Enjolras; (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idealisme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu_logs2013-02-05 09:28 pm
idealisme) wrote in tushanshu_logs2013-02-05 09:28 pm
Let others rise to take our place
Characters: Enjolras, open
Date: The evening of his arrival
Location: Sitting somewhere around the Wood sector, near his suite.
Situation: Enjolras is alive and doesn't really want to talk to anyone on the magical talking box yet.
Warnings/Rating: None? Talk of martyrdom, injury
[It was strange here, but peaceful.
Peaceful was what Enjolras needed at the present moment, with his thoughts so very tumultuous. It had not been a day, in his estimation, since the barricade around the Corinthe and their revolution had been cut short. It was hard to believe, sitting on this bench in the evening sun, that the past few hours were not all a dream of violence and passion.
He was grounded by the state of his clothes. The ocean had washed most of the blood away and something had staunched the bleeding, but the bullet holes were there on his vest, and there were marks on his skin beneath which could only be caused by musket fire.
He should see a doctor, he knew. But he did not wish to deal with the after yet. For now he simply wanted to sit, in the late evening sun, in all of his wretched and bloody state, and think on this:
He had died for the Republic.
But should anyone come along and wish to talk, then he would welcome that also.]
Date: The evening of his arrival
Location: Sitting somewhere around the Wood sector, near his suite.
Situation: Enjolras is alive and doesn't really want to talk to anyone on the magical talking box yet.
Warnings/Rating: None? Talk of martyrdom, injury
[It was strange here, but peaceful.
Peaceful was what Enjolras needed at the present moment, with his thoughts so very tumultuous. It had not been a day, in his estimation, since the barricade around the Corinthe and their revolution had been cut short. It was hard to believe, sitting on this bench in the evening sun, that the past few hours were not all a dream of violence and passion.
He was grounded by the state of his clothes. The ocean had washed most of the blood away and something had staunched the bleeding, but the bullet holes were there on his vest, and there were marks on his skin beneath which could only be caused by musket fire.
He should see a doctor, he knew. But he did not wish to deal with the after yet. For now he simply wanted to sit, in the late evening sun, in all of his wretched and bloody state, and think on this:
He had died for the Republic.
But should anyone come along and wish to talk, then he would welcome that also.]
no subject
Even if magic were an option available to me, I would still rather have died on the barricade. I am not afraid of it, and to hope for a miracle of healing would mean I regretted the road which led me to stand in front of the Guardsmen's rifles.
no subject
She raises her already-high eyebrows.]
Nothing wrong with a good death, but there's something to be said for living to fight another day.
no subject
The Guard would not have permitted us to live, after this Revolutionary action. No, mademoiselle. The only other end permissible to our uprising would have been outright victory.
no subject
That's France's motto. Well, minus the "or Death" part.
no subject
He would be more impressed if Enjolras didn't think everyone should know that.] I am French, Mademoiselle.
no subject
I figured it out from the clothes.
[Not that she could spot the difference between 19th century French fashion and 19th century anybody-else's fashion, but there's been a wave of Frenchmen in archaic clothing, and Nita pays a lot of attention to style.