Freedom is Mine! {Javert/Valjean}

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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;] before you chain me up ( WORDS ) idk ( TAGGED ) ROBIN/JAVERT ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Three years for every escape he attempted. Jean Valjean had learned this from experience. But the reward for escaping was far too great to let the risk of a longer sentence if he was caught deter him. This would be his second escape attempt, but if he did not get out successfully this time, it certainly would not be his last. He cared little for his own life here in this prison, or for the lives of anyone else, for that matter. All he cared about was getting out; he had never quite thought about what he was getting out to, only what he was escaping from. He was an angry man, a dead man, whose heart had been hardened by strict adherence to the law being beat into him. He could feel the risen skin of his back where the whip had stung if he became belligerent or let there be any slack in his work. He could feel the chain on his right leg, the one that would always limp from the weight that had been dragged behind him for years already. Yes, it would be there even in freedom - and freedom he would soon have. It was night time in the Bagne of Toulon. Almost nothing could be seen, but Valjean had been here long enough to have had his eyes adjust to the darkness. In every sense of the word, he was accustomed to darkness. He could only hope that the guards were not, at least in the sense of sight; Valjean had seen that there was darkness in their heart. His last escape attempt, they had also been able to see him, for he had foolishly, impulsively, tried to escape during the day. It had been reckless, done out of rage rather than a good plan, but this time he was prepared. Doing work on construction, digging, and working with ships, he had begun to grow strong. The iron chain on his leg that limited his movement was no longer heavy enough to hold him. He dragged the chain along resolutely, other men coming with him, some out of desire, some out of physical restriction being chained to Valjean. He was that kind of man, attracting people with the sheer force of his will. With it, he moved along the west quay, where the prisoners were housed, towards the sea. Shovels, beams... any materials they could find from their work, they took, and they would use against anyone who came against them. The guards would awake eventually, he knew. And soon enough, they had been alerted. He shuffled along faster. He bared his teeth at anyone who came too near him, wielding a large shovel like a dangerous club as they continued to edge their way to freedom. He would be free, or die. terrible post, sorry. shiz just got real y'all... i also love that this image has "socialite life" at the bottom juxtaposed with that face

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0

[ÉMILE JAVERT]

Javert had had a late night turning in. As thus he’d not been asleep for long, which wouldn’t have improved his mood as he heard the shouts of other guards. He was quick to his feet though, dragging his uniform on, the fact he couldn’t get it neat and precise not improving his mood. It wasn’t helping his mood that the uniform was soaked through with salt spray from monitoring the prisoners as they’d worked on bringing a damaged ship into a dry dock. It had the side effect that his uniform was now stiff with salt from where it had dried, keeping it nearly solid, and definitely not the most comfortable of items to wear.

Quickly though he was off joining the other prison guards, finding out what was happening by word of mouth. Prisoner 24601 was making another escape attempt. He almost wished he was armed with a rifle like the perimeter guards had. He was feeling almost vulnerable, a feeling he was determined to squash out. He couldn’t allow criminals to even try and intimidate him. All he had as a weapon was a whip, and a truncheon. Even he had learnt of that prisoner’s rather legendary strength, and it wasn’t something that he wanted to particularly go against.

His mind was already working on what the best way to prevent this escape, and he was angry that he didn’t have the authority to give any orders. “We need to get some light on the escape area,” he stated, more to himself than anyone else though. No one else would listen to him. He could hear the roar of the ocean as a storm was whipping up, and he could almost taste the salt in the air. In the distance there was a roar of thunder. While the thunder storm that was building was only making things darker there was also a hope.

There was a flash of lightning in the distance briefly illuminating the escaping criminals, or those trying to escape. “Drop your weapons now. If you do not drop them you will get shot,” his voice rung out calm, strong. He was bluffing slightly; he knew that it was even more dangerous with the lightning flashes. It would temporarily blind him, however he was hoping that it would also blind anyone trying to escape, put them off, keep them still at least for a while.

