heart broke to make Cosette unhappy. She must be kept safe. It is not safe!” That the torches were lit now hardly made him feel better. Still, he found himself frozen, watching helplessly as the young man Courfeyrac pushed his way closer to the fight, followed by his friends.
He watched breathlessly as the young men interceded, but that was not to say that everything was yet resolved. For a tense moment, he could only watch and hope to God that everything would be well. And then another caught his sight – Eponine, with a tall, red-headed young man. The same one he remembered. Marius. The boy's eyes locked onto Cosette, and it was that which caught Valjean's paranoid paternal gaze. His sight alit on the boy, and as he beheld him, he at once felt within him the beginnings of fierce hate and fierce love that were inspired by the knowledge that Cosette was not his alone.
He could hardly hear the boy who had been directed to take them to safety. A revolutionary? Cosette had fallen in love with a revolutionary? He took her arm more tightly, to steady himself and to convince himself she was still by his side – perhaps to keep her there. “Cosette, please!” He didn't know what he was begging her to do, but the urgency was clear. He wanted her to stay safe, with him; he wanted her to be away from this boy, but he wanted the boy to be safe, too, lest her heart be broken. What was this strange paradox of feeling?
|
|
|
Post by nathanielredenei on Mar 8, 2013 16:15:13 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://i49.tinypic.com/11kea2v.jpg); width: 252px; height: 138px; float: left; margin-top:10px;] WHEN'S IT GONNA END, HOW WE GONNA LIVE, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA HAPPEN NOW, SOMETHIN'S GOTTA GIVE [/style][style=width: 252px; height: 26px; float: left; margin-top:10px] made by historyofus of caution
Well that was quick, Nathaniel told himself almost chuckling out loud, he had expected trouble but not this quickly, not before the crowd had actually marched. Trouble though would mean the National Guard's Arrival, Nate knew what that meant but he was still busy trying to find those revolutionaries, and hopefully make sure anyone who had come from the camp were okay.
Nathaniel actually had a pretty good view of who was causing the commotion, due to a gap that had recently just parted in the crowd, he rolled his eyes at what he saw. It was Monsieur Thenardier, and his gang, why am I not surprised, thugs and thieves seem to find it entertaining. He thought he should maybe try and get involved, but it was not his business, he would keep an eye on it though if it got out of hand he could always help someone out.
There was one thing that happened that caused Nathaniel to pivot on the spot and look back directly at the commotion, and that was a man who seemed to be trying to calm down the gypsies and the gang. The speech though passionate and good one was rather long, but Nathaniel broke out into a hopeful grin, the cockade and the speech gave away to what the man was, one of the revolutionaries he had been looking for. The Guy's going to get himself hurt though jumping in between them like that he quickly made his way through the crowd only to suddenly find himself bumping into someone, when he noticed who it was his face was a mixture of annoyance and Happiness.
|
[/td][/tr][/table][/center]
|
|
MYLÈNE LACOQUINE
Citizen
Abc Cafe Barmaid
Posts: 318
Joined: Feb 12, 2013 8:44:01 GMT -5
|
Post by MYLÈNE LACOQUINE on Mar 12, 2013 15:03:35 GMT -5
Mylène could feel her heart beating heavily against her ribcage and a kind of sizzling energy coursing through her veins, electrifying every fibre in her body. Most of this energy was born out of rage, rage against the Patron Minette who once again stirred up trouble in what should have been a peaceful, yet powerful demonstration. She had known the ABC friends had planned something tonight, and they surely would not want this to happen, it could spoil everything! As fidgety as the national guard was these days, they would probably appear any minute and that would heat up the mood even more! And all because of the Patron-Minette, those scumbags! Why were they picking on those people anyway? They looked like gypsies, travellers then and not doing anything wrong. Bullies, brainless bullies!
One of the men wearing top hat and blue sash, a right bag of bones, was turning around as he heard Mylène’s enraged outcry and he gave her a rough push, his eyes blazing menacingly, which made her wince. For as long as she could remember, Babet had never looked at her this way. “Better stay outta this, Coquine!” he warned her, growling. “This is not yer business!” Mylène could feel a cold fist reaching for her guts, but she pushed it back, raising her chin defiantly. This was not right! “Ye stop maltreatin’ these people and let the friggin’ parade go on, fichu!” She wanted to say more, bring the whole amount of pure Mylène-anger down on his head, but in this very moment, she was being grabbed at her left arm and pulled back rather forcefully. Whirling around with her eyes blazing as menacingly ad Babet’s had, she opened her mouth to shout at whoever had the gall to try and stop her, when she suddenly found herself being face to face with Courfeyrac. Surprised, most of her anger got stuck in her throat and therefore she only pulled her arm out of his grasp comparably gently and hissed: “Courf, non! Ye dun know who yer dealin with! Tha’s Patron-Minette!”
