World: Paris
Scene: Rue de la Chanvrerie, June 5th, 1832.
Players: Enjolras = Leila; Gavroche = Laura; Javert = Dessa; Grantaire, Prouvaire = Abby; Jaden = SJ; Marie = Marie's typist whose name eludes me
With wavy brown hair caught back with a bit of red ribbon in a tail and hazel eyes glinting with the ideals of youth, Enjolras cuts a clean, quite comely picture. His white shirt-tail is tucked neatly into bronze slacks, though his cuffs are rolled up to the elbow. Slick tan boots and a red and black flag tied about his waist only serve to accentuate his lean, lanky figure.
Gavroche: Short tough kid, like Peter Pan but without the fairy dust. Warning: he bites.
Javert: Guy. Tall. Sideburns. Rebel clothes. Fooling anyone? Nooo.... He is, in fact, tied to a post at the moment.
Grantaire is tall but slightly built, his dark hair always a bit tousled, his clothing always a bit rumpled; a melancholy young man in the main, though seeming friendly enough. He is woefully homely, but his brown eyes, though constantly bleary, have a gentle, earnest look. He is at the moment in his shirtsleeves, the cuffs rolled up a bit; his trousers are a little frayed, boots a little scuffed, his whole air a gaily disreputable one, were it not for his expression, which speaks of sardonic humor, and the eyes, which speak of sorrow.
Marie is a nun. She's dressed drably as befits her. There's not a lot to say about nuns as they all pretty much look the same.
Jean Prouvaire is a slight young man of perhaps twenty-two, with light brown hair a little overlong, so that it straggles occasionally into soft grey eyes. His shirt is open at the neck in deference to the summer heat; despite this he has a diffident air.
With eyes of tranquil amethyst sparkling with warmth and happiness, Jaden is a pretty young man by all accounts, soft and fair of feature. Those startling eyes are framed in a pale oval of a face with a slim little nose and thin but sensuous lips, their thick lashes furthering the air of femininity about him. His eyes spend much of the day concealed behind a wave of lustrous raven hair, his bangs being significantly longer than the rest of his close-cropped mane. A thin hoop of gold set with a small, dangling amethyst adorns his left ear. He wears a lace trimmed silk shirt complete with ruffled cuffs and collar, beneath a peacock-green vest, cinched closed at the waist by a couple gilt buttons. Peacock green pants are tucked neatly into heeled black leather boots which give him an much needed extra inch or two of height.
Gavroche looks warily at Javert. "Are you sure those knots will hold?"
Grantaire glances over his shoulder. "They'd better."
Gavroche says, "Did you tie them yourself?"
Javert scowls at the little gutter brat.
Gavroche scowls right back (not so impressive as he is sideburn-free, but the grime makes really nifty shadows).
Prouvaire says absent-mindedly, "Feuilly did. --Hadn't you better go home, little one?"
Gavroche waves vaguely at the streets. "I am."
Enjolras drops several pellets into a rifle systematically, occasionally glancing up at the conversation, only because it's interrupting his concentration.
Prouvaire runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. "You know what I mean."
Javert glances skyward briefly, and mumbles, "Let him stay, if he cares to, and be killed, like the rest of us."
Marie stands around watching the men. She moistens her lips watching them work.
Gavroche says, "You need me, don't you?"
Grantaire waves a hand at Prouvaire, then frowns as Javert, no less, echoes his own opinion.
Gavroche says, "I'm small. There's not that much of me to hit."
Enjolras calls out to the prisoner without acknowledging him with a glance, "Quiet in the corner, monsieur."
Prouvaire pauses. That's a trick question, isn't it? He frowns at Gavroche, and then, catching sight of the nun, frowns at her too, but lets it alone for now.
Javert is about to remind Enjolras that if he wants him silenced, then he might as well kill him now, but he just sighs and does not pursue the topic further.
Gavroche walks over to Javert and takes off his police shoes.
Grantaire contents himself with scowling at the prisoner, and clambers out of his chair so as not to have to sit next to the so-and-so. Another blow for the republic.
Javert stares oddly at the child.
Marie jumps backward as if she had just come face to face with a tiger in the dark.
Enjolras finishes loading one rifle, only to begin directly on another. "Gavroche," he warns, "leave him be or I'll have him," with a brief look to Grantaire, "take you home by the ear."
Gavroche gives Javert his best approximation of an innocent grin. "I'd like to see him try to find his own ear, let alone mine."
Grantaire brightens a little at the prospect of doing something, then snorts and swats at the child. "Very funny."
Gavroche dodges. "Wasn't it?"
