One day more| Open

[azelma]

Her day had started early she hadn’t been able to sleep that night there was something that was making her restless and she was really sure what it was. The tattered dress hung about the slim frame nothing really fit properly anymore, well apart from whatever clothing her father stole for himself. Azelma looking at the dirty piece of cloth tied around her right hand. She had seen the same scene more times that she cared to count, this time it had been another window why she always ended up putting her hands through them while the others just stood there she didn’t know.

Her father had told her to get out that morning apparently he had some business to sort out and she was in the way, so now she was just wandering her bare feet making no sound on the cobbled pavement and road. She sometimes wished she was more like her sister at least Eponine had friends here and there she struggled even to make friends. It was times like these when she wished she was someone else someone brave then she remembered that Imagination was childish. Everything she loved was apparently childish but stealing was a crime and wrong so why was having an imagination so bad?

Her grey eyes flicking around the busy square as she walked, her stomach didn’t grumble anymore when she was hungry, it didn’t bother her much now. She was used to being on her own but company was always welcomed, more so now when she was just wandering. She felt useless and a complete waste of space sometimes, but she needed them. Azelma had always been the type of person who needed taking care of it was just her nature. She was too sweet to stick up for herself often thinking that she would hurt the other person.

Azelma rested her back against the nearest building the rough stones pushing against her skin. Time to just watch the day fly by until she could return to her home or at least return to work if that’s what her father had in mind.

[Deleted]

Valjean would prefer to keep himself to himself, to remain close to the convent, close to home. Where it was safe and secret and sacred. However, he came here every once. Sometimes, he was able to gather information about the goings-on of the city; the underworld, perhaps, was more informed than Parisian officials, for they had more incentive to know than did a distant officer. Their lives depended on what they could steal, while the soldiers could steal without knowing anything - they had only to wave their gun. Valjean was no revolutionary, but he certainly remembered the pangs of hunger. He liked order, but at what cost?

More often than not, he was accosted by some beggar or another when he came down to these streets to listen to the chattering of gossips. He could see his nephew in the wan faces, the glazed eyes. How could he remain aloof? These little boys were nephews of someone too. But perhaps someone dead, or someone who did not care. He did not wish to feel responsibility for them, but he could hardly help it. God had helped him, and he had been blessed in order to be a blessing to others.

All the same, he would rather give something than have it taken from him. His hands closed over the warm sous in his pocket as his eyes roamed the busy streets. They fell upon a girl - please God, not a prostitute, he could hardly bear it... but no, just a thief, he knew what the cloth around her hand was for. "These streets are not safe, mademoiselle," he said in a low voice, offering some coins with the advice, doubting she would take one without the other. "This should be more than what you could get in a day." He did not mean to insult her, because perhaps she would get more than that from stealing if she was skillful, but he had been generous. "Please. Take heed." He had heard it said that something was going to happen soon, and when it did, there would be no standing about here, not safely in any case.

[azelma]

Azelma pressed her lips together as she watched the world go by, part of her wished she had else where to go somewhere that was safe and free. She loved her parents more so her father but it was never enough she wasn’t bold like her brother or brave like her sister she was just herself, weak Azelma the girl who didn’t have a backbone who always wanted to please no matter what happened her hand was proof enough of that it hurt her that she was obviously disposable if it became important enough that someone needed to be left behind she knew it would be her.

She spent her days out here letting herself forget everything she needed to it was her place where she could come and just let her imagination go for once, she could dream without being disturbed or she could just watch the picture others gave of their lives. Azelma missed her old life the one where she could do as she wished more than often and one where she didn’t have to steal to survive she didn’t have to break the law.

Azelma glanced around her eyes never staying on one person long enough to pick up a clear picture of that person. She was just going to stand here, shifting ever so slightly now and again that was until she heard footsteps walking towards her, she glanced up at the voice her eyes resting on the coins in his hand “monsieur no where’s safe.” The brunette sighed and leant back against the wall again her eyes resting on him taking in everything about him. Yet she didn’t remove the coins from his hand. Azelma knew she was a thief but she didn’t like doing it at all it just made everything seem wrong and that’s what it was.