Babet snorted, momentarily too distracted to take part in the beating as he saw what was happening before his eyes. “Who’s tha’ milksop?!” He asked, turning towards Courf and making a step forward. “One of yer stinkin’ student friends? Need THOSE te rescue ye now, Coquine? My, how the mighty ‘ave fallen! Ye think YE can tell me what te do, boy?!” Suddenly they were surrounded by more and more people, and a voice rose from behind as a figure pushed past them, boldly stepping between the fighting men. Enjolras… Mylène’s eyes grew wide and her lips parted as she listened to his speech, torn between disbelief and reluctant awe. “Is he mad?” she whispered to no one in particular as she now saw more of the ABC friends approach, Marius and Feuilly amongst them. “He’s beggin for trouble!”
Enjolras’ speech was followed by momentary silence – at least from those that had stopped with the brawl long enough to actually care and listen. Then another man with top hat and sash, tall and big, stepped forward, slowly raising his fist. “Children of France, me ass!” he growled. “Wha’ kinda laugh are ye?? ‘M beatin who I wan te beat, no one tells Gueulemer wha’ te do!”
|
|
|
Post by HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT on Mar 14, 2013 17:17:45 GMT -5
As the crowd shifted, Henri caught a glimpse of a familiar back. Aha... so Nathaniel was in Paris indeed, and at the parade. Henri paused momentarily, uncertain as to whether he should approach him or not. The massed crowd had the potential to turn into a revolutionary cauldron, especially now that a fight had already broken out—and if that cauldron should not only boil, but boil over...
Well, it would be bad for the Sacred Heart to have both its leaders trapped in the same place. Still, despite the occasional shouts that he had heard—and even participated in—a few minutes before, most of the crowd still seemed focused on the parade.
It wouldn't harm to rendezvous, he decided, and determine if Nathaniel had done any better at finding the origin of the shout or the revolutionaries themselves. If he didn't find him and meet now, there was the very distinct possibility that they would both be lost to the crowd until whatever time it might begin to thin.
Distracted by his thoughts, he'd lost him. So much for that... Still trying to scan the crowd, he felt himself collide with another of the spectators. Startled, he froze for an instant in silence.
It appeared he hadn't lost Nathaniel after all.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2013 17:19:08 GMT -5
Courfeyrac pressed his lips together, uncertain of what the correct response would be to the question. None would be correct in the sense of being pleasing, for it was true that Marius was not here. “Not yet,” he said finally, releasing a soft sigh. His roommate could be strange sometimes, it was true, but he had his reasons, and so Courfeyrac would not tease him about it. Now was certainly not the time. He had hope that Marius would show himself, in time.
Profit. Yes, Courfeyrac knew that the Patron-Minette would do anything for profit, but they would fight for no reason at all! They were more animal than human at times, he thought, and they did nothing to help their cause. He was glad of Enjolras' warning to Cosette and Max, but he doubted that it would do much more good than his own. His eyes were serious and resolute as Enjolras grasped his shoulder, and he gave a curt nod of affirmation, following at the other man's heels. He certainly didn't need to be told twice, as he was going anyway.
He had not, however, actually gotten into the middle of the fray as Enjolras had. His round cheeks paled in concern for his leader's wellbeing, only to flush again with pride at the sound of the inspirational words. He could only pray that they would inspire others as well, but his hopes were not high. For the second, he focused on getting Mylene to safety, in case Enjolras' words did not do the trick.
There were so many people there to support them, or so many people to be injured... Feuilly... Marius (mon Dieu, strange timing did he have!), the girl who followed him... He didn't know if he could trust Max to get Cosette and her father to safety, but he didn't have a choice other than to keep his priorities in order. “Neither do you!” he reminded Mylene as she told him he didn't know what he was doing interfering with the Patron-Minette who she'd just scolded. Enjolras, however, always seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Hope was restored for a fleeting second as everything, shockingly, went quiet. But the second was indeed fleeting. Courfeyrac stiffened as the top-hatted man stepped forward, fist raised. “Enjolras!” he warned. Thank God he'd learned these streets well. His eyes flicked to the side, searching for an escape route, but his heart only sank farther when he saw the National Guardsmen stationed there. They weren't doing anything, not yet. But they were there. Watching.
