17Disclaimer: I have already declared my...non-ownership of anything involving Les Mis, except my copy of the OBC soundtrack (Terrence Mann forever! Down with Philip Quast!)
Monique la Croix traipsed down the Rue de Chanvrerie, turning heads as she went. She wasn't sure why people stared at her so every time she went somewhere-perhaps it had something to do with her exquisite pallor and hourglass figure. But she didn't have time to puzzle it out now (considering, especially, the fact that she had been afflicted with amnesia ever since the traumatic accident in early childhood that had left her with a perfectly heart-shaped scar on her left big toe.) She was a woman with a mission. A mission...to seduce the Amis de l'ABC.
Blanchefleur Larousse-Fairfax was likely to beat poor, sweet, innocent, strikingly beautiful Monique to the Cafe Musain. She had managed to get a head start, partly because she was six foot nine and a half and therefore had longer legs, and partly because she had been blessed by a good fairy when she was five with the ability to teleport herself anywhere she wanted to in the blink of one scintillating amethyst eye. She hadn't gone straight to the Cafe, though; she'd preferred to hang about in the streets for a while handing out candy to gamins. She tired of this after a while, though, and continued on her journey to the favored meeting place of those oh-so-delectable (except for Grantaire, and even he had his moments) melodramatic French boys.
Enjolras, that fine statue, was in the midst of a passionate speech, standing godlike on a table (which happened to have Grantaire slumped over it, three sheets to the wind, but this didn't faze Enjy) when Blanchefleur walked in. Enjolras promptly fell off the table.
Grantaire awoke from his drunken stupor to see the most amazingly, wonderfully, stunningly, crashingly beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life-and that included the green fairies that plagued him from time to time when he'd had a bit too much absinthe. She had silken mahogany hair that fell past her tiny waist, glittering violet eyes that seemed to peer into the very depths of his soul, flawless porcelain skin. Grantaire was in love.
So were Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Bahorel, Lesgle, Courfeyrac and Jehan.
Marius wasn't there, as usual; he was off in the Luxembourg stalking Cosette. Blanchefleur snapped her fingers and Marius appeared at the door. One look, and he fell immediately in love. Again. He joined Enjolras and the rest of the Amis in drooling like Neanderthals, all thoughts of Cosette driven from his inordinately thick head.
Combeferre, though, sat apart from the others. Something was wrong. He hadn't the foggiest idea what it was-but something was wrong. He sat and pondered, in true Combeferre fashion, for several minutes, but eventually gave up. "Perhaps it's just a hunch, characteristic of this exceedingly annoying type of story, that I will shrug off and dismiss as nothing for the moment, but which will come back in earnest near the end of the story and lead me to save the day and become the hero, as I am the oft-forgotten underdog of the Amis de l'ABC." This said, he settled comfortably back in his chair and watched his friends make fools of themselves. Being Enjolras' errand boy did have its advantages.
Monique arrived, finally, at the door of the Cafe Musain, her limpid azure eyes sparkling with adamantine tears. "Now I'll never be able to capture Enjolras' heart and help his stony heart learn to love again!" she cried. "Alas!"
"Can't you settle for making Grantaire realize the error of his ways and stop drinking, and have him fall in love with you instead?" suggested a random gamine, passing by on the street.
"No!"
"Cure Joly's hypochondria and replace Musichetta in the deepest, most passionate recesses of his heart?"
"No!"
"Help Bahorel become a gentle, peaceful soul, make him stop gambling and study harder to become a successful lawyer, and then marry him?"
"No!"
"Make Courfeyrac settle down and live a long and happy life with children that will eventually band together with the children of the other Amis for a cliched 'second-generation' adventure?"
"No!"
"Write poetry better than Jehan's, so that he falls in love with your beautiful verse, and then save him from being brutally executed by the gendarmes?"
Monique pondered this for a moment. "No, that wouldn't work either! I have to make Enjolras fall in love with me!"
"Can't help you there. Sorry!" The gamine bounded off, leaving poor Monique alone with nothing but her ineffable air of innocence, as it began to rain.
Chapter One is complete. Praise be to Ursula and the Marie-Suzette-o-Matic. What will happen next? Will Monique conquer Enjolras' stony exterior and win his heart, or will he remain devoted to Blanchefleur? Will Combeferre follow his heart and save the day? Tune in next time, mes amis, for the second chapter in the epic adventure of Monique, Blanchefleur and the Amis de l'ABC!
Valete,
-Sirius Ravenclaw