Enjolras doesn't so much as crack a smile. "Gavroche," he warns again, quietly, dropping a handful of pellets inside the rifle.
Gavroche sits down with a very sincere pout, far enough from the shoeless Javert to be out of kicking range, but silent. For now.
Prouvaire rakes a hand through his hair, looking a little apprehensive.
"Prouvaire," Enjolras motions him over with a rifle butt. "Start fixing the bayonets on every third gun."
Gavroche says, "Do you want me to look in the boarding house for anything to build the barricades more?"
Grantaire casts a rueful look at Enjolras, and then, since he isn't as steady on his feet as he'd like to think he is, sits down next to Gavroche.
Marie's stopped leering at the men to try to look innocent and pure. She eyes the guns, before dropping to her knees and praying for lots of death and destruction to the Monarchists.
Gavroche nudges Grantaire. "Should we help the sister pray?"
Prouvaire gives the sister a quizzical look. Then starts. "Ah-- Right." And goes to do that.
Enjolras sighs to himself. How is one supposed to lead a revolt in these conditions? "Quiet the sister, Gavroche, then you may look through."
Grantaire merely snorts at this suggestion on Gavroche's part.
Gavroche smiles. He stands, touches the sister on the shoulder, says, "Ma'am, you're distracting the leader of the revolution. That's bad," and darts away into the boarding house.
Grantaire stifles another snort. "Isn't he helpful."
Javert, in any event, looks a bit better once this child has left the vicinity. Gutter brat.
Gavroche comes back, dragging two chairs behind him.
Marie gives one last plea to God to smite the King with boils and pox, before stopping to look at the men.
Enjolras chooses to ignore the child and haul a box of gunpowder up on the worktable instead. "You," he refers to Grantaire, "be useful and help the child."
Gavroche says, "I don't need help from him."
Grantaire protests as the chair goes by, "I was using that--" and breaks off, glancing to Enjolras. After a moment he climbs to his feet again, aiming a cuff at Gavroche's ear. "Shut up. I'm helping you."
"Ouch. So help, then." Gavroche shoves a chair in Grantaire's general direction, and a scowl.
Grantaire stumbles a little. "I am," he says with dignity, and hauls the silly thing over to the silly barricade.
Enjolras directs patiently to Gavroche and Grantaire, "Quiet and peaceably or you're on your way. -- Both of you."
Grantaire protests again, "I am."
Gavroche, for once, behaves his little urchin self and just does it right.
Javert looks a little incredulous at the word "peaceably" from this man.
Prouvaire just shakes his head, working at his assigned task and looking vaguely worried.
Enjolras calls, "You, old man," to Valjean, "see that the barricade is sturdy on the left side."
Gavroche sits down again to be quiet for the next three seconds or so.
Prouvaire sighs quietly. Enjolras is so... blunt. He casts the stranger a hesitant smile.
Marie sits on her legs, trying to think of some other way she can help these delicious looking men.
Grantaire wedges the chair in place with something of an ill grace, maintaining his wry look.
Valjean nods to Enjolras, heading over and assisting, keeping alert.
During a quiet moment, the old man might feel a cold familiar gaze upon the back of his head...
Gavroche gets up, rechecks his chair placement, and incidentally and coincidentally gives Grantaire a little shove along the way. "Look, that old man is civil. Why can't you be?"
Valjean glances down at the brat, slightly resenting being called an old man. All those wasted years...
Grantaire makes a grab for Gavroche's tattered collar. "Infant, do not lecture me. I have not allowed myself to be corralled into a bloody revolution to be lectured by a twelve-year-old with no shoes."
Enjolras casts a stern look to Grantaire. "Either be useful or get out. I won't have you cluttering up any more space if you only expect to stagger about and nuisance those working."
Gavroche gloats. Quietly.
Prouvaire winces slightly. "Wonderful," he murmurs, sharply for Prouvaire. "We'll all just fight with each other and save the army the trouble."
Gavroche would feel mildly guilty, but there's no space in his mind.
Valjean looks around for the man Cosette loves. Where could he be?
Enjolras orders Prouvaire simply, "Finish those bayonets or there will be no fight at all."
Grantaire, pallid, releases Gavroche wordlessly and crosses to help the white-haired stranger. Only staggering a little.
Gavroche says, "R, I think I saw a pot of coffee in that boarding house. Do you want it?"
Prouvaire flushes, ducks his head, and does as he's bid.
Grantaire says sourly, "Very amusing. Very, very amusing, gamin."
Enjolras doesn't answer Gavroche; only walks past him to acquire more pellets and rifles.