“Mylene, get out of 'ere,” he urged, stepping in front of her to get closer to Enjolras. He hadn't wanted the night to turn violent, but he'd brought a pistol, in the event that it did. His eyes flicked to Enjolras, letting him know that if they were about to get pummeled by the Patron-Minette, they would get pummeled together. But no battle would be won tonight.
|
|
|
Post by followedmyheart on Mar 14, 2013 23:17:07 GMT -5
Cosette knew as her father gripped her arm that he was right. She wanted to burst into tears, the urgency and sheer love in his voice overpowering her momentary rebellion. He loved her very much and she was behaving like a child. The argument she hadn't been watching was growing more heated, she could hear the angry voices rising from behind her. Even Papa turned to watch the events, no doubt deciding whether or not he should jump between her and the angry young men and woman behind her. Cosette directed her blue gaze to Max instead, whom was still kind enough to insist that they find safer ground. "There may not be a parade mon petite amie, should those guards decide to break up this dispute." She inclined her blonde head to the uniformed men, no so far away. Though it was her first time talking to Max, Cosette had noticed him before among the streets. He was brave and fast, darting in and out of crowds faster than her eyes could follow. Only one other boy (the innkeepers son was it?) was rumored to be so crafty. She didn't want Max tethered to herself and her father, especially when he could scurry away and keep himself safe. It was doubtful that he would, but her kind heart could hope for the best. "We will be fine. Papa is right, we should return-" At that moment a familiar face caught her attention. It was the girl from the May Dance! She was standing on what appeared to be the edge of the small rebels gang, like a chess piece left out of the set on a board. Cosette wanted to warn her that she too should find somewhere safe to be. No young lady - except maybe Mylene who looked prepared to take on the French King himself - should be amidst men's quarrels. It wasn't the girl who stole her word home from her however, it was the young man she was watching. A curious creature, Cosette had traced the other girl's gaze to that of the one person she had been thinking of all day. Marius, and he was look right at her. It's a curious thing when one's eyes meet that of their affection. Lightning struck her, electricity exploding from within her chest to the very tips of her fingers and toes, filling her with light and warmth. It was as though a full orchestra had taken up inside her heart, and the violins were swelling to a sound so tumultuous and beautiful she felt it would shatter her from within. Cosette dropped her candle in surprise, the fall from her hands to the earth extinguishing the tiny flame. The torches were burning so bright she needn't desire it's light and didn't notice it's absence from her hand. The small bouquet she had bought at the flower stand earlier - composed for first love - hadn't failed her after all! It was still tied neatly to her belt with a spare piece of ribbon, casting the scent of lilacs around her wherever she went. If Cosette ever saw that flower stand again she would give everything she owned to that swindling woman. She was pulled, as though a magnet was lodged within her, to him. Her father saying her name was lost to her as the distance between herself and this dream became smaller. She could allow herself this one moment, a single solitary piece of heaven before returning to the life she knew, couldn't she? Cosette paused a few inches away from Marius, still daring him to exist. She reached out apprehensively to rest her fingertips against his hand. He did not disappear or fade away as she had feared. He was solid and real. With a beating heart and thoughts she longed to know. She looked from their hands to his face and said simply and quietly: "I'm Cosette." There. The information between them was level. She had learned his name from their mutual friend and now he knew hers. All that between them was no longer a dream, but one of God's precious gifts. She would remember it always. For now however, reality called. It broke her heart, but she had to leave. Her life was with her father and right now, he was waiting for her. Cosette pulled her hand from Marius', exchanging one last look with her friend from earlier. Hold on a minute, she knew where she lived! Cosette had confessed it earlier during the May Pole dance they shared. Perhaps this wayward stranger could tell Marius, lead him there? As one girl to another, Cosette poured all of this into a single glance, imploring this other young woman to help her in the honest and humbling quest of true love. She allowed herself one last look at Marius, to memorize every feature, before turning and dashing back to her father. Retrieving her candle, it was his hand she now took as a promise to stay by his side. "We should return home..." she suggested sullenly, the safety of their house in Rue Plumet no doubt screaming her father's name. Hers as well, for if a fight really was to break out she did not want her father caught in the crossfire either. She had met Marius at last and her aching heart would have to be content with that. Her father was the person she focused on know. He had been hiding his exhaustion from being towed around by her all day fairly well, but Cosette had spotted it and knew she wouldn't need a pretty speech to convince her father it was for the best they retreat home and to bed.
