Friendships and Alliances (tag- Henri)

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Note- sorry this took a while, but it's up now and yay for Henri and Aurélien meeting.

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

Henri was filled with a certain degree of apprehension at their meeting. He trusted the young man he'd met at the parade well enough; the leader of these rumored revolutionaries he'd heard so much about. But Enjolras did not look like what he had imagined, and he was surprised—not unpleasantly, really, but simply surprised—to find that the leader of those more urban revolutionaries was also from a wealthy family.

Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him, he knew quite clearly that republican ideas generally only came to those who had read something of them—and those people most often were from an at least marginally privileged class. For this reason he respected, even celebrated, the activities of Enjolras' group in handing out pamphlets and telling attendees of the parade about their aims.

Those people on the streets were the ones they would need if this revolution was to be successful. A handful of young aristocrats and rag-tag collection of students and abused villagers could not topple the government of France without the voice of the people behind them. And that was the ideal, the beauty, the spirit of a republic anyway—the people would be able, finally, to speak for themselves, with their own voices, in determining their fates and that of their country.

Meeting another group with shared ideals, exchanging ideas with people who thought similarly to him but yet whom he had never met—this inspired him, overcame the twinges of anxiety and made him anxious instead for the day of their revolution.

Part of him was relieved that the man had agreed to meet with him here, beyond the city's boundaries. He knew the forest far better than he knew Paris, and he felt safer. More able to control the situation, more certain of who would or would not hear whatever information was exchanged. Although he did not doubt that Enjolras knew the maze of Parisian streets and student cafes at least as well as Henri knew forest, there were far fewer unfriendly ears here in the woods.

Nevertheless, he went armed. He believed Enjolras was telling the truth—but it was far better to go armed. It was rare for him to venture beyond the camp boundaries without at least a pistol anymore, though generally he had only enough ammunition for two or three shots. He hoped he wouldn't need any.

Emerging onto the road, he turned his horse in the direction from which he had told him to arrive. Squeezing his mount into a brisk trot, he caught sight of the man from some distance out. He brought his horse to a halt when he drew near.

“Good day,” he greeted him. “I'm glad you found your way.”

(OOC: Sorry for the poor post quality! They should get better after this)

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note- Your post was fine, sorry mine might be a bit dull, I'll get better. Hehe.

[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

Henri smiled slightly at the other man's words. He found him likable; there was a certain degree of charm and polish to him that most of his comrades had lost during the time in the forest, if they had ever possessed it at all. Some of the well-bred charm had worn away from Henri himself over the time spent in the forest, but it had not yet been entirely worn away.

“We've heard quite a bit about you, M. Enjolras. I will warn you that you may find our encampment rather...” he searched for the word for a moment. “Primitive, compared to Paris.” Even the poorer districts of Paris, where it seemed this collection of young revolutionaries frequented, had a quality the forest lacked. “Most of our people are peasants and villagers now.”

This pleased Henri, in a way. It helped him feel more connected to the people for whom he wanted to build a republic, despite his own upper-class origins. He was learning their way of life in a way he'd never been able to from behind the walls of the chateau. Realistically, he was quite thankful he hadn't been born to the life of an agricultural laborer—but it was worth seeing how such people lived. Without that, he would not know how best to keep their interests in mind in fighting for a republic.

And such people would be essential to the building republic. Every measurement he had ever seen told him that the French population consisted overwhelming of people like these, the inhabitants of the countryside, their small towns and villages. The streets of Paris and the people who lived there had their own value, were as indispensable as the rural population—but they were not the bulk of it. Without the countryside, there would be even no food for the cities.

“I apologize for any wait. I was delayed briefly at the camp.” As was common with any large collection of people, the camp was usually in some degree of disorder—something that did concern Henri, though he suspected it would be impossible to eliminate the element of chaos that had arisen from the arrival of most of the village of Barbizon. One of the women had gone into labor during the night, sending many of the others into an excited panic and distracting the young boys who usually cared for the horses.

