Hit The Ground Running [Open]

[COSETTE FAUCHELEVENT]

Although Claudette had arrived with friends, she seemed to have lost them in the excitement of the festivities, but she wasn't really worried. They would meet up again, and if not, she knew her way home by herself. It was a bit frightening to be alone among so many people, but she didn't believe she had anything to fear.

A group of acrobats handspringed past her, stopping a short distance away to put on a show. A crowd quickly gathered around them, and Claudette found herself in the front row, watching as they flipped and tumbled and contorted their bodies into positions that seemed impossible. The young aristocrat was entranced and she clapped as ecstatically as the rest of the audience when their performance came to an end.

Continuing her stroll, a band of jugglers caught her attention, and she stopped to observe them, admiring the easy manner in which they flipped balls, clubs, and even knives through the air. When she began to become dizzy watching the various objects flying about, she moved on to a troupe of actors, performing a short comedy that had her laughing until tears flowed down her cheeks. Claudette remembered her own brief acting experience in England, and nostalgia washed over her. That had been an adventure she would not mind repeating.

After that, she came upon a group of musicians, who were playing traditional French songs. After asking for permission, she joined them, adding her sweet soprano voice to the music of their instruments. More coins were tossed into their hat while she was singing with them than when she wasn't, and when she professed that she was thirsty and must get something to drink, they told her to come back and join them anytime.

Delicious scents wafted about in the breeze, and Claudette soon found herself at a food stand. After buying and draining a glass of fruit juice, she purchased an aromatic pastry … which was every bit as good as it smelled. Walking to the corner of a building to eat in as much privacy as the festivities provided, she noticed a scruffy-looking kitten gazing up at her with hunger in its eyes. Claudette loved animals, and didn't mind sharing her food with the tiny furball. If it was friendly, maybe she would take it home with her. She doubted that her mother would mind if she kept at pet.

Tearing off a piece of her pastry, she held it out to the little feline. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she said. The cat moved closer, sniffed the pastry, and then bounded away. Not one to give up so quickly, Claudette hurried after it, calling to it in a soft and gentle voice. The kitten stopped several times and looked at her, cocking its little head and meowing as if it really wanted to trust her but was not sure it should. Once she came so close to it, she could nearly touch its soft calico fur, but then it hissed at her and off it went again.

After following it around yet another corner, she did not see it anymore. It was then that she realized she had not paid any attention to her surroundings and had no idea how to get back to the festivities. Claudette could hear the faint strains of music, and so she tried to follow the sound, walking down streets and turning corners that would hopefully bring her closer to the crowd.

And the sounds were becoming louder. Now she walked with a bit more confidence, believing she had finally found her way.

Until she saw the three rough-looking young men out of the corner of her eye. At first she thought that they were simply traveling in the same direction as she, but it soon became apparent they were stalking her. Her heart hammered within her chest and she began to walk faster. I should never have followed that kitten, she thought. I should have stayed where I knew it was safe.

The men were gaining on her, slowly but surely. It seemed as if the were trying to stay unnoticed, so they could sneak upon her without her knowledge. Claudette was truly frightened now, and her heart beat so fiercely it seemed as if it might burst from her chest. She wanted to run, but knew that was not a good idea. They would be on her in less than a minute, and she would never be able to fight them off. She had no idea what they intended to do to her once they caught her, but all sorts of horribly vivid scenarios played through her mind. All of them struck horror into her soul.

Turning a corner, she found herself in yet another unfamiliar street, yet closer to the one she sought by the sounds of merriment she heard. There were a few people milling about but they all looked disreputable and would probably not care if she were attacked. For all she knew they would even join in. Her pursuers must have realized that she was getting closer to safety and walked a bit faster now.

Still pretending she did not see them, Claudette hurried down one street and then another … this one more densely populated. She continued to walk briskly, but believed that now that there were people around her, the men would leave her alone and go on to easier prey.

She was wrong.

A rough hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Claudette turned around and found herself staring at a man with a lewd grin on his face and only half the teeth he should have had. Looking down, she stepped hard on his threadbare shoes. With a grunt of pain, he released her and she took off running.

Turning down another street, she could hear their footsteps pounding behind her. She was back among the celebrants now, but her pursuers had not given up. She was going to need help, but who could she trust? Her eyes scanned the crowd, and came to rest on a respectable-looking man who did not seem like the sort who would mean her harm.

