Enjoy!
5th of June, 1832
He looks around him with feverish excitement, watching as Pontmercy hands out guns, Courfeyrac bounds around exuberantly, distributing ammunition, and Joly prepares his workspace inside the café. It is everything he dreamed about, this revolution, everything he planned, everything he wanted. His scouts tell him that there are more barricades all over the winding alleys of Les Halles, and that the National Guard are scattered in panic. He knows, though, it won't be long before army gets itself together, forms a plan, and marches on them. And they must be ready.
Monsieur Enjolras' barricade is a sight to behold, Victoire thinks to herself as she grabs another barrel, hands it on to the student who is fortifying the organised pile of broken pianofortes, handcarts, tables, chairs, coffins. The red flag flutters in the wind, from where it is held against a broken cartwheel, and the defenders are ready for whatever comes, laughing and smiling, cracking jokes and drinking alcohol. Monsieur Enjolras is in the middle of it all, a faint smile etched on his face as he oversees this thing which he has been planning for months. It makes her smile to know that the rough drafts on paper which she found drifting around his apartment look twenty times as good when they are made reality, blocking the street, and causing havoc to what started out as a fairly normal, Parisian day. It feels good to have order turned upside down for once, to have gamins like Gavroche (who is here, no matter how hard the students have tried to get him to go away) ordering around working men, and working men ordering around the students. It feels good to see so many people fighting on the behalf of her kind, les abaisses she once heard Monsieur Enjolras call them. It feels good to know that people care.