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[/b] He answers softly. "I am as susceptible to the charm of the French countryside as I am to that of Paris." Enjolras explains, and his expression is mild and open. His eyes appraising of this new companion. He is perhaps a bit naturally wary but Enjolras is happy to meet anybody who shares his aims and goals and his lofty ideals.

Enjolras knows how capable all of his friends are, each have their strengths and wonders, Enjolras treasures each of them. At the end of the day though, they are a small group. 10 men cannot overthrow a government, even one that has a child sitting upon it's throne. They need more people, even if Enjolras thinks he shoulders the burden of leadership well, he puts a lot of weight on his own shoulders. He doesn't resent that weight, as he put it there himself, but that does that change that it is there and that occasionally it presses down on him harder than others.

He worries, but he hides it, his friends are important to him. He doesn't want them to die, though he knows there is a possibility of it. He doesn't want this revolution to be a senseless bloodbath and to ensure that happens. They need friends, and weapons, they need allies who will help them stir up the support of the people. Enjolras knows one thing if he knows anything. It's that without the people, the revolution has no chance at success.

Enjolras shakes off the thought though as he follows Henri's lead, trotting their mounts together now. "Suffice to say, primitive is not bad. Paris has her downfalls, and I often find myself knee and elbows deep in the suffering and the filth she would hide from the world." He says, and there is no judgment in that. He is not faint of heart, and he doesn't shy away from the grotesque or the suffering that he wades through. He would only see it changed, he would have things be different. He is not a man of inaction though, and he will fight (die if he must) for that necessary change. "Anyway, what would any nation be without it's common people? And besides, the people are the necessary step to a republic. Do you not agree?" He asked, gentle, casual. The same way he might talk to Combeferre or Courfeyrac.

He lifts a hand from the reigns and waves off the apology. Enjolras is patient, and he does not mind waiting as long as he has waited for good reason. This meeting does not seem to be something that is going to waste his time. "No apologies are needed. A leader is a man with many responsibilities. And I know your group has more concerns than just revolution." He says softly. "They say you give these people a safe place to go. An admirable goal, certainly."

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[HENRI ROQUEFEUIL-BLANQUEFORT]

The man was likable. Henri knew better than to expect that from him simply because of his political ideals, but he supposed there was some advantage in a leader having a certain degree of charm. Especially in a place like Paris, where there could no doubt be a hundred different men looking to lead their own movements. Things were and had always been different in the forest; the Sacred Heart was the only option left to many of the refugees from Barbizon.

“Haughty was not one of the things I heard,” he answered with half a smile. “But life in the forest was even a shock to me at first,” he confessed. Despite having spent most of his childhood free time there, it was different to actually live in the forest. He could return to the estate from time to time for supplies, but the old comforts that he had been raised in expectation of—things that so many people lacked, and sometimes he scolded himself for having grown up expecting—were largely absent.

It might be quite different for Enjolras, though, Henri realized. The young man would not be living in the forest indefinitely, only visiting their encampment to talk. But he could not be certain either whether he had ever spent any length of time observing a village of peasants, and it was that far more than a city that their camp had come to resemble.

“I prefer the countryside, but I grew up only a few miles from the forest and spent all the time I could here as a child.” It was harmless information, shared with another revolutionary. He turned his horse onto a game trail. There were plenty of them, and most of them led to the vicinity of the camp because of the water there. Sometimes he wondered if there was a danger in that, but with the population of their settlement swelling, they could not leave the water too far behind.

“If it were not for the people, we would have nothing to fight for,” Henri nodded in agreement. A revolution for the sake of only the higher classes was, in essence, what the Chouannerie had performed. Part of him wondered if they had even managed to get what they had wanted; it was difficult to say from his place in the forest.

“Many of them had nowhere else to go,” Henri explained. “There have been... difficulties... in the village where many of them originated. Others came from elsewhere—the suffering is not confined to the cities.” It was, at times, quite a different sort of suffering he supposed—but that did not make it lesser. "Even if it begins in Paris, it must grow into a revolution for all of France."