The Parade [GROUP THREAD]

[CHRISTOPHE FEUILLY]

Feuilly turned toward the approaching Marius as he heard his name and smiled a greeting. The crowd was getting louder, with the fight, and there was little point in trying to make conversation because of it.

He did not like the way the situation was developing. A tangle with the Patron-Minette was a bad idea on the best of days; if their hope had been to bring people to their cause, this was not the way to do it. It was nobody's fault, really--Enjolras couldn't be blamed for trying to talk to them, certainly--but it had every prospect of ending disastrously. Had his friends not been there, he would have run—he had never been good with his fists, and an injury to his hands would be bad for his livelihood as well.

And it was dangerous for everyone else, as well, though as soon as he became aware of the two pairs of female eyes resting on Marius, he realized abruptly that not everyone was either primed for a fight or caught up in Enjolras' winged words. Marius, Marius... how did he get girls chasing after him from all sides like that? One blonde, one dark, one dressed like a lady, one barefoot in a tattered skirt. It might have been amusing if that didn't have the potential to end badly, too.

He couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for Eponine. Marius' attention was so clearly elsewhere, and that alone seemed to have struck her down. Feuilly doubted that Marius, good-hearted as he was, even realized that he had hurt the girl.

Another pair of eyes, intense beneath the brim of a hat with a bright blue Patron-Minette sash, locked onto the darker-haired girl as well. Montparnasse moved forward with an almost remarkable grace, his steps slow, a knife appearing in his hand as quickly as a predatory smile crossed his youthful face. “Eponine, Eponine... imagine that. To see you here, and with these...” He would not use the knife on her, no... but he lacked Gueulemer's brute strength—the blade was the young wolf's fangs this evening, their surroundings unsuited to the garrote. Though he turned his head slightly toward the blond revolutionary as he spoke again, he had no use for his words. What bearing did the causes of the right and noble have on him? He could kill him, yes, even with the knife, without so much as staining his fingers. He licked his lips, still for the moment.

The violence was building, and Feuilly was relieved to hear Enjolras call it off. It was a shame that the evening was wasted, but perhaps the messages spread earlier in the day had fallen on fertile minds. He turned toward Marius, touching his sleeve. “We should go.” He was afraid he might not have heard their leader's words, dazzled as he seemed to be.

The shots from the National Guard startled Feuilly, but he waited where he was for a moment longer. His heart pounded, but it seemed unwise to chase after Enjolras on the same path, and he supposed he might be safer than some of his friends. There were no pamphlets on him, he had shouted no revolutionary slogans.

The shots had driven Montparnasse back as well. Too risky, with far too little reward. Wolfishly, he slipped back between the other members of Patron-Minette, casting another, almost haughty, glance at Thenardier's daughter and her little revolutionaries.

[LA MORT]

L E T S - J U S T- N P C

STAFF CONTROLLED CHARACTER

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] THE OFFICER

[atrb=width,240] Things were getting rowdy in the streets. Ranier was, of course, familiar with the members of the Patron-Minette, as well as the gypsies who crowded the streets. They usually scattered at the sight of the Guard, but tonight, they were bolder than usual. He watched, his whole form still except for the life in his blue eyes. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth at the sight of the students entering the brawl. God preserve them! “If they do not desist, fire off a warning shot,” he ordered his men. A blow was swung, but did not connect, and Ranier was relieved. As ordered, a round of harmless pops filled the air, and had frightened off some members of the Patron-Minette as well as the students. He sighed; the celebration, or whatever they had deemed this monstrosity to be, was over; they could go home in peace. But then he heard the scream. There was an old gypsy woman who had staggered back, teetering for one long, agonizing moment before sinking to the pavement, supported by the arms of a shocked bystander who caught her in the dying fall. The gypsy girl beside her still shrieked in horror, before there was a more articulate yell from a man: “You killed an innocent woman!” Eyes wide, Ranier rounded on his subordinates. “I said to fire warning shots into the air!” But it was too late. God, it was too late. He could not possibly find whoever the idiot shooter was now, assuming it had been one of his own men rather than someone else trying to stir up trouble in the crowd; he could not know. He could not scold them in front of this crowd, in any case. Not when the crowd might rush upon them in violence at any moment. They could only hold themselves in readiness. The crowd of parade-goers was large, but they were unarmed, aside from the torches: no match for guns. Many had already dispersed. For now, at least, there would be no more violence. For now.

