Yay, once again, thanks for the reviews. It feels so nice to be noticed dramatic gasp There's a new charrie in the story called Angelique. She'll probably disappear after this chapter but if you want me to keep her tell me. :)
Shanaelle Clairvaux was now with her prostitute friend Angelique Nymphette Lafayette-deFlaeria, who was equally as pretty but not as beautiful. See, there's a big difference between those two lovely words and characters. But they were both very, very beautiful and they were both very nice prostitutes who were very smart and could read better than most university students could.
Angelique Nymphette Lafayette-deFlaeria was a very pretty girl with black hair that was darker than the darkest of soot and the darkest or nights. Her hair was up to her knees and curled in beautiful ringlets that were the envy of all the bourgeois girls of the area. Her skin, like Shanaelle's, was as pale as the finest porcelain and contrasted in the loveliest fashion with her black hair. She had an hourglass figure with a lovely (censored!). The strangest thing about her, however, was the fact that her eyes weren't the normal blue, green or brown but they were a stunning mix of silver and violet, which made her even more beautiful. But she never realized she was beautiful and wondered why all the men on the street came up to her with faces red, on their knees and with a very large diamond ring in a box.
Indeed she was a fine lady not only in looks but in intelligence as well. Her poetry outshone that of Jean Prouvaire's (don't ask how she knew the poor little poet), she was stronger than Bahorel and she had a glare that could surpass Enjolras'. Her poems were mainly about love and mythology and they were widely acclaimed, though she never received any fame because she went under a male pseudonym of Alfred Lord Tennyson who was supposed to be an English man. Yes, she was very smart but she could not go to university because, alas, she was only a woman.
One day Angelique and Shanaelle were walking down the street chattering in livid voices about the latest fashions when, out of the blue, Enjolras walks by with an out-of-character smile on his face. He had probably seen her in the distance (after all, who wouldn't notice two heavenly beings walking down ugly slums) and rushed up to her.
"Dear Shanaelle, where have you been? I have been postponing the meetings until you have arrived," he babbled and grabbed her hand, smothering it with countless kisses. Apparently he hadn't noticed the other ethereal being that was standing beside his true love.
As Enjolras was kissing Shanny's hand like there would be no return, Angelique's perfect eyesight caught the figure of a handsome though somewhat lanky man chasing after Enjolras. It was the figure of Courfeyrac; she knew that because she, like Shanny, was a head spy and knew everyone that frequented the Latin Quarter. A beatific smile crossed her face as the dark haired figure approached. "Ah, Courfeyrac!" she exclaimed merrily, a twinkle in her eye.
Courfeyrac looked up, his handsome eyes startled. How did this girl know her? No matter, though, she was just so beautiful that couldn't help but turn red. "Ah—ah, one beautiful woman after another," he muttered under his breath before gathering his senses. Senses collected, he turned his face up and looked at the very beautiful girl and said in his most charming voice, "You are very beautiful, your beauty separates you from the other women like the moon and the water." Ah, so some people weren't so poetic like Jehan or Angelique. "But, pray, tell me what your name is mon cheri."
Angelique fluttered her black lashes and Courfeyrac watched in pure awe as they kissed her high cheekbones before fluttering back above her mystic eyes. "My name is Angelique Nymphette Lafayette-deFlaeria."
Courfeyrac blinked and smiled like a nervous schoolboy, which he wasn't, if he were in character, of course. "Your surname is deFlaeria?" he enquired, forgetting about his hate for the particle. "Then I shall be Monsieur deCourfeyrac! Come, mon cheri, let us go and have dinner at my apartment." He said the last two words with such mirth it was like he would explode any second.
Then, taking deFlaeria by the hand, they left.
That left Shanaelle and Enjolras alone with nothing but the underdogs who were moaning in the streets. Enjolras blushed a little and took his mistress by the hand, still unsure of what to do. He had never talked about love to anybody, not even to his confidant Combeferre, and he was very, very unsure of what do to with such a beautiful, lovely, heavenly etc etc lady.
Shanaelle smiled, sensing his discomfort, she had the power of strong empathy. "Oh dear Enjolras, I—oh? Who's that?" she asked abruptly, turning her head and looking rather curiously at a middle-aged inspector-looking man who was walking down the street with a haughty look in his eyes.
"He?" Enjolras asked, rather lost. It was just a regular member of the police force who was just not as attractive as he was. How dare she go all lusty-ful to that ugly man instead of him? Was it something he did? Did he offend? What, what, what!
Enjolras turned to a shade of pale pallor as he watched the one and only love of his life look at the inspector-man curiously, like a child. "Oh, Shanaelle, come on," he finally sputtered and grabbed her by the hand, placing a kiss on it, before pulling her back to the Latin Quarter's Café Musain.
The police man's name was actually Javert and he was enjoying a walk around the outskirts of the famed Latin Quarter while inspecting all of the people around him while he was at it. Apparently everything was going to plan as he had reprimanded and 'told off' a group of gamin who were defacing a wall with obscene messages. Now everything was all fine and dandy and everything just got better when he saw her.
Hopefully this is a cliffhanger of sorts. Apologies for the lame and short chapter. . Anyways, enjoy/review/read/wrech/whatever.