Decision made, she sprinted up to him and grabbed him by the arm. “I'm being followed,” she gasped. “Pretend you know me.”

{{OOC: My first posts tend to be quite long, so please do not think you must match my word count. As long as you give me something to work with, even if it only a couple of hundred words, it's all good. }}

[msieurthernadier]

Louis had been having a reasonable may-day... of course he had been standing around doing more or less nothing, he had sent a few of his men back to the house with the flowers for his daughters and he was watching amused as members of his gang terrorised the gypsies who ran the stalls who were running around the streets as the top-hatted thugs pursued them throwing rotten vegetables. The police left the members of Patron-Minette largely enough alone even when the law as being broken right under their blue noses. Louis didn't particularly care what his gang did as long as they remained relatively close to him and they followed him by example, they looked upto Louis Thenardier, they revered him and Louis rewarded their reverence with gentle smiles full of the charisma of a man who had previously owned a bar and knew all the tricks in the book on how to keep his customers happy.

Of course today had also been collection day, the day where Louis and his men would go around the various businesses, beggars and organisations to exact their 'tribute' that was ontop of the money that everyone had to pay him and the Patron-Minette as the dominant force on Paris' most notorious street. It was more lucrative than people imagined, for Louis took money from the beggars, he took 'gifts' from the thieves, he exacted tolls from the pickpockets and had his pick of whatever he wanted on the street itself. In exchange for the money he was given, the residents of the street were left relatively unmolested and alone by both the law and by other hoodlums. Those affiliated with the gang who chose to try and bypass Louis' and taking a percentage of the leader's own cut. Well those men died and bodies washed up in the Seine all the time. But the authorities didn't care, there were simply too many behind Thenardier to throw soldiers at and despite the brutal repression that occurred regularly on the streets of Paris.

Of course they'd have to bring in the National Guard and though the powers that be would desperately have loved to rid themselves of the unruly, ever-growing organisation and it's knife wielding leader. Disposing of them using such an authoritative force would only add fuel to the fires of revolution. Louis played on that for all it was worth and so here he stood, smoking his pipe and walking along minding his own business and acting like he owned the place, which he actually did. People didn't interfere with him because of his reputation and the group of brutish men following behind him. The reprisals for trying to eliminate Louis Thenardier were vicious and violent and many had tasted the blade of the knives that hung from his belt, many more had been let go ashamed of what they had done and shunned and beaten whenever a member of Louis' gang caught sight of them.

For Louis Thenardier knew how to utilise all of his weapons; from the razor sharp knives and the cleaver that hung at his waist in a butcher's belt, to the very feelings of those around him. He knew how to use fear to his advantage, as long as people feared him they would do nothing, they would allow him to do whatever he wanted. He smoked thoughtfully puffing out blue smoke as he watched the festivities taking place he called his men back in with a whistle and the four or five that he had chosen to accompany him had come back grinning and breathless, some with bloodied faces and most with bloodied knuckles.

"I see the Gypsies are starting to remember their place." Louis chuckled as he walked and scanned the crowds, looking for people he knew, picking out familiar faces and people avoided his gaze, the glass eye followed his normal eye just as it should but it's odd off white color betrayed it's lack of humanity. Louis had long learned to accommodate for the lack of sight in one eye and it was terrifying how good a fighter he was with just the one piercing blue eye at his command.

With a few muttered words, his men had walked off to go attend to some business for him, mostly the business of making sure his daughters were relatively safe and to make sure they'd got their flowers. Louis was comfortable on his own in this crowd, he didn't need all the eyes in the world to watch out for him. Walking in his top-hat, an overcoat buttoned at his waist over a waist-coat and a white shirt buttoned and tied, he looked rather like a member of high society. His unkempt hair was wavy and grewn down to the base of his neck where it curled upwards slightly.

His mustache had been trimmed and it's twirling ends curved upwards from his face each end curling around not touching the mustache itself but pointing upwards. A perfectly grown mustache that complimented his appearance, his hands were scrubbed and relatively clean a little dirt clung to his fingernails though and his hair was greasy and a little lank.