To everyone the Thendardier’s were a family of rotten cheats and liars who stole for their own gain and yes it was true about their parents but it certainly wasn’t true of Azelma all she wanted was a good life and one that wasn’t breaking the Law.

[Deleted]

The girl's hungry eyes unnerved him. Valjean had once been an important man, the owner of a factory and the mayor of a town. There had always been people watching him, but he had never grown accustomed to it - he had never become comfortable with it. It had been unwise to draw attention to himself, whether by saving the fire chief's children, saving the life of the old man beneath the cart, saving Fantine's life, or even offering this girl a few sous. People who did not keep their heads down and leave things be, they stood out, and they endangered themselves. To love was to be vulnerable; Valjean knew this better than anyone. But he could not stand back from these people, not even to protect himself. He shuddered to think that had Javert captured him those nine years ago, had he not rescued Cosette, she would likely be just like this girl, wandering the streets for scraps. If she were still alive.

"No," he agreed grimly, "it is not safe anywhere here." He had no idea, yet, that this girl was in fact a Thenardier, the daughter of the couple from whom Valjean had taken Cosette - the two girls had been raised together. If he had known, he would have been all the more intent upon helping her. Still, some people did not like handouts. He could understand. "Take them," he said, very gently. "I'm giving them to you. To help you towards a better life and an honest living." He leaned down just a little, not patronizingly, but so that his tall frame wouldn't prevent him from meeting her gaze. "Someone did the same for me once." He could share no more about that, lest he be suspected. "The convent, mademoiselle - it is the safest place in this city. Go there. They will help you.". In the same way that he had been helped once by a member of the clergy, for which he would be forever grateful. The least that he could do was attempt to pay it forward. Still, he had some doubts that this girl would listen; these street children knew how to take care of themselves, and who was he to them to be offering any kind of counsel? He was only a stranger, but a kind one.

[azelma]

Azelma watched him her grey eyes drinking in his appearance her eyes snapped back to his hand as he spoke again “Non monsieur, no matter what I do my life will never be honest nor will my living be” it was true her parents were not the honest type they never had been it was just the way that things tended to happen at least in the Thénardier family, they told what to do it and she done it. Azelma looked up at him meeting his gaze. She couldn’t help but laugh “I’m beyond anyone’s Monsieur I’m a Thénardier, I’ve sinned too much to ever be forgiven” Azelma flicked her eyes around she remembered her father’s inn and not having too much.

The Brunette looked at the tall man “Why would you want to help me?” The young girl was used to be chased by the police inspector , being hit by her father and being insulted by most of the people she met it was odd for her to even have a conversation or at least what you would class this as. Azelma sighed and tugged at the piece of cloth that was tied around her hand, she had forgotten how many times she’d done it but it didn’t mean that she liked doing it. It felt wrong and so did lying. “I do not want your money.”

Azelma ran her fingers in her hair, her messy brown curly matted hair, she missed feeling good about herself it was something that had always made her feel better but right now she just felt bad about everything her father had been in a foul mood for the entire week and some of that was due to Eponine’s disrespect of him and how she refused to do as she was told. Azelma always done what she told but that didn’t mean that her parents loved her more than her sister to them Eponine was still better than her she always would be.

[Deleted]

It was, he had to admit, something of a surprise that the girl was talking to him at all. In his experience, poverty sometimes led people to dehumanize themselves, or perhaps they had already lost their pride because of what had happened to them. If he spoke to them, sometimes they would ignore him entirely, because they did not want to admit that he had helped them - did not want to admit that they needed help. But they did need it, even if it was not their own fault.