CREDIT . this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.
|
|
Deleted
Posts: 0
Joined: May 1, 2024 18:02:21 GMT -5
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2013 0:24:34 GMT -5
[/i], that even if he should die, another voice would rise to pick up the words. After all, Liberty must always have a voice. Even if it's voice is really a cacophony, composed of many people and many different tongues. Enjolras has no sense of glory in this, he doesn't do it for power or for recognition. He does it simply because it is what is right. And because, as a good man, he has an obligation to do what is right. Enjolras knows, or at least, he believes that it doesn't have to be this way. Some men cannot be reasoned with, but most can. All the people need is a banner, a cause and group to rally around, to fight with, to fight for. Together, with his brothers and sisters, a man can make a nation or in this case, re-make a nation. If Enjolras is anything when he speaks, he is certain. His voice is firm and as unwavering as the ideas he espouses, he is certain so that other men hear him and take heed, and when he is sure, the people around him, who listen and chose to follow his lead, they are sure too. It is a condition that is best contagious. So his actions follow his words, he shows no fear as he puts himself into the brawl. Besides, he know he has Courfeyrac as backup and when he finishes his speech he happens to catch Feuilly and Marius now among the crowd as well. Perhaps it is easy for him to be sure when he had his brothers to back him up, but everyday he is still a little awed at their loyalty and their goodness. He believes that nobody has ever been as blessed as he, to have such friends. With such friends and support at his back, it is easy to stare down the man who approaches him, with rough manner and rougher voice. Another member of the Patron Minette and he wishes that these men would see sense, see reason. He blames them not for their anger, only wishes he could see that discontent put to far better use. "I am no laugh. I am the voice of a cause more right and noble than what you use your fists for and I would not waste your words on intimidating me." He had little time for doubt or for fear, and never from a man like this who would soon beat him as look at him. "Because I shall not be silenced by bullies and tyranny. Whether that tyrant is a street thug or a boy king, it makes no difference to me-" He doesn't have a chance to finish the sentence because the man lunges for him, fists huge and meaty like that of a bear, and Enjolras is thankful for years around horses and other large animals that have given him good reflexes. He jumps backwards, out of the way of the man's fist and ends up half stumbling into Courfeyrac, who thankfully takes his weight and gives him a moment to find his feet again. Now, without his voice trying to break it up, the brawl is continuing with force. More people being drawn into the mess of it and civilians trying to scatter and avoid the fighting. He curses under his breath as he looks up and sees the National Guard now lining the street in force. Enjolras knows too well how jumpy they tend to be, too eager for a fight, too ready to use their rifles against their own brethren. The night is lost to chaos and fighting, and he knows there will be no luck in spreading their message here. Thankfully his would be brawler has been taken up in fighting with another man and is distracted from him, all the better, Enjolras has no desire to throw fists in a senseless street fight. He would rather save all of his fight for nobler causes by far. He turns to Courfeyrac, and presses at the hand his friend has on his pistol. "Let us try not to expend bullets over this, dear friend." He murmurs to him in a low voice. "I fear the night is lost for causes, anything we say will fall on panicked and deaf ears. And with the National Guard out in force things are only about to become more of a bloodbath I fear, not less. Help me spread the word of retreat to our brothers. We shall all convene in the agree location within the hour." He says and he knows that Courfeyrac knows the back up plan they all discussed and agreed on before the Parade night. He doesn't stay for confirmation, he has always trusted Courfeyrac to be capable and wise and he won't insult him by holding the man's hand through this. This is not the first time the Amis have found themselves in the midst of a riot or a brawl, after all. He pushes through the crowd, calling out for Feuilly and Marius and passing on the message of falling back and reconvening. He doesn't want to lose them to the chaos. Behind them, there is the sharp report of rifles and he turns, to see the National Guard have lined up and fired warning shots into the air. Yes, now is definitely the time to give up the evening for a loss and hope for better next time.[/ul]
|
|