Gavroche mutters, "I try to help, I get no thanks," then raises his voice. "Enjolras, do you have enough bullets?"
Prouvaire finishes what he's doing and gets to his feet, pushing a hand through his hair again.
Marie tries to find something to keep her hands busy while she watches the men. She clutches her rosary and idly plays with it.
Enjolras murmurs distractly to Gavroche. "We'll run out quickly. We haven't enough ammunition. Who was supposed to buy it all?" He casts a dark eye on Grantaire, even though he'd never trust him with the task.
Grantaire hesitates, then abandons the barricade for the moment, going to lay a hand on the nun's shoulder.
Marie looks up to Grantaire, her eyes brighten, "What can I do for you?"
Prouvaire says distractedly, "Piecemeal. Courfeyrac brought most of it. --Why?" He may be a little absent minded, but he knows Gavroche's tricks.
Gavroche looks around at the muddle of people behind the insufficient barricade, then slips over it and goes for a dance between bullets to pick up what he can.
Grantaire says very gently, "Go home, sister. It's all very noble of you to be here, but you'll do better to go."
Enjolras scowls as he pores over the pellets. "We haven't enough to fight off pigeons, let alone the king's army."
Jaden wanders out of the boarding house, and blinks at the sight before him. Where did all this wood and such come from.
Gavroche darts back in (unnoticed?) and gives Enjolras two handfuls of bullets.
Marie licks her lips and looks to Grantaire. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help...? Pray for Javert's soul? Anything?"
Prouvaire notices. "Gavroche!" he expostulates.
Jean Valjean ponders Javert.
Gavroche says, "What?" and he says it innocently.
Enjolras swings around to Gavroche. "Did you go out past the barricade?" severely.
Grantaire gives her a very gentle push. "Excellent. Wonderful. But pray for him somewhere else." He lowers his voice.
Gavroche says, "Yes but I was fine and you needed me to and I'm not hurt and now you have more bullets."
If Javert stared any harder at Valjean, his gaze would begin boring holes in him.
Jean Valjean scans the rooftops suspiciously.
Prouvaire catches sight of Jaden then, and gives him an awkward smile from across the street. Another recruit... in a silk shirt.
Marie walks over to Javert and curtsies nicely, ignoring that part of Grantaire's statements. "Would you like me to pray for your soul?"
A sniper appears on a rooftop nearby, aiming at Enjolras.
Jaden looks utterly befuddled. That's the French, always fighting over something. He scans the people with wide eyes.
Enjolras glowers at Gavroche. "We have no use for you dead, enfant. Either you stay here or we send you with the women."
Javert appears a bit surprised, and his eyes finally leave Valjean. He stares up, not understanding, to the nun, then says, "What need have I of such services?"
Gavroche says, "But I was being useful."
Grantaire sighs. Not only a nun, but a stubborn nun, and not only stubborn but apparently simple-minded. He looks away, only to catch sight of Jaden, and buries his face in his hands.
Jean Valjean spots the sniper. He had prearranged this whole thing anyway. He quickly grabs a rifle, yelling at Enjolras, "Down!" He aims at the sniper and BAM he's down.
Gavroche looks at the 'old man' and then at the rooftop, and then at Enjolras.
Prouvaire jumps six inches in the air. "What in the--"
Enjolras picks up his rifle once again, checking for anything blocking the nozzle. "You were being a nuisance, like your friend," referring to Grantaire, only to shout, "Sweet Mary, Mother of God, man!"
Marie smiles nicely to the man tied up, "Oh, you know, you're being on the wrong side's bound to get you killed pretty soon. I thought if I prayed for your soul you might switch sides."
Javert looks up swiftly at the shot, only to see where it came from, and where it was headed, and mumble, "It figures."
Grantaire looks up sharply at the shot with an automatic curse.
Marie admires things about Javert which many would not consider at all related to his soul.
Javert raises his voice to a hearable level again, "I have no intention of "switching sides", sister, and I shall die here, but I shall die loyal to the King!"
Gavroche takes Javert's boots. Both of them. And puts them on his own grubby little gamin feet.
Jean Valjean watches the urchin's antics and wishes he'd go out and fetch more bullets.
Javert snorts. "Great. Another Caligula in the making."
Grantaire glances swiftly at Enjolras; then, as the latter appears to be alive and well, breathes again, and with a last worried look crosses to Jaden.
Enjolras stares at Valjean. "Do you mean to start a battle before we're ready, old man? Did you see what colors he wore?"
Marie thinks about what Javert said, while eyeing him delicately. "Are you sure you won't switch sides?"