"I cannot agree with you on that," he said softly, when she said that she could not change her life. "That you were born to this life is not your fault, but you need not stay in it." He wanted to tell her that she could leave the life of crime, just as he had done. But in truth, he had not entirely left it, in some sense, because he'd had to lie to get out of it. He'd had to do one bad thing in order to free himself up to do all of the good things. And that was the contradiction; that was why there could not be only law, there had to be mercy as well. At some point, every man and woman sinned. And the God who had created them in love would not condemn them to Hell; no, He wanted a relationship with them, and Jesus had died to pay the penalty and have them forgiven and reconciled.

He flinched as the girl laughed bitterly, the fullness of the truth that she was a Thenardier dawning on him. "No," he said adamantly, his dark eyes intent on her face. "You are never beyond forgiveness, my child. Do not say such things, or evil has triumphed." It would not. He would not let it. His hand fisted in frustration, though it was still holding the coins, and he still wished for her to have them. Her parents' misdeeds were not something for which she should be punished. He knew that she must long for freedom - but if she felt helpless, why would she not take the aid?

Because she could not believe why he wanted to help her? His brows furrowed in his wrinkled forehead. "Because you are a human soul," he replied, aghast. "I have money and you do not. I do not need these sous, and you do. Is that not reason enough?" He could not tell her why he was as invested as he was; that he had once been in her shoes. With renewed resolve, he thrust out his open hand - only to hear her say that she did not want his money. He swallowed an exasperated sigh. "If you will not take aid, at least take care," he insisted. "The police are on high alert, and in this heat, men's blood is close to boiling." He took her uninjured hand and pressed the coins into it before turning - let her drop the coins or throw them back at him if she would.

[azelma]

Azelma wasn’t the most talkative person usually it was something that was dangerous when she spoke to the wrong person, however Azelma was trying to change slightly she wanted to have her own voice and she needed too, she was the girl who didn’t do anything for herself it was just the way that her brain seemed to work and that didn’t seem a hundred percent correct. “Monsieur I was not asking you to agree with me , I was stating a fact” Azelma wanted to laugh at the gentleman’s next comment “I wasn’t born to this we used to be comfortable, I have no choice to what I do with my life” It was true Azelma was used to being the girl who did what she was told when she was told if she was told to jump she asked how high it was just the way that she was taught to do things, her father would make her life hell if she said no to him.

Azelma sighed and glanced at her hands before looking back at the gentleman her grey eyes resting on his dark ones “Evil...My father Is Evil and he holds the strings” Azelma knew it sounded like a Riddle but she didn’t know how else to explain it as far as she was concerned she was passed saving she was a thief and she always would be if her parents had their way about it. Azelma wasn’t the type of person who was willing to accept help or help herself she didn’t know how to. She was the perfect picture of a thief now her parents had made her that way and she was just going to keep pleasing them until they let her go.

“I don’t take money from people unless I’m told too, who wants charity” Azelma sighed and lent back against the wall. “I always take care monsieur, I know the police are on high alert I almost got caught yesterday” Azelma’s grey eyes narrowed as he pressed the coins into her hand she walked around to face him and dropped them in front of him “all of you people who think we want your charity insult us, I may be a Thief but I don’t throw what I have.”

[Deleted]

Though Valjean was a little surprised by how rude the girl was being, he could not blame her. He knew what it was like to be poor and starving; manners were the least of his concerns then. So he just turned the other cheek at the girl's scathing response. "Very well," he said simply, before she continued. That was right... when he had first met the Thenardiers, they had been less desperate than they were now. He had not seen their daughter Eponine, nor had Cosette spoken of her much, but he did know that the Thenardiers had treated their children much more kindly than they had Cosette. That was confirmed by Azelma's words. Still, they disturbed him. "There is always a choice," he insisted, brows furrowing.

She would not believe him. As far as she knew, he was just an ignorant gentleman who had never known hardship and was coming in to make her feel inadequate. "Then why do you stay?" Valjean whispered, shaking his head. She had already been trained as a thief; she didn't need Thenardier. But he knew the truth - there were no honest livings to be had. God forbid she turn out like Fantine. He was glad, terribly glad, that he had rescued Cosette from the Thenardiers before she, too, became bitter and cynical like this. If only someone had done the same for this girl! "If you wish to change your circumstances, you can. I have known one that did."

