A/N: Okay! Number four! I'm on a roll! I promise I /will/ have number five
up for Barricade Day!! Its already half-done, so I promise it'll be
complete!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Hugo's work. How unfortunate ( I also don't own the few lines of Phantom of the Opera I use. I do however own 5 of Courfeyrac's deranged lovers.
Nebulia – You know, when I was writing the death scene for this one, I almost started laughing. Because you expect them all to die, so it's just a matter of how. Heh, I polled a couple friends for this one...
NOTE!!: For some reason lover number four did not even hear of the barricades occurring where they did.
We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...She hummed softly to herself while wandering the streets of Paris, only to head to Corinth in hopes of seeing Courfeyrac, whom she had not seen a trace of since she had given herself to him a fortnight past.
As she neared the Corinth she noticed piles of paving stones, a cut rope that looked as if it may have once been binding someone's hands at one time or another and various other pieces of debris strewn about. Beginning to slacken her pace, she noticed that it was much more than just a pile of wreckage, it's was the remnants of a barricade. Rounding the corner she saw bodies lying scattered about the ground. A thought struck her. Did Courfeyrac fight here? Was he dead, here, in this mass of bodies? Every nerve in her told her to turn around, and never return. Yielding no attention to the sheer terror that clung to her she pressed onward. She heard shouts, that of a man and a woman arguing ahead of her. Following the voices she saw a group of National Guardsmen facing a young woman about her own age. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay wrapped under the woman's arm. It was Courfeyrac. "René" she breathed in a nearly inaudible tone, minding to keep herself concealed behind what may have been a fraction of the barricade. She heard a shot ring out and saw the woman recoil back in pain. "René!" She screamed, as if she were expecting him to awaken and come to her, away from the dying woman that now lay on top of him. A few of the National Guardsmen looked back in her immediate direction as she ducked behind the cover of the ruins and set about running. Tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably.
"Martine, I love you." The words encompassed her mind. Lifting her skirts she ran faster. Courfeyrac, who but a week ago pledged his undying love for her, was dead. What if she had become pregnant with his child? Her life would be ruined. She saw a busy road ahead and headed directly for it. There was a cabriolet rushing down the street. In an instant, Martine was in front of it, soon getting tangled under the spooked horse's hooves. The horse rushed forward after trampling Martine and dragged the cabriolet over her body and away. A group formed around her mangled form and one man, who claimed to be a doctor, searched for sign of life in an otherwise lifeless form. The doctor looked from the group to the corpse and back again. After heaving a sigh the doctor made his announcement. "She's dead."
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Hugo's work. How unfortunate ( I also don't own the few lines of Phantom of the Opera I use. I do however own 5 of Courfeyrac's deranged lovers.
Nebulia – You know, when I was writing the death scene for this one, I almost started laughing. Because you expect them all to die, so it's just a matter of how. Heh, I polled a couple friends for this one...
NOTE!!: For some reason lover number four did not even hear of the barricades occurring where they did.
We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...She hummed softly to herself while wandering the streets of Paris, only to head to Corinth in hopes of seeing Courfeyrac, whom she had not seen a trace of since she had given herself to him a fortnight past.
As she neared the Corinth she noticed piles of paving stones, a cut rope that looked as if it may have once been binding someone's hands at one time or another and various other pieces of debris strewn about. Beginning to slacken her pace, she noticed that it was much more than just a pile of wreckage, it's was the remnants of a barricade. Rounding the corner she saw bodies lying scattered about the ground. A thought struck her. Did Courfeyrac fight here? Was he dead, here, in this mass of bodies? Every nerve in her told her to turn around, and never return. Yielding no attention to the sheer terror that clung to her she pressed onward. She heard shouts, that of a man and a woman arguing ahead of her. Following the voices she saw a group of National Guardsmen facing a young woman about her own age. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay wrapped under the woman's arm. It was Courfeyrac. "René" she breathed in a nearly inaudible tone, minding to keep herself concealed behind what may have been a fraction of the barricade. She heard a shot ring out and saw the woman recoil back in pain. "René!" She screamed, as if she were expecting him to awaken and come to her, away from the dying woman that now lay on top of him. A few of the National Guardsmen looked back in her immediate direction as she ducked behind the cover of the ruins and set about running. Tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably.
"Martine, I love you." The words encompassed her mind. Lifting her skirts she ran faster. Courfeyrac, who but a week ago pledged his undying love for her, was dead. What if she had become pregnant with his child? Her life would be ruined. She saw a busy road ahead and headed directly for it. There was a cabriolet rushing down the street. In an instant, Martine was in front of it, soon getting tangled under the spooked horse's hooves. The horse rushed forward after trampling Martine and dragged the cabriolet over her body and away. A group formed around her mangled form and one man, who claimed to be a doctor, searched for sign of life in an otherwise lifeless form. The doctor looked from the group to the corpse and back again. After heaving a sigh the doctor made his announcement. "She's dead."