Snow, Snowball Fight, Winter Wonderland, The Triumvirate
I'm late this this event, so I just mashed together some prompts and came up with this. This takes place in my AU setting I'm writing about. Here's the link to AO3. (Word count: 1500 words). @brickmas
City Gate, Southeastern Paris - Early November, 1831
As autumn died, and the beautiful golden hues adorning the trees of Boulevard de l’Hôpital vanished, replaced by a dirty and soot-covered blanket of snow, three sisters walked south to the city gate. The three girls were from the Jondrette brood, who were destitute and lived over at Gorbeau Tenement, somewhere along Rue du Banquier.
“C-c-crap, it’s freakin’ cold!” Azelma, the youngest, shivered, shoving her hands under her armpits for warmth. She wrapped tightly in a woolen blanket but the wind still bristled against her skin.
“Get a grip, ‘Zelma, we only just left,” Éponine said, her voice muffled by her popped collar which covered the lower half of her face, “Still got a long way to go, so don’t bother complainin’.”
Éponine was dressed in a threadbare, drab-colored woolen cloak that hung low around her shins and was buttoned up all the way to her collar. She also wore a heavy pair of men’s workboots which clopped loudly with every step she took. She walked facing ahead and stood upright.
Azelma blew her tongue at Éponine before turning to the middle sister, “Hey, how come you’re not freezing your rats off, C’sette?”
I’m used to it,” Cosette deadpanned.
Cosette wore only her usual clothes - a white chemise in ruinous condition, and a frayed red skirt. She wore a simple black cap atop her head, letting her dark, tangled hair fall down to her back. She was wrapped up in an old shawl for warmth and wore a basic pair of flats and stockings. She stood with a hunched back and shoulders and kept her gaze low as she walked.
“Yeah, but just that crappy old shawl isn’t going to keep you very warm for too long, y’know?” Azelma said.
“Let it go,” Éponine butted in, “Lark’s only ever been an urchin, ‘course she’s used to it.”
Cosette scoffed, “Used to what? Listening to you yap on and on?”
Éponine snorted, “There she is.”
“C’mon, C’sette, don’t start,” Azelma groaned.
“What do you mean, ‘don’t start’?” Cosette asked, “Just wondering how Princess over here got so pumped full of hot air.”
Éponine’s boots clopped harder with every step she took, before shooting Cosette a nasty look, “Just shut the hell up at the gate, Lark.”
When they finally arrived at the southeastern “Gate of Italy” as it was called, Éponine went up to the guards and handled the talking.
“Messieurs, our aunt lives out in the country and she is terribly ill. Our parents must work and sent us to go look after her. Would you kindly let me and my sisters through?” Éponine pleaded, while Azelma sniffled, and Cosette made herself look as pathetic as possible.
When the guards let them pass, Éponine loudly proclaimed “God bless you both, messieurs!” Before quickly scampering out into the countryside with the other two.
“Hah, suckers,” Éponine chuckled to herself.
“Done feelin’ proud of yourself?” Cosette asked, “Who’s the mark this time anyway? ‘Pa was being all hush-hush about the letter.”
“Least I got somethin’ to be proud of,” Éponine grumbled and pulled the packet in her hand out from under the cloak and took out the letter, “The envelope is addressed to some Abbé Carlos… Herrera? Some kind of foreigner’s name, but the letter’s addressed to some guy named Vautrin.”
She checked the address on the envelope, “He ain’t too far, just over there in Ivry,” Éponine pointed over to the small but fairly affluent suburb in the distance, “Looks rich, kinda like Auteuil. Too bad the forest is on the other side of the Seine.”
The mention of a forest made Cosette’s heart skip a beat. Indeed, across the Seine, loomed the great Vincennes Forest, standing like a dormant mass of brown among the snow. She looked away, preferring to keep her head down.
Azelma had a smile beaming on her face as she took in the surrounding countryside of Île-de-France, as it was caked in a thick layer of fresh snow.
In fact, snow was everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. The myriad fields that dotted the landscape were covered in snow. The still, unmoving windmills to their right were covered in snow, even the trees, somewhat, were covered in snow. The overcast, midday sky, was even white like the snow. Along the road, there were relatively few carriages and coaches rolling along, to or from Paris.
“Look at all that snow!” Azelma beamed, running ahead of the two older sisters, doing a spin and then diving head-first into a deep pile of snow.
