In Our Turn {Cosette}

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 500 ( TAGGED ) DULCIE/COSETTE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Jean Valjean, once a hardened criminal, had fallen in love. No, it was not romantic love; his thawed heart belonged solely to a golden-haired little girl. His entire purpose was to raise her in the light, in the way of the Lord, as he had promised her dying mother. He wanted the very best of everything for her. So far, he had succeeded in these things: he had raised her out of the poverty of the Thenardier inn, at long last, and had used the money that he had earned from years running a factory to ensure that she was always well-fed and well-clothed. However, he believed that they were blessed to be a blessing, and more than food or clothing, he believed that humans needed love. The best way to develop that love was to show Cosette from what she had been rescued, to show her the mercy that God had given her (albeit through Valjean, who had simply paid forward the grace that God had shown him). Certainly not to make her more grateful to him, because he could not tell her for certain everything about her past or especially his, but because he wanted to develop in her Christ-like compassion. He was taking her today to visit the many poor who lived on the streets of the city. For a long time he had been hesitant about this. There were always bouts of cholera that racked the poor, not to mention innumerable other diseases that were the result of lack of food and warm clothing. It was also an extremely unpleasant, rattling experience for a little girl to undergo. However, Cosette was old enough now, and Valjean knew he could not protect her from everything, no matter how much he desired to do so. She was safe from many things, including hunger and cold, as long as her surrogate father was not revealed to be a criminal – but many others were not so fortunate. His daughter had shown herself to be a kind and thoughtful little girl who made his heart swell with pride and fondness for her. Still, he was not certain how she would take this experience. He had explained carefully what they were going to do, and now it was time. “Come, my child,” he called, peering out into the little kitchen where she had been given the task of packing a basket. “It is time for us to deliver some of this food.” Moving closer to her, he knelt down so that he was on her level, ignoring the way his knee creaked in protest, and gave her a tender smile. “It will be cold out today.” He had carried over her cloak, and arranged it over her thin shoulders, tying it under her chin with care. Straightening, he took her little hand in his; he did not have to stoop as much to do so as he once had. “Did you remember to pack everything that your papa asked you too?” <333 don't feel like you have to match this, it's just an intro!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[followedmyheart]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] Cosette had been sure to tuck her doll into her bed when she made it that morning. She liked to carry Eva wherever she went, from breakfast in the morning until stories at bedtime, but today was different. She and her father were taking a journey and Cosette did not want to see her favorite doll harmed. “Sleep tight until I return!” she commanded, kissing the dolls forehead and bounding from her room with the energy that only children seem to possess. Cosette remembered nothing before her father. He was the bright light that showed her the world, casting everything into sunshine. When she thought back on her life before the convent and her teachings, she only remembered shadows of places and people she had known. Having forgotten faces and names, the only memory she still retained was a recurring dream of her dearest Papa finding her in the woods. He was a saint in life and in love and out of love, she did not question him. The nuns scolded Cosette for running as she dashed about the stone hallways on her mission to the kitchen. She slowed to an acceptable pace until she was out of sight around the corner and resumed her frolicking. Nothing was so promising as a day spent with her Papa. She knew much of the world, from the books she had read and the people she passed in the streets as they shopped. There were others more unfortunate than herself, who could not keep warm and did not have enough to eat. Although God did not love them any less, he had simply bestowed upon them a different life than her own. Papa had taught her that it was her duty, as a child of God, to share the light and love that she herself had been given from above. While she did not know where exactly they were going, it was Cosette's understanding that the kind charitable act she had been preached was exactly what they were doing today. Upon reaching the kitchen, the little blonde stood on tiptoe to reach a basket on the shelf above her head. There were many to choose from, but she chose the biggest one. Her blue eyes had locked onto it as soon as she entered the small, warm room and her heart had instructed her that this was the one. Wriggling her small fingers, she managed to grab the edge and pull it down on top of herself. Righting herself and the basket, Cosette set to work packing what Papa had instructed she fetch. She organized the fruit, warm bread and cheese around each other in the basket, proud of herself for having grabbed the largest one. This meant they could carry more! After tucking cloth napkins around everything and on top to keep it all secure she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen and popped her head up from her spot on the floor to see her father enter the kitchen. “Papa!” Cosette sang as he knelt down beside her, throwing her slim arms around him in greeting. He was a sight she never grew tired of seeing. She waited patiently as he tied her cloak around her shoulders, embracing the warmth that it brought to her small frame. Other little girls didn't have warm cloaks and loving fathers. She was blessed. “I packed everything!” Cosette nodded fiercely and skipped back to her basket, her small hands shoving it over to where her father was. “I used cloth napkins; I thought we could give those out as well.” She held on tightly to his hand, swinging their arms a bit as she fell into step with him on their way to their carriage. How tall and strong her father looked in the sunlight. He could be hit with the worst blizzard in France and not stumble. A woman with a sour expression rode by the pair, staring stonily first at her father and then at Cosette. She shied away into her father's side, before remembering that she had promised her doll that she would be brave for the both of them today. “Papa, do others deliver food to the poor?” she tugged on his hand gently to catch his attention, “So they won't grow sick? People are happier when they are healthy.” It was only late autumn and already the elderly in town square grew cross with the oncoming cold. They hugged their raggedy shawls close as they stood at their stands, complaining about the weather and what the King would do for them. Cosette listened curiously and thought: “If only they were warm, then perhaps they would be happy.” Alas, it seemed that more than just warmth was needed to help the poor of France. That was the lesson her Papa was teaching her today.

