Homecoming
Amity was gone for nearly a month. Her mother had been clinging onto life for what seemed like weeks, and then finally passed on. Affairs needed to be settled, all sorts of legal crap. Finally, she announced she was coming home. She was nearly bouncing in the cab on the way home, eager to see her family again. She had gone blonde as she suggested she might, and looked to have lost a little weight—probably from stress. After paying the driver, she hauled her bag up the walkway and was extra quiet going into the house.
courfeyrac-lesamis started following you:
“Courfeyrac!” Combeferre greeted, glancing up from the pile of books that he had unintentionally scattered across one of the tables in the Musain. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around, Mon ami, though.. What brings you here at this late hour?”
courfeyrac-lesamis started following you!
Montparnasse wiped the blood from his mouth as he walked back to the Thenardier place. He smiled wide, and slid his knife against his already dirty thigh. “Dieu. Some people just won’t die easily.” He said to the dog that had been following him the last block.
+courfeyrac-lesamis started following im-a-con-just-like-you
Thénardier donned a torn coat and a fake bandage wrapped around his head. Begging on the streets wasn’t as affective as his usual antics, but the guards these days were catching onto him.
“Bonjour, good m’sieur, spare a sou?” Thénardier reached out his hand to the man passing by.
Of Coffee and Cuddles (Courf||Eponine)
Eponine leaned back in her seat as the meeting came to a close— Jehan had asked her to come along to a gathering of some boys he’d met, social activists, and she’d accompanied him out of simple curiosity. They were a good group, and despite her usual shyness, some of the boys had managed to draw her out a little by either asking her opinion gently or by a teasing remark or two.
courfeyrac-lesamis started following you
Gavroche snuck up behind his friend and pulled on Courfeyrac’s jacket to get his attention. “‘Ello, Courfeyrac!” he said, splitting up Courfeyrac’s name into a little tune.
courfeyrac-lesamis started following The Countess this evening
courfeyrac-lesamis started following The Countess this evening
The Countess ceased her heel steps at the sensation of another individual following her form. With a quick turn, The Countess revealed her form to the man. “I am The Countess and it appears you have followed my form for this evening. What is your name?”
Broken Spirits||Grantaire & Courfeyrac
The drunkard sat on his own in the Café Musain, isolated in the middle, like a island. Only he wasn’t surrounded by ocean. But empty chairs, broken glass, and memories. Memories were perhaps the worst of all. They reminded you that there was a time, when you where happy. When your friends were alive. Where you thought the world would spin on one day more. But not anymore. Now his world was crumbling to pieces around him. Grantaire stared blankly at the wall. Hoping for something to happen… Anything. His face was blank as well, but the shock and horror laying underneath was visible, coming with the realization that he would never see his friends again. The student was surrounded by five empty bottles. There would be more, but he felt so weak, that he could not stand to get another. It was moments like these where Grantaire wished himself dead. After all, there was nothing worth living for. But he could never bring himself to kill himself. He was so scared of death. What if there was no life after it? He seriously doubted there was.
His fragility and weakness contributed from multiple factors. Lack of food, lack of sleep, over indulgence of alcohol. His mind was killing him from the inside out. All the suffering. He was not convinced he could go on another day. Grantaire glanced of to the other end of the room, and he could practically see them. They were figures, indistinct, without faces, but the forms were the same, and the color were like the ones he had seen so very long ago. Images of people he once knew. Had it only been a month? It seemed much longer than a month now. Even he could not stop the tears that rolled freely down his face.
It was eight o’clock in the morning, and Marius Pontmercy found himself racing to get to his first class of the day on time. He was beginning to regret letting Courfeyrac talk him into taking such an early class with him, but who could resist the good natured student?
He stumbled into the class about five minutes late and, after a hasty apology to the professor, made a beeline to where his friend was sitting. “G’morning,” he mumbled as he dug through his bag for his notebook and a pen.
