MariaShe is sixteen years old and she wears white. She is only a child, although she longs to grow up and take flight. She is a little bird, trapped by her family. Not trapped, though she may see it that way. We protect her. It is not easy, to be an adult. She will see, she will see. But for now, we will hold her a little longer, in white, a child for one more day.Maria by ~evlexa
She is not content to wear white. She is too eager to grow up, she thinks it exciting. It is anything but, I try to tell her, but she will not listen. How I wish I could be a child again. I, only three years older than her. I, in pink and red and purple, I long to wear white again. She consents to be a child now, if only for a day. She will not wait much longer.
Something has happened to her. Someone has happened to her. She dances around and drapes herself in colors, all the colors she can find. This is not how I remember is. I was this joyful too, but it was gone too quickly. She will lose this joy, and it will crush her. I sti
Euryalus Fasting and Nisus DrunkGrantaire rises, and looks around in vain search of his compatriots. He scans the doorways to the room, wondering which he should take, considering the tangled tracks his friends are likely to made made. Then he hears the stomping of footsteps-- to methodical to be a group of students rushing through the building. His blood chills as a voice cries out “vive la republique!”Euryalus Fasting and Nisus Drunk by ~evlexa
He turns toward the sound and his feet move of their own accord. He clings to the doorframe as he reaches it, stunned at the sight. It is Enjolras. Betrayed by the dawn, the soldiers have found him. Grantaire can only assume that the barricade has fallen and the others are all dead or prisoners. It is too much to hope that they might have escaped. Enjolras must have fled into the Corinthe, followed by the soldiers. Backed into a corner, he stands no chance.
Grantaire’s mind whirls. What can he do that would save Enjolras? What force, what weapons would help him now? Does Grantaire even have the cour
GrantaireGrantaire had always sat in the corner. It was almost tangible, how much he didn't belong here. He sat in the corner so he wouldn’t bother anyone- but of course, he did. He couldn’t help himself. But he sat in the corner because he wasn’t- couldn’t be- wouldn't be- really a part of their group. Grantaire has no fervent devotion to the cause, only to the man that leads it.Grantaire by ~evlexa
“From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn.”
Grantaire did see a new world from his little table in the corner. Not a world of liberty and equality, as the others do, but a bright world, illuminated by the dreamer who leads the fray.
“And they rose with voices ringing.”
And in the end, Grantaire had risen. He had crossed the room to stand by the only thing he had ever truly believed in. His voice ringing, Grantaire had died a dreamer, a believer, as he had always wished to be in life, but never thought himself capable of being. And in the end, that was
Shooting Flowers I never wanted this. What twisted sense of duty calls me here, to slaughter children? Not one of them is older than me. They have mothers, fathers, families. They are young; they are probably in love. They could be my brothers. We are all brothers, after all. What a hideous thing this butchery is!Shooting Flowers by ~evlexa
They are brave, I give them that at least. They will stand to the end. I wish I could be that brave. I am here only because I must be.
There is a boy here. He can't be more than ten or eleven. What is he doing? He has run out on front of the barricade to collect ammunition. He is no fool, young though he may be. He knows that we are forced to treat him the same as the others, now that he poses a real threat. If he returns to the barricade with that ammunition, many more will die tonight. So he cannot return. My comrades in arms steady their guns and fire. The bullets all miss. I know my comrades- my friends- better than t