Jean Valjean throws the rifle down at Enjolras' feet. "He aimed at you. Did you want to wait until he shot?"
Gavroche says, "I might be Cally-gullah, but I won't ever support the king!"
Jaden decides pressing his back against the wall is a good thing, as people start shooting. "Bloody hell!" He turns his wide eyes on Grantaire as he comes over. "Are you all right?" Stupid question.
Javert stares up oddly at Marie. "Yes. Sure. Positive. Go away."
Grantaire reaches for Jaden's arm. "Oh, I'm doing beautifully well, I'm one man among fifty lunatics, I'm piling up chairs when I could be safely holed up with a lady I know of in perfect safety and bliss, and now you're in the middle of it too, I'm quite fine!"
Enjolras regards Valjean coolly. "I thank you for saving my life, but you need not threaten it once again by tossing the pistols around like a child's toy. Now keep an eye for any more and warn us next time before you shoot, oui, old man?"
Gavroche pops up beside Grantaire, "Speaking of chairs, why don't we get a few more?"
Jaden inquires of Grantaire, as he takes hold of him, "Wouldn't tables be better than chairs if people are shooting? Less spaces to shoot though."
Gavroche says, "Well, then help us carry some out."
Marie smiles to herself, thinking Javert told her to go ahead and pray for him. She gets down on her knees in front him - in a near worshipful position - and prays for Jav.
Grantaire throws up his free hand. "Oh, you're full of bright ideas, mon ami."
Jaden blinks at Gavroche. "But... won't Madam mind us taking her tables?"
Marius looks around, seemingly in a trance.
Gavroche says, "Let her stop us."
Enjolras calls out above the banter, "Men! Less talking and more working! Build the barricade, don't discuss building it!"
Javert scowls and tries to ignore this woman.
Prouvaire meanwhile has ensconced himself at one end of the barricade, keeping lookout. He pushes a hand through his hair once more, and shakes his head.
Gavroche walks into the boarding house after glaring at Grantaire and Jaden.
Marius adjusts his clothing. Gotta look spiffy for the fight, you know.
Jaden casts a bewildered look up at Grantaire. "What's going on?" he questions in a pleading tone.
From inside the boarding house come scraping noises, as if a small boy was trying to move a huge table alone.
Enjolras asks irritatedly of Prouvaire, "How is one supposed to lead a revolt against such a kingdom as France without cooperation from ten men?"
Grantaire fairly roars, "What's going on! God preserve me, boy--" and then, through the boarding-house door, "Gamin, use a little judgment, will you?"
Javert looks around, trying to ignore various people. His eyes finally rest on Marius, and he thinks, half-aloud, "Is that not the doltish lawyer who became frightened and ran away?"
Gavroche says, "Your little friend wanted tables but he won't help me!"
Prouvaire shakes his head ruefully at Enjolras, and then, glancing past him, catches sight of Marius and waves.
Marius smiles at Prouvaire, scanning around for something useful to do. And finding none, begins to daydream.
Enjolras follows Prouvaire's gaze and shouts, "Marius! Come here and give out a gun and a pocket of bullets to each man."
Jaden cringes as Grantaire bellows at him, and pulls away from him, jaw a-tremble. "No need to be nasty," he retorts, then turns and heads inside to help with the table. Not that he knows why.
Grantaire retorts, "My little friend hasn't got as much sense as you, and that's going some. --Jaden," mangling the name as usual, "listen to me. This is not a good idea."
Marius smiles at Enjolras. "Certainly," he mutters, humming a song to himself.
Gavroche considers kicking Grantaire in the shin, but forgoes the pleasure to make a point by hauling on the table again.
Enjolras aims to clap Marius on the back. "Look alive, man. This is a war, not a tea party."
Jaden grabs hold of the table and yanks, not that it really helps all that terribly much. It does move some, though.
Prouvaire chuckles a bit. "Where have you been?" he inquires, sotto voce, of Marius.
Marius smiles at the gesture. "Right-O." He grabs some guns and begins to pass them out. Skipping Grantaire and Gavroche, of course.
Gavroche glares at Grantaire. "And would you help us, monsieur?"
Grantaire buries his face in his hands again briefly. Insane. All of them, insane. He goes to help Jaden and Gavroche with the table.
Marie finishes her prayer for Javert and scoots to the side, sitting on the floor to watch the men again. She sighs to herself when she realizes they're all busy except for the one who's all tied up and no fun.
Marius hands a rifle to Prouvaire. "I can die a happy man, for I have found true love."
Prouvaire looks blankly at Marius. "At a time like this?"