[atrb=width,100] NAME, FIDELE RANIER AGE, 32 CONTROLLED BY, FRATERNITE

TEMPLATE BY THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY @ CAUTION 2.0

[Deleted]

The spell was broken with her touch. She was real. He was real. But then, suddenly everything else was real. How could he let himself be taken in so? No, he would not regret the intense pounding in his heart for her, but he would regret letting down his friends. Perhaps he could have intervened- prevented the trouble that was brewing just a few feet away that he had been ignoring. He allowed himself those last few blissful moments as he held her small hand in his and heard the gentle word that was her name. Cosette. Cosette. Cosette. The name echoed in his mind like the deepest canyon. Her face burned a picture into him stronger than anything imaginable. This would not be their last meeting, but he was glad to release her hand from his. She had to get to safety. ”May your wings carry you to safety, mon ange.” He whispered the words quickly to his precious heart’s desire as he quickly grabbed her hand once more to place a kiss on her knuckles. ”Now, go!

The words could not have come at a more appropriate time as he soon heard the sound of gun fire. His gaze shot to his friends. Who was hurt? What was needed of him? Marius had overheard Enjolras’ directions. He knew the plan. He was no longer under any sort of fantastical delusions. The world was real, dark, and dirty. His angel was flying to safety, and he would be soon. He looked to his friends in hopes of finding the best way out. Marius knew the city well, but in times like this, his friends were better to rely upon. Eponine! ”’Ponine! His voice rang out as he shouldered his way toward her. ”Shall we? He linked his fingers through hers. He could keep her safe and reach safety quicker with her guidance. It was then that the screams of pain registered with Marius. Someone had truly been shot. An innocent. France had already paid so much- it should not have to continue to pay with innocent blood. The revolution burned within him once more as he looked to make sure his loved ones were safe and escaping as instructed. If anyone thought it right to stay, a brawl would quickly ensue, and the guard was far better prepared.

[EPONINE THENARDIER]

Things had gone so quickly from order to chaos, Eponine thought it might set her head to spinning.  An eternity seemed pass while Marius and Cosette stood staring at each other, and with each passing moment, Eponine's heart shattered further.  As they took each other's hands, she felt her frown deepen despite her resolution to never let her emotions show like that.  She couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy seeing the way Marius seemed to disappear into Cosette's eyes.  She still couldn't understand how he had fallen so hard and so fast.  Marius barely knew the girl and had spent nearly no time with her.  Unlike Eponine who had been there, by his side for so long.  And yet she had never seen him look at her with a quarter of the affection he held for "his beloved."  Eponine had hoped that time would temper his too-good-to-be-real vision of what Cosette looked like.  Perhaps reality would set in and he would realize that the perfect angel he described was nothing but an illusion.  No one could be that perfect, could they?

As the pair parted, Eponine's hope for his desire to cool disappeared. She watched her former servant as Marius kissed her hand and she saw Cosette turn to meet her gaze.  There was a pleading in her eyes, a silent desperate request. Lead him to me. Please. After their exchange today, she now knew just where to find Cosette, and after their childhood, Eponine felt she owed the girl at least that much. Her gaze follower Cosette as she retreated, only to catch the glint of a knife out of the corner of her eye. Quickly she turned towards it, finding the predatory stare she knew all too well. Montparnasse. She tried hard to hide the shiver it sent through her as she held his gaze, daring him to try anything.

She was debating what exactly she could do to stop him when the shots rang out and the screaming began. Montparnasse faded into the shadows, quickly obscured by the now panicked crowd. It wasn't until she heard her name that she realized that Marius was pushing his way to her. As he twined his fingers with hers, Eponine's heart leapt into her throat and a smile spread across her face. The crowd was forgotten briefly just so she could memorize the feel of his hand in hers. "Of course. Follow me!" And just as quickly she focused on finding an escape route. Getting her bearings, she was pretty she there was an entrance to the catacombs below the city nearby. "Mylene!" She shouted to her friend in the crowd and pointed in direction of the entrance, hoping she would know the exact location. Not stopping to make sure she had been heard she turned to Marius. "This way!" Without a second thought, she curled her fingers tighter around Marius's hand and pulled him between the fleeing peasants. Despite the fear welling up in her, Eponine relished the feeling of having Marius near her and all to herself. She just prayed they could find a safe way out of the line of fire.

[Deleted]

Combeferre had chosen to go without his glasses for the torchlight ceremony—for once he would not try to sneak a book in with him, only because he doubted he would get a chance to read it. He had been hesitant to attend the ceremony because he was not exactly keen on mass celebrations in general, let alone one organized in honor of the king. May Day had come and gone like any other day for Combeferre. Because he did not have any classes, he had stayed in his flat and read Hobbes, then Locke, then Hobbes again before taking a long walk and finally returning to his flat again to ready himself for tonight’s festivities.

He knew what Enjolras and the others had planned, and although he had agreed to it, he was wary. The National Guard would not take kindly to a protest—they never did. He also knew that protesting was the only way to get people’s attention. What he did not know was whether or not a protest that started peacefully would remain that way. He wanted to speak out against injustice—of course he did—he wanted a better France, a liberated France just as much as his friends did, but he also did not want to antagonize the monarchists and the military. If a full scale riot broke out, innocent bystanders who knew nothing of their plan could be hurt or killed should the authorities react violently. In that case, he supposed it would not be their fault, but he would feel guilty if things went that far.