He could not reveal his or Cosette's identity and have it reported to Thenardier; the man resented Valjean for not "paying enough for Cosette" and acted like he had kidnapped her. He wished he could help this girl, but Cosette was his priority.

He was dumbfounded by her resistance."I'm telling you to," he pointed out, though clearly she didn't respect him. "The starving of this city take charity. Forgive me, mademoiselle, if I am mistaken in thinking you among them. I am certain your pride is more gratified in stealing." He glanced down at the coins at his feet; if she did not take them, someone else would. "It is not an insult - it could be one step in helping you do the rest to change your life." Like his candlesticks. Shaking his head, he could only tip his hat to her. "Good day, Mademoiselle Thenardier, and God bless you."

[azelma]

Azelma watched the man her eyes flicking over him she knew she sounded rude but Aze didn’t know what to say much these days. Azelma was used to her parents being rude to her but she just lived through it. Always had lived through it and would continue to “You don’t know them, I have no choice” she frowned and bit her lip. It was true she didn’t have the strength to say no to her parents never had.

Azelma wished her life was better she wished her mother still showed the care she had when the young girl was a child she had known love of a parent now she just wasn’t so sure “i have nowhere else to go, I’m weak and won’t break ties” it was true she was and she didn’t know how to change that. “They must have been brave then monsieur” Azelma wished she was sometimes she knew her sister was trying to make her grow a bit but she was still scared of doing it.

The brunette just frowned as he spoke “If I take that, I’ll be asked where I got if and something worse will happen, you don’t want that” she looked at him a faction of a smile on her lips “ it just seems like one even if you don’t think it is. “ the young girl sighed and shifted her weight slightly, she knew the gentleman was just trying to do something for her and she respected that he wanted to help her but they all seemed to think it was simple and getting out of the life was as easy as could be Aze just wished it was.

She was used to the bare feet the insults the natural way in which she came last and of course the constant grumble of her empty stomach. She knew that one day she would just cease to exist and sadly the young girl was okay with that she just wished she could find her strength before that time came she was scared of being weak all her life.

[Deleted]

It was taking all of Valjean's very strong will not to tell this Thenardier girl that he did, indeed, know her parents. Or at least he had met them once, but they had made themselves known enough to him with what they had tried in those few moments of interaction. They had tried to get him to pay more for Cosette, as if they really had any desire to keep her. He knew well enough from her bruises and from her fearful nature that they had been unkind to her.

Yes, he could see that the Thenardiers were unkind people, even controlling – but that did not mean that Azelma should not get away from them, it meant that she really ought to do so. He pressed his lips together and exhaled heavily through his nose. Arguing would do him no good, it seemed. “Well. If you decide otherwise, I am certain you can find someone who will help you.” It was clear that her parents had been very controlling if she knew no where else in the city to go, not even the convent... yet she was attached to them so that she would not leave.

“He was not as brave as you might think,” he said quietly, when she said that the man he knew – himself – who had left behind his past must have been courageous. “He only had God's help to make him strong.” And of course bravery was doing something in spite of fear, not in the lack of it.

Her parents asked where the money came from? That sounded rather unlike them. He thought that they would just take the money without worrying about it. It wasn't like they had any scruples or shame, since they encouraged their daughter to steal. But Azelma was right, he would rather not have people ask questions about them. Still... as much as he wanted to protect himself, how could he just leave her, knowing there was something that he could have done? She would not take the money, fine. But he would leave it there for someone else, in any case. Perhaps at least they would be able to change their fortune.

"You will not let me help you, will I?" he asked quietly, sighing softly and starting to move away. Perhaps he ought to focus on keeping his own daughter, the one person he had been able to rescue, safe...