He felt something come into contact with him and he turned around at a little speed, delicate fingers wrapped around the grey cuff of his sleeve and he looked down breathing through his nose, his other hand had reached for a knife at his belt immediately. He stayed that hand as he looked into the girl's worried face, listening to her words he looked at the men following her. Common thugs, no respect for women. Louis could never have said he was a good man, but he certainly had his principles and picking on the fairer and usually (though not always) the gentler sex was something he frowned upon with extreme prejudice. "Of cawse, Miss." his distinct accent made it obvious who he was

Louis smiled down at her in a kind reassuring manner and took her small, fragile hand in his own and began to walk on the street. He could hear footsteps coming closer. He looked down talking to the woman. "So I bawght my dawghters some flowers from one of the stawlls... nice bunch of roses fawr 'em... hopefully they ain't old enough to be spoilt by their papa." he looked around and carried on talking. "So I hear yawr mother's taken ill, how is she doin' at the moment. Good or bad?"

((OOC: If the thugs carry on pursuing the pair of them Louis'll turn the tables but I decided I'd leave it upto you I hope this is okay ))

[COSETTE FAUCHELEVENT]

As soon as her 'savior' opened his mouth, Claudette felt as if she had traded one form of trouble for another. Aristocrats did not speak in such a coarse fashion and now that she got a good look at him, he did not look at all like a nobleman, despite the fact that he was dressed to appear that way. It wasn't unusual for more wealthy commoners to dress finely, but there were differences that only one of her class would notice … differences that set him apart from a true aristocrat. Such as the slightly greasy hair curling at the nape of his neck, and his manner of walking which was more like a swagger than an elegant stride.

And when he took her small hand in his, she noticed that his fingernails were not manicured and his skin a bit rough. Noblemen had smooth hands, for the most strenuous work they ever did was play insruments or write poetry. They had servants to perform the laborious tasks for them.

And his eyes … Claudette nearly bolted when she saw that one was milky white and had no pupil. Yet her need for protection eclispsed her apprehension for the moment, and she allowed him to lead her down the street. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was certain he could hear it, and she forced herself to smile up at him.

“I'm sure your daughters will love the flowers you bought for them,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “A girl is never too old to enjoy gifts from her father. They should consider themselves lucky to be so spoiled.” They should consider themselves lucky to have a father as well.

Or did he even have daughters? He was definitely old enough to have children around the same age as she. Was that why he had agreed to help her? Was there a good heart lurking behind his rather ambiguous demeanor? Claudette noticed the deference he was given by the denizens of the street, and the fear she saw in some of their faces. Who was he, and had she escaped her attackers only to run straight into the arms of someone worse?

The young woman was not accustomed to prowling about the streets of Paris. When she did go out, it was only to the fashionable shopping areas and she traveled by carriage. She did not belong in this seedy world and she knew nothing about it. Oh, she had heard stories about the criminal element in the citiy, and how some men had achieved considerable power using their fists and their wits to rise above the rabble. They had a government of sorts of their own and demanded tribute from their minions. From the way others looked at him, this man could be one of their leaders. Or perhaps she was just imagining things and she was perfectly safe in his presence.

A casual glance behind her showed her that her three would-be attackers were still following them, keeping a discreet distance as they muttered among themselves. The lesser of two evils was the man with whom she was walking. Even if he was a criminal, he was being quite kind to her, although he might be trying to gain her trust so that he could lure her to a place where he could hold her for ransom. Her opulant clothing and cultured voice proclaimed her a fine lady, and she knew her mother would pay whatever price he asked for her return.

As soon as the men behind them lost interest in her, she would make a run for it, but for now she seemed to be caught in a trap of her own making and she must play along. “My mother is doing much better,” she replied in answer to his question. “In fact, she was talking about you and your family the other day.” She forced a brittle laugh from her throat. “I think she's planning to invite all of you to dinner once she's fully recovered. You know how much she loves to entertain.”

A seemingly carefree toss of her head allowed her another look over her shoulder. The three thugs were getting closer now. They were still speaking … perhaps making plans? … while they kept their cold determined eyes on Claudette and her perplexing companion.

“And I would love to see your daughters again,” she continued. “It's been quite awhile. I trust they are well?” She squeezed his hand to get his attention. “They're still following,” she whispered. “I don't know why they want me, but they aren't giving up. I think they might be planning to attack us.”

If he was the kind of man she thought he was, he would already be aware of what was happening behind them and would be making his own plans. Yet, as she gazed up at him, she wondered if she had been wrong and he was nothing but a kindly commoner who had decided to come to the aid a damsel in distress.

{{OOC: Sorry it took so long for me to post, but I have been a bit ill. Feel free to do whatever you wish with the thugs ... have them attack, run away, whatever you think will make the best story. }}