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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;] before you chain me up ( WORDS ) idk ( TAGGED ) ROBIN/JAVERT ( STATUS ) COMPLETE It was dark, the light of the stars and moon obscured by thick storm clouds rolling in. Though he could not see entirely where he was going, as it was even darker here than it was inside of the jail where a few candles persisted, Valjean shuffled forward, trying to move away from the sound of crashing waves. It would not do to find himself at the edge of the water. Strong though he was, swimming with a heavy chain seemed unwise. Though he could not see, yes, he could hear – hear the strong voice of a guard. The men around him who had resisted earlier now dropped their wooden beams or shovels, cowardly traitors, but a few held their ground, and Valjean was one of them. He was uncertain whether the guard would actually shoot. They would have little chance of hitting their intended target, but all of these men were going to die anyway, weren't they? In the eyes of the law, they were all useless criminals; no one thought they might have a past or a family or a heart. He was a risk taker out of necessity, whether that was stealing bread to save his sister's son, or now stealing his freedom to save himself. If he died here, let him die – it was better to die on his feet than live on his knees, and working here in sweaty toil for the rest of his days was hardly living. How he longed to move without the feeling of chains weighing him down! He hefted the shovel more resolutely. Without access to a gun or knife, anything became a weapon; he had always been resourceful, but living in a prison had only made him more so whenever fights broke out. He clutched at his sword and was silent and still for a moment. It was nearly pitch black. Curse his white shirt! It stood out like a flag. He would have rid himself of it, were it not for the chains that bound him and prevented him from taking it off. He dropped to his knees and let the wet sand coat him, until he was less visible, then rose again nimbly. It was too dark for anyone to tell whether he had dropped his weapon or not. Continuing to walk and cursing the chains that clanked and indicated his location, he paused only for a second when a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, revealing a guard that stood right in front of him. With a primal roar, Valjean raised his shovel, waving it threateningly. fierce. the guard can be javert, or someone else, and javert can intervene to save the poor guy xD

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0

[ÉMILE JAVERT]

If Javert was in any way intimidated by this he barely blinked, slightly further back in the order. While he didn't have any real rank the other guards seemed to have taken him as a leader, not that he was sure why. Surely they realised he was just the same as them. "Drop your weapon 2.4.6.0.1, you shall not escape, and what is the point in trying when we have you surrounded? You have already added another three years to your sentence, if you kill another man it will become ten - if you even leave this place at all and do not hang. Do you really want that?" his voice was cold, calm but cold.

While that was a partial bluff he was hoping the other prisoner wouldn't see it as they were plunged once more into darkness. He'd only just finished speaking before a rumble of thunder once again roared around them. A spray of salt water came up over the sides of the dry docks, soaking all, just as the rain started to come down heavier. It ran off of his precisely clipped head, trails running down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of the shirt he wore beneath the brushed wool jacket and making this stand off all the more miserable.

While they were plunged in darkness he sent a whisper around to shuffle forwards 5 paces and make a rough arch shape. He knew that the prisoner before him couldn’t hope to fight them all, and he hoped that his intimidation attempt would work even more to ensure that he dropped his weapon. He’d also requested one of the guards at the back of the prison guards to go, inform the perimeter guards with the rifles of the escape attempt, as he had no idea if there had been any information passed to them.

As the next flash of lightning he didn’t flinch when a shot rang into the air, almost relieved that the gunpowder hadn’t been dampened to the point it couldn’t be used. “That was a warning shot. Drop your weapons now. You are outnumbered and cannot fight all of us, last chance,” he was staring straight into the other prisoners’ eyes now. The one guard who had foolishly got too close back among his comrades, joining into the wall the cluster of guards had made only two ranks thick.

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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;] before you chain me up ( WORDS ) 352 ( TAGGED ) ROBIN/JAVERT ( STATUS ) COMPLETE 24601. He had become so dehumanized that he no longer had a name. They wanted him to treat him as if he were simply a pack animal – no identity, no feelings? Fine. That is how he would act. Savagely, he swung his shovel; he would certainly not drop it. Too late: the man had returned to his ranks. At least they acknowledged that it was a weapon, at least for once they took him seriously. But they had always known that he was dangerous, hadn't they? Or they wouldn't go through so much effort to break them. That was why he was here – because he was a dangerous man, or so they had said, because he stole a loaf of bread. What was the point of escape? Well, he had already added three years to his sentence, what was the point of staying? There was no point in speaking, either; they would not listen. There was no point in telling him his name, or asking for theirs. And yet, he replied. “I want my freedom!” he thundered, nearly in concert with the more natural rumble overhead. His nostrils flared in anticipation, his face made savage by rage and rain. “Liberty or death!” He knew little of the American Revolution that had happened a few years in the past, but he remembered as a child when this triumphant cry had been instigated from overseas, and now he applied it to himself. Death he may face; he backed closer to the water. Jumping was pointless; he was chained to too many others, his weight could not drag them all down. The cowards were giving up. He still clutched his shovel, but it was too late. They were trapped. His shoulders sagged though his eyes still blazed. He would die here before he had his liberty, wouldn't he? He stepped forward, almost mechanically. “Then shoot if you dare. We mean nothing to you.” The men in chains beside him rustled nervously. It was dark, and rifles were not especially accurate in the first place. They did not want to die for their failed leader's stupidity. it's so hard for me to write valjean like this!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0