|Gavroche shows what little people can do (onlygoestoshow) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2014-03-24 19:28:00
|Entry tags:||gavroche, kol mikaelson|
WHO: Gavroche Thénardier and Kol Mikaelson
WHAT: An adorable kid arrives in Lawrence and meets a vampire.
WHEN: This afternoon
WHERE: the cemetery
STATUS: In Progress
Some people would have called it stupid, crawling out in front of the barricade the way he did. Others might have called it brave, or some combination of all that. Gavroche didn't really think too much about it. The students needed bullets, Enjolras needed bullets. And he was the best chance they had at getting all those spare ones lying in front of their only protection. The adults would have been spotted. Gavroche was a little person, underestimated by so many, but sneaky and cunning when they wanted to be. And Gavroche was determined to prove his worth to his hero, to show he was just as capable as any of his men.
Besides, the child wanted something to focus on. Anything. His big sister was dead. Eponine, shot trying to help Marius. Gavroche did not have any issue with the other man, he was harmless enough, but it was his fault that his sister was dead and that wasn't alright with the boy. Seeing Eponine draw her breath in Marius' arms had made tears spring to Gavroche's eyes, tears he had to blink away, roughly rubbing his hand over his face and ignoring the concerned look from Grantaire.
So he would get the bullets and help Enjolras and do his bit to fight the soldiers who killed Eponine and bring justice and freedom to France.
That had been the plan. At least until the first bullet had grazed him, fiery pain shooting through him. But he would not stop. No, he would keep going, because he had to. Another bullet, more pain, one last grab for the ammunition, one desperate throw, and hoping beyond hope that it would help. He could hear Grantaire screaming his name, the commotion as people moved towards him.
And then one more loud crack, a bang.
And then nothing.
At least until he woke up again. Clothes torn, still covered in blood, his blood, but not a scratch on him. How? And why was he in a field? Where was France? Where were the students, Enjolras? Gavroche scrambled to his feet with a frown, glancing around him, taking in the crumbled stones and fences around the dried grass.
Where was he?