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) idk ( TAGGED ) DULCIE/COSETTE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE In spite of his desire to have Cosette remain humble andekeep a simple life that drew no attention, Valjean feared that it would be impossible to avoid drawing stares. His daughter was fantastically beautiful, especially now that he kept her clean and well-dressed, and he did not just think that because he was her papa. This was part of the reason why they kept to themselves and remained most of the time in the convent. However, a wise man had told him once that though their lives were very humble, what they had, they had to share, and Valjean desired to impress that upon his daughter. It seemed that she already knew. She had picked the largest basket. She had specifically made the choice that would allow them to distribute the most food, to do the most good. Her father's cheeks warmed and his chest puffed with pride. Already the girl had a sense of compassion. He knew that she must do it out of the goodness of her little heart; she was too young for pride, too young to realize that bringing the biggest basket would make them look better. No, Cosette was no arrogant Pharisee who did good deeds only so that others would see them. Quite the opposite. Her father had been gratified to see that she longed for no one's attention but his own, and she had it completely, fervently. He had considered his alibis, and would for now go by "Monsieur Fauchevelent," but the only name that he heard most days, and the one that he liked best, was "Papa." That favorite title rang sweetly in his ears as his daughter greeted him, and for a moment he closed his eyes and just held her. He relished the embrace of her warm little body, knowing that with proper care, she was growing and healthy. She had already grown on him... in more ways than one. Then she was pulling away to show him her work, making him smile fondly. "I see," he observed, admiring the basket with a nod of approval. "It's perfect." He had not been intending to give away the church's good linens, but he could pay to have them replaced. Everything else appeared to be in order, as he checked under the napkins and then replaced them. Picking up the basket with ease, he lowered his free hand to hold hers, smiling as she swung their arms. He set down the basket and helped her into the carriage before settling himself and their goods inside. He might have just walked, but the air was frigid, and he was overprotective of Cosette's health. He held her close to his side as she nestled against him, returning the woman's gaze evenly. Strange. Turning back to Cosette as she asked if other people helped the poor, he answered gently, "Not enough, mon ange." He fondled her little hands to warm them, giving himself something to do so that he might keep the sadness from his face. Then he tried to smile. "You are right. It is hard to be happy when you feel unwell. But perhaps we will make a few people smile today." Looking out at the gaunt faces, he rather doubted it, but he would not give up hope. They were scarcely on the street before a few beggars were inching closer, while more wary members of the crowd looked on and considered. Though Valjean held the basket - in a firm grip, let anyone get greedy - with one hand, his other hand was holding Cosette's hand just as tightly, and he was glad that she had left her doll at home so she could have her hand free to give out the food. The first man approached cautiously, and Valjean nodded to him respectfully before leaning down to murmur, "Give the gentleman something to eat, my child." askfldj so precious

