Enjolras needs a sign (worldaboutodawn) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-01-25 00:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
WHO: Enjolras and Ariadne (tangledskein)
WHEN: Thursday morning
WHERE: A street in the city
WHAT: A very confused, very bloodstained Enjolras arrives in a place that is very definitely not 19th century Paris
RATING: TBD
STATUS: In Progress | Closed
Enjolras stumbled slightly as he pushed himself forward along the road. His golden hair was plastered to his clammy forehead and his white shirt was stained crimson with blood. He ought to have been dead or, at the very least, riddled with bullet holes but when he'd checked, on arriving, he found that he was intact - all apart from eight round, shiny scars of puckered, new skin spattered across his chest. Still, he was far from alright. He had no idea where he was. All around him, strange buildings towered high into the sky and every surface was a different shade of hard, weathered grey. One thing, however, was very clear to him - he was definitely no longer in France. For Enjolras, he couldn't have imagined anything worse.
With one goal in mind, returning home, returning to the battle, Enjolras stumbled his way along the road, following a painted yellow line that ran the centre. He thought he must have been unconscious for a while. There were no soldiers or bodies as he remembered. In fact, nothing was as he remembered. He didn't like it; he didn't like being unsure of himself and feeling out of control. Enjolras always had control; that was why everyone depended on him. Without his stability and sureness, what was he really? A scared little school-boy with a dream and a pistol.