Disclaimer: The Les Mis characters aren't mine. Nope. Nada.
Author's Note: FINALLY! After many failures with the child of the barricades, i have fianlly made a story worthy of this idea, the childhood of Combeferre. I have had the same idea for a while now, but have either been a) too lazy to type it or b) couldn't think of how to start it. Well, here goes nothing, i hope this one will entertain you better than the other ones. Try to be nice in your reviews. I'll try to get chapters up as soon as possible. Enjoy.
Gray Eyes.
February, 1807, near Nice, France- Amidst the pastures and fields of Nice, a few wealthy bourgeois enjoyed enormous mansions, scattered apart from each other and hidden from view by thick, luscious trees. The mansions covered a great deal of space, taking up much of a person's vision as they walked towards the monstrosity. Candles glowed in each of the windows, as the bourgeois did not have to worry too much about wasting precious candlelight. They could always get more, as was their inherited attitude. Even the French revolution a scant 14 years or so earlier did not teach most of the bourgeois a lesson, and after the revolution, after so many were slaughtered, many just returned from their hiding places to enjoy life once more. Jocelyne Combeferre, a dark haired, green eyed girl of 16, however, would soon learn the hard way about life on the streets. She was pregnant, and her family had just thrown her out of the house with barely anything but the clothes on her back. She had managed to grab a few things, some jewelry, to sell, for example, but she had almost no money, and her family hadn't bothered to give her any support. It just wasn't fair. Her boyfriend had convinced her to have sex with him, telling her to give him her heart, soul, and her body. He might of been 18, but he knew what he was doing that night. So had she. Or she thought. Now Jocelyne turned her head to face the wind, her lovely features marred with dried rivers of tears that left jagged marks down her cheeks...and they kept on coming. Her jade eyes, so normally wide and happy, were dull and reddened from crying. Her hair matted by the wind, her stomach showing a slight bulge from pregnancy-she was only about a month pregnant-and her hand tightly gripping the carpet bag containing her remaining possessions, Jocelyne headed out towards the nearest town, Antibes.
Author's Note: FINALLY! After many failures with the child of the barricades, i have fianlly made a story worthy of this idea, the childhood of Combeferre. I have had the same idea for a while now, but have either been a) too lazy to type it or b) couldn't think of how to start it. Well, here goes nothing, i hope this one will entertain you better than the other ones. Try to be nice in your reviews. I'll try to get chapters up as soon as possible. Enjoy.
Gray Eyes.
February, 1807, near Nice, France- Amidst the pastures and fields of Nice, a few wealthy bourgeois enjoyed enormous mansions, scattered apart from each other and hidden from view by thick, luscious trees. The mansions covered a great deal of space, taking up much of a person's vision as they walked towards the monstrosity. Candles glowed in each of the windows, as the bourgeois did not have to worry too much about wasting precious candlelight. They could always get more, as was their inherited attitude. Even the French revolution a scant 14 years or so earlier did not teach most of the bourgeois a lesson, and after the revolution, after so many were slaughtered, many just returned from their hiding places to enjoy life once more. Jocelyne Combeferre, a dark haired, green eyed girl of 16, however, would soon learn the hard way about life on the streets. She was pregnant, and her family had just thrown her out of the house with barely anything but the clothes on her back. She had managed to grab a few things, some jewelry, to sell, for example, but she had almost no money, and her family hadn't bothered to give her any support. It just wasn't fair. Her boyfriend had convinced her to have sex with him, telling her to give him her heart, soul, and her body. He might of been 18, but he knew what he was doing that night. So had she. Or she thought. Now Jocelyne turned her head to face the wind, her lovely features marred with dried rivers of tears that left jagged marks down her cheeks...and they kept on coming. Her jade eyes, so normally wide and happy, were dull and reddened from crying. Her hair matted by the wind, her stomach showing a slight bulge from pregnancy-she was only about a month pregnant-and her hand tightly gripping the carpet bag containing her remaining possessions, Jocelyne headed out towards the nearest town, Antibes.