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[followedmyheart]

Cosette swallowed, reminding herself to be brave. Her Papa was brave. He was the bravest person she had ever known. She wondered if her mother had been brave...Cosette didn't recall her at all. She supposed she must have been brave though. While her father didn't speak of her, when he did he did it with a reverence that spoke volumes of her mother. If she had been meek and shallow, Papa wouldn't speak of her the way he did. Cosette resolved to be brave, like her mother and father.
She had pulled back behind her father, clutching to his coat with her small, pale hands. She half hid her face, watching the man in curious interest. He didn't look so bad. He was still a person, just not as blessed as she was. He could speak, walk and probably laugh if he saw fit. The poor weren't different creatures, like so many of the rich thought. They were all the same, some just had fancier clothes and more perfume than others. She felt enlightened, as though she had finally absorbed the lesson her father had been trying to impress upon her.
Cosette looked inside the basket for a large piece of bread, one that she thought would make a nice meal for this older man. He was older than her father and would no doubt need all the energy he could muster. She grabbed a piece of cheese as well and wrapped them all up in one of the soft napkins.
Inching forward from Papa, she looked back at him with large, blue eyes before stretching her little arms out to offer the meal to the elderly man. He snatched it away so quickly that she jumped before scurrying back to her safe place behind her father.
The man however remained. He was no longer begging, but thanking them. She even thought she saw tears in his eyes. One act of kindness could change someone's life. Her act of kindness had shown the light of God on this man and he was happy for it.
Cosette felt instantly stronger. She even dared handing out some fruit and cheese to the two more outrageously dressed woman who walked confidently up to them, arm in arm. There personalities seemed more like a show than reality, but their hunger was true. They took the food as eagerly as the elderly man.
The little blonde girl smiled up at her father, “am I doing alright Papa?”

ATTIRE

[/color] A cute little cloak CREDIT Confronting the Faceless. NOTES oh my gosh all the Daddy/Daughter feels WORD COUNT: WHO THE HELL CARES [/center][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) idk ( TAGGED ) DULCIE/COSETTE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE It was difficult from Valjean to let his daughter inch out, to let her leave the protection of his embrace even for a moment, even to let her give a piece of bread to a starving man. He knew he could not keep her safe from everything, but this was essentially the first time that he had let her venture outside of the convent for this purpose, and the last time they had been outside that sacred fortress, that sanctuary, they had been chased by Javert. This time, the only man there, the only one watching each movement with hungry eagerness, was the beggar. Valjean forgave the man his quick movement, remembering his own days just out of Toulon, when he would have as quickly cursed as blessed, when he took what he could without a thought of thanks. He let Cosette stand behind him, once the kindness had been done, though she soon enough inched out once more. Valjean's kind eyes warmed at the man's toothless thanks. It seemed to encourage Cosette just as it did him. She proceeded to hand out food to more people, and Valjean let her do it, watching proudly. When she turned to him, he nodded enthusiastically. “Splendid, my child,” he answered, heart full to brimming with joy. He had grown accustomed to the grit, to the grime, to the strange clothing and the unkempt hair of the people who visited him, but that had been over years of time in prison, and she had that unthinking kindness that was blind to danger already. Perhaps it was because she was young that she did not worry about danger or disease, and only considered the merits of helping people rather than its hazards to herself. Indeed, the kingdom of God belonged to the children! He had observed, however, that Cosette was giving away rather large pieces of bread. Perhaps one thing that could be improved... "If we give smaller pieces, we will be able to help more people," he mused gently. "It will be enough." He knelt down, feeling the dirty water of the street seep into his clothes, to break the bread. "Do you remember the story of when Jesus Christ fed five thousand people with only two loaves of bread?" He smiled faintly. "Perhaps we will not manage quite so well, but we will certainly try." THE FLUFF. I NEEDS IT.