So Combeferre had decided to show up to make sure things did not get too heated, too fast. His friends called him ‘the guide’ because of his preoccupation with the moral implications of everything they did. He thought that it was important for them to appear innocent in the eyes of the public, otherwise their ideas would crumble down around them, and the people would no doubt reject them. His reasons for being so constantly careful were not limited to preserving the integrity of the revolution—he thought that it was their duty to not only appear, but to be morally superior to their enemy, the government. If they were truly friends of the abased, the downtrodden, then was it not natural for them to work in their interest every day and not just in rallies or protests? Was it not natural for them to care for their fellow man? The abased did not want blood, they wanted peace. If innocent lives were lost today, then peace would be a long way off.

“Vive la France!” he cheered a few times once the shouting started. He held his torch aloft, illuminating his unreadable face as his sapphire eyes observed all the goings-on of the parade. He had been standing behind Enjolras initially, but now he stood unassumingly by himself. Out of nowhere a brawl started between a violent bunch of criminals and the gypsies—but the gypsies had not started it. He wanted to do something, to stop this madness. He was thrown off balance as people tried to run past him, and he disentangled himself from the crowd. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Enjolras was one step ahead of him. His eyes flickered to him briefly as he spoke, a slight smile forming on his face, impressed at how skillful and rational his appeal to reason was. His attention was seized by the people’s reactions to the speech. His heart sank when he realized that the fight would not stop. His eyes scanned the crowd and then widened when he saw Courfeyrac trying to pull Mylene out of a confrontation. He stepped forward, but was distracted when Enjolras resumed speaking, and then jumped when he saw that he had almost been punched by one of the gang members. They needed to get out of here before this escalated any further. Could this day possibly get any worse?

It’s worse, he mused, flinching at the horrible sound of gunfire that had originated from the National Guard. A blood-curdling scream rang out and the philosopher’s head whipped around, some of his blonde locks falling into his eyes. He pushed his way through the crowd so he could see what had happened, who had fallen—a gypsy woman had been killed by the bullets of the monarchy. There were few things that got Combeferre angry. There were plenty of things that brought him annoyance—such as the one time Courfeyrac had burnt his charter—but he rarely lost his temper. This was one of those exceptional times. “She’s innocent…” he muttered, distraught. “Y-you killed an innocent woman! Murderers!” he roared, his flaxen eyebrows knitting together in fury. This was a fight they could not win—not now—and his friends realized that. Enjolras had already given the order to retreat. He glared upon the remorseless faces of the National Guard once more before tearing his eyes away and doing as his friend and chief had asked, backing away from the crowd and taking off running. He extinguished his torch in a barrel of water that he passed by in the middle of his flight and looked around for a familiar face. Enjolras was gone…but there was Feuilly—why was he just standing there? He rushed over to him and clasped his arm. “Hurry, my friend, I fear things will only get worse if we linger here any longer…” His blue eyes browsed the area as his mind tried to calculate the best escape route. His blue orbs fell upon Marius and a dark-haired girl who frequented the café—why couldn’t he remember her name right now? “They seem to have the right idea—come on!”

[maximiliennoelvier]

When Cossete pointed out to Max the uniformed men as she called them Max could tell things would be getting a whole lot worse and fast. It was the National Guard and while they were supposed to be keeping the peace he had heard they were getting agitated and rather trigger happy of late, so he would not be surprised if they started firing. He just hoped not. He nodded to Cossette and her father and decided it might be best for him to find a way out come up with a plan, because well things were just going to get worse.

Shots had rang out and it just sounded like normal warning shots, Max turned quickly someone had been shout the cry was quickly taken up, the women was innocent and he had..... Died? At this max was not sure what to think he wanted to do or say something but to be honest he felt sick, and he would rather make sure he could get out Safely, but how and where to. He was thinking in making his way through a ltille cap in the crowd that had begun to move but instead he noticed one of the Amis Combeferre was talking to Feuilly and well there was Marius and that was Eponine he believed. Either way he believed it was best to go follow them plus he might be able to get more information, either way he already has something but they were a way out as well. Either way he rushed over to where Combeferre was deciding it was best to follow him.



(Bah this is how bad my muse is)

[LA MORT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 340px; background-image:url(http://i56.tinypic.com/20gfl1v.jpg); padding: 30px; border: #2D2729 solid 30px; ] THE EVENT! GROUP THREAD! THIS THREAD IS NOW CLOSED. THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING! MAY DAY!

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TEMPLATE BY TRINITY BLAIR @ CAUTION 2.0 & ATF

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