Enjolras leans his head into his hand a moment. "Imbeciles. I am working with inebriates, imbeciles, and infants."
Courfeyrac reaches out to give Enjolras a pat on the shoulder and a friendly wink en passant. "Courage."
Gavroche appears at the doorway of the boarding house with some table.
Enjolras casts Courfeyrac a sideways look. "You cannot fight a battle on courage alone. -- Men! Your attention!"
Marius smirks at Prouvaire. "At least I won't die a virgin."
Gavroche hops up onto the bit of table that's sticking out of the door to listen, and dangles his feet.
Jean Valjean scans the rooftops, hoping that his sniper that pretended to die will pop up again, since the stunt didn't serve its intended purpose.
Grantaire leans on the table. And gives his attention. Patiently.
Javert watches the scene, not quite so angrily as of now, more passively.
Prouvaire shakes his head slightly at Marius, and looks up.
Jaden peers around the doorjam and Grantaire, wide eyes on Enjolras.
Marius looks up at Enjolras, hoping the additional element to courage is passion.
Marie notes Javert's gone all passive, perhaps he would then be receptive to her advances. She smiles to Javert "So, what do you do again, when you're not all tied up?"
Enjolras spreads his hands wide before him. "We are to face the French Army in half a day and you have neither your mind on your work nor your bodies prepared for battle. Those who are not securing the barricades or preparing the rifles shall go and exercise their shots and put aside our rations. I want no laziness nor idle gossip. This is a war, not a ball. Go!"
Gavroche hops off of the table and begins to drag it again.
Marius looks disappointed that it's not a ball, and tries to sneak off for one last fling with Cosette.
Grantaire mutters, "Sir. Sergeant, sir." And gives the table another shove.
Javert turns his head back to the nun, and says significantly, "I serve the King."
Marie thinks about what Enjolras said, alas she has her mind on her own, and other's bodies. She wonders how she can help prepare them for battle.
Courfeyrac grins, and comes up to sling a comradely arm around Marius' shoulders. "Glad you made it."
Jaden gapes a moment. War? French Army? He was better off not knowing. He shoves on the table again.
Enjolras calls again to the prisoner, patient again. "Quiet, monsieur, or we will gag you as well."
Gavroche tugs the table closer to the barricade.
Prouvaire rolls his eyes at Javert's comment, and goes off to find something useful to do.
Enjolras crosses his arms proudly, surveying the scene laying out before his eyes.
Grantaire mutters to Jaden, "I told you."
Gavroche pulls on the table for all he's worth.
Marius continues passing out rifles, handing one to Courfeyrac.
Marie looks to Javert, "What? Surely you must have some free time..?" She looks hopeful, "A man like you.. aren't you the sort that are popular with the ladies?"
Jean Valjean looks around. "We need a flag. Can't have a good battle without a flag."
Grantaire stifles a snigger at the sister's remark.
Javert just peers at her oddly and doesn't dignify that question with an answer.
Courfeyrac grins at Marius, accepting the weapon, and then shoots an amused look at Valjean. "Could use your coat, granddad."
Gavroche says, "Enjolras, what's that around your waist? Don't give up now, Grantaire. We're almost there."
Enjolras is already untying his flag before Gavroche questions him. "Here, old man. Put this up and let is fly free, as all of France shall do soon enough!"
Grantaire throws up his hands. "Give up? Give up? I gave up before we started!" He says this as though he's proud of it. But he does give the table another shove.
Jean Valjean takes the flag, searching around for a suitable pole to mount it on. Should he tell them he's only here to make sure the man who impregnated his daughter lives to take responsibility for the child? Nah....
Gavroche says, "At least your friend is helping somewhat. You should have taken the coffee when I offered it to you."
Marie turns away and thinks for a moment before turning back to Javert, "You don't have.. problems in that area, do you?"
Prouvaire tosses a broomstick to Valjean on his way by. "Try that."
Enjolras shoots Grantaire a hard look. "We have no use for those who are not willing to fight for their country but guzzle cognac instead."
Javert looks at the sister with a questioning glance, then just shakes his head and decides he'd rather not know.
Grantaire gives Enjolras a wounded look, but doesn't retort.
Gavroche tries to look busy straining at the table.
Combeferre takes pity on the trio and comes over to lend a hand with the table.
Marius observes the flag Valjean is hanging. Red. The color of love. Sigh.
Enjolras squints up at the barricade. "We can use a ladder. You, Courfeyrac, go fetch one."
Jaden shoots a rather cross scowl Enjolras' way, and shoves harder on the table.