So, guys, this is another story, because I have a bit of writer's block on the other one. Never fear, I shall update that one tomorrow, pinkypie promise. Anyways, I decided just to have a bit of fun with this one. - xxsincerely-yours
Enjolras was proud, rigid, and unfearing, the holier-than-thou leader of the rebels, the one who didn't need anyone. Yes, him. He was lonely. He was handsome - curly red hair , striking features, and deep crystalline blue eyes. He could have had any pick of women, but instead, he chose to devote himself to his Patria and his books.
The men teased him, boyish voices ringing across the square. They teased him about women. The only woman he was interested in Patria, Lady France. He didn't have time for women or love. But despite all that, he was lonely, and found himself in the dark alleys of the prostitute business more times than he cared to admit. Despite what the men thought, Enjolras not an innocent, but only Marius Pontmercy, his best friend, knew that. Despite his obvious ignorance of how to speak to a woman, he had been with women before.
Also, Enjolras knew most of what went on around him. After all, he was a leader, and had to know such things. When the men of the rebellion met at the cafe, he would read, but listen at the same time. This is how he began to notice the raven-haired girl who trailed his best friend around like he was God's gift on Earth.
She was a little urchin off the streets, one of the poor. She was gamine though, and she fluttered among the dark-thoughted men like a ray of sunshine - albeit, a very sarcastic, sharp-tongued, witty ray of sunshine. Enjolras supposed she was maybe a year or so younger than him. He would have expected her to turn to brandy, or ale for comfort, as so many did, but her pure, melodic voice showed that she had not. Her hair was indeed, extremely black, and it was very wavy, but not exactly curly. It was a ratty, tangled mess, but Enjolras supposed that it might be extremely handsome if it was clean and smooth. She did not seem painfully skinny, but gorgeously slender. Her eyes were a molten-gold color, and even under the layers and layers of dirt on her face, she was very pretty.
The raven-haired girl always wore olive colored trousers and a tight black shirt that was a little too small. Enjolras thought she must have had that shirt for a long time, as the shirt had been mended multiple times. Those clothes were probably the only she owned. Even though her attire was shocking for a girl, nobody would have mistaken her for a man.
She wasn't like the other girls. She knew how to shoot guns and use knives, as she always strapped a knife to her calf, and holstered a revolver in her belt. Her arms were well-muscled and toned, and the bruises she sometimes showed up at the cafe with were always in the shape of a man's handprint, something nobody ever discussed, but it was a given. Somebody was abusing her. It angered Enjolras, that somebody would hurt a woman, but he knew that it was commonplace. Fathers, hitting their daughters with ferocity, men, abusing their prostitutes - it was a hard life out there, and he knew it.
Marius had told him about her life and childhood at the tavern with her mother and father, and it shocked him. She was a virgin, chaste, but her sister had long since turned to that path. She was a godly woman, and extremely learned, literate and very capable.
She intrigued Enjolras more than he would've liked, but he told himself that it was because she reminded him of the rest of France, and what he needed to do the help them. He denied his growing interest in her, and they remained good friends, talking and nodding at each other when they saw the other. But perhaps God saw two lonely souls on Earth, and decided to do something about it.
Hope you liked it, and the first chapter will be up in a few hours. Thanks for your time! Review? If you have any requests, please don't hesitate to tell me. I am open to suggestions. - xxsincerely-yours