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[followedmyheart]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] Cosette nodded eagerly as her father spoke of one of her favorite stories in the bible. At night when he read to her while she fell asleep, it was usually that passage that she requested. She also loved Corinthians: the love it spoke up reminded her of her father. He exemplified all that was described. "But Papa, we have no fish!" Cosette giggled at his silliness, her childish manner having her look at the reality of the situation rather than the meaning. Her large eyes widened in wonder, "what if we really could feed everyone the way Jesus did? Oh I wish we could!" Cosette amy have been a child, but she knew well enough that she would have to be the Queen of France to afford enough bread to feed all the poor France. It seemed that even the Queen herself could not complete the task. For now she would have to make due with what they could do and pray for what they could not. Cosette took the smaller portions that her father handed her, giving them in turn to those that came up to them. Children became less cautious and smiled at her, running back to their parents with hands full of pieces of bread. She even dared so far as to leave her father's side to take bread to an elderly woman, whom she thought shouldn't have to walk all the way to her for some fruit. Even though they had packed the largest basket, Cosette knew that they would run out at some point. She frowned at the thought. "Can we return another day Papa?" Having seen the poor, her heart no longer dreamed of how she could help them, but felt obligated to do so. She truly had been blessed, and not only needed to but wanted to do all within her ability to help.

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) idk ( TAGGED ) DULCIE/COSETTE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Valjean laughed, hugging his daughter close and kissing the top of her head. “No, we have no fish,” he agreed, smiling tenderly at her. “But I believe the point of the story is that God can work with what we have, even if we do not have much. Even if we do not have fish.” He squeezed her tiny shoulder gently. At least he had her. With her, he felt like he could do anything. He had her, and he had God. With those two people for him, he could have nothing be against him. Not even Javert, not even poverty. Though the world might pass away, he still had faith, he still had hope, he still had love. And the greatest of those was love. He felt tears prick at his eyes. “I know, my child. I wish that as well.” He exhaled heavily. It was not possible to take care of every poor child on the streets. Cosette was responsibility enough; what a fate he had saved her from! He saw it in the thin faces and glazed eyes of every poor gamin and gamine. It made him ache. He tried, God knew he tried, but it could not be done. He could only pray that the good he could do would help as many people as possible. It would not make a difference to everyone, but it would make a difference to someone. As Burke had said, “no one ever made a greater mistake than he did nothing because he could only do something.” Yes, he had read the great philosophers; he was an educated man, but too many, far too many, of the “stoics” cared more for abstract thought than they did for real people with real suffering. No one had yet come up with a solution for poverty. But God, he was trying, one loaf of bread at a time. He watched Cosette give out the food, and felt that there would be hope yet. “Yes, mon ange,” he replied with a soft smile. “We will return.” He would return and return as long as he could, until Jesus returned for him to take his soul up to Heaven, or Javert returned to take him to jail. THE FLUFF. I NEEDS IT.

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[followedmyheart]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(http://i52.tinypic.com/otj5sn.jpg); width: 390px; height: 450px; -moz-border-radius: 40px 0px 40px 0px; border-radius:40px 0px 40px 0px; opacity: 0.8; border-right: #7298ac 15px solid; border-left: #7298ac 15px solid;] Cosette nodded in fevered agreement. With God all things were possible. The nuns and Papa had taught her that. As long as she dutifully prayed and kept to her faith, her life would be blessed. It already was, she had the best Papa in the world. She liked it better when he taught her the lessons of the world, rather than the nuns. Nuns preferred dull books and lectures that made her eyes sleepy. While her father's methods may be viewed as dangerous or strange, Cosette preferred it. Cosette held her father's hand, squeezing it tightly. He was the best possible thing in her life. She didn't know what she would do if her were to disappear. God would not be so cruel as to take her from him, until they had lived a happy life together. "Let's come back Sunday. The Lord's day." She swung his hand in hers happily as they walked back to their carriage, basket empty and hearts full of love. She had learnt far more in one afternoon with Papa than a whole week with the nuns. Cosette leaned against her father's shoulder as the carriage made it's way back to the convent. She hoped she would never take this gentle and kind man for granted. In the years to come she knew that he would no doubt teach her all the lessons of life. She looked to the future with eagerness, knowing that she was safe and loved.

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made by hay shay @ caution!

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