“So, what’s the plan, ‘Ponine?” Cosette asked, “You ain’t planning on stealin’ the money for yourself again, are you?”
Éponine regarded Cosette from the corner of her eye, “What’s it to you?”
“Nah. Figured you’d waste it on chasing that dumb blockhead next door.”
“You ain’t know nothin’ about him, so shut up!” Éponine snapped.
“... Fine. Think you already know what I’m gonna say anyway.”
“Yeah, and you better not say it, Lark,” Éponine grumbled, walking ahead, “Heard enough of you calling me ugly. Look at yourself in a mirror for once.”
Azelma was mock-buried inside a snowy gravy next to the road, giggling the whole time.
“What in the world are you doing, idiot?” Éponine chided, “‘Pa’s gonna sell you if you turn into a block of ice.”
“Awesome,” Azelma stood up, brushing off the snow from her dress and blankets, “I for one, think I’d fetch quite the price.”
Cosette’s face twitched into a smirk for half a second, before she forced it back into her usual poker face.
“Hey, look!” Azelma held up a snowball, “Snow’s still fresh!”
“That’s filthy,” Éponine rolled her eyes, continuing down the road. Each heavy clop of her boots could still be heard with every step.
“Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed,” Cosette said.
Azelma shot Cosette a conspiratorial look, “C’sette.”
“I didn’t say nothin’ though.”
“You’re about to do somethin’ anyway.”
Azelma snickered, “Hey! ‘Ponine!”
Éponine stopped, and turned, “What?” she asked, “Hurry the hell up!”
“Wh-” The snowball landed right on Éponine’s face, “Yeow! Brat!”
“Bullseye!” Azelma laughed, as Éponine cleared the snow off her face.
Cosette couldn’t help but to laugh along, “Pffft, hahaha!”
“Ugh! You pigs!” The elder sister gathered a snowball and tossed it right at Cosette, landing on her shoulder, eliciting a sharp, “Ow!” from her.
“Oh ho ho ho!” Éponine laughed haughtily, covering her mouth with a hand, “What’s the matter, Lark? Surprised by my aim?”
“You asked for it, witch!” Cosette threw a snowball of her own.
“Grrr!” Éponine threw two in succession, and Cosette returned by pelting the elder with two of her own.
“Snowball fiiiiiiight!” Azelma declared, before launching away at both Cosette and Éponine, right as the elder sister’s spat seemed to be focused on each other.
It was half an hour of snow and laughter later that the three Jondrette girls lay down along an incline, facing the city inside their own little beds of snow.
“Your aim’s worse than a guy pissing away in the wind, Lark,” Éponine said.
“At least I can actually see and use my head,” Cosette said, “‘Fraid if you tried knockin’ on that head of yours it’d sound just like an empty barrel.”
“Can you two put a lid on it?” Azelma asked, “You’re ruining my beauty sleep.”
“Who told you to sleep on the job?” Éponine rebutted, sitting up, her whole back covered in snow, “Oh sh-”
Éponine patted down her cloak frantically, “Where’s that damned letter?!”
After a moment of panicked searching, she calmed down when looking at the large pile of snow they left from their earlier scuffle, “Nevermind. We’ll just tell ‘Pa M’sieur Vautrin wants another letter.”
“What’s it matter anyway? We’ll just have to come out here again to deliver it later,” Cosette said, “S’all life is, at this point.”
“Dunno where you became such a cynic,” Éponine rolled her eyes, receiving a deadpan stare from Cosette, “What? Livin’ like this sucks.”
“Whatever. All this suffering’s pointless, anyway. Not like any of us asked to be born.”
A pensive silence fell among the girls letting the prickly winter wind massage their ears. They watched the traffic along the road to Paris, until they were shooed off from the property by the farmer.
“Why’re we goin’ to Ivry?” Azelma asked, “We already lost the letter.”
“Who cares, we came this far already, might as well see the sights.” Éponine said.
Cosette’s heart felt lighter the rest of the day. No doubt pelting Éponine with snow helped her mood, but why waste it?
“If you two cross the river to see the woods, I’m goin’ home.” Cosette said.
“Wow, lame,” Éponine said.
“You know what we need? A snow truce!” Azelma posited.
“No!” Both Cosette and Éponine said at the same time.
“Fine… I was just trying to help…” The youngest grumbled.
The road to Ivry seemed a bit brighter.
