Red, The Blood of Angry Men

Henri Enjolras. 22. Student. Here to make a difference, even if it means that I've got to die trying. Things will change, you'll see. [Indie RP blog. Tracking the tag 'chefenrouge'.] Here is my Grantaire account! Here is my Gavroche account!

[certaintyofafullglass-blog]

Hey hey.

[coloursong]

[thetremorofahymn]

I think that this blog is going to go on an official semi-hiatus for the month of April. I won't write on it very much at all, and if I do, they probably won't be very long lasting things. Unless I get a lot of free time on my hands, my drafts are going to stay as such, but I'm not going to drop anything. April is my last month of school, and since I'm trying to keep my grades up while working, I'm going to need to put as much of my time and effort into school as I can. Not to mention, I'm going on a trip this month, and some moving things are being done. 

I won't be gone forever, but I might be gone until school is out. If you need me, I will happily chat with you on my Grantaire account.

[nadiezda]

El sacrificio de Enjolras

[revolution-butcivilisation]

"Well, for one, you’d have to start making your own coffee," Combeferre laughed, adding cream and sugar to his coffee before moving to the other side of the counter, out of the blond’s way. "And you’d probably be living with Courfeyrac, and having to deal with his method of entertaining himself on weekends."

"I was planning on cleaning the apartment up a bit, and I have some studying to do—but it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours."

[thetremorofahymn]

Enjolras thought for a moment about what it would be like to have to deal with Courfeyrac's method of entertainment, and he shuddered lightly, shaking his head. He was at least thankful for the fact that if Combeferre did have any sex in their home, he couldn't hear it. He certainly would not have such a luxury if he lived with Courfeyrac.

The leader chewed on his lip thoughtfully before leaning forward, resting his chin in his hand. "What if I helped you knock out the cleaning, and you helped me with handing out flyers for the next rally?"

[moon-cactus]

Living With Him//RP//thetremorofahymn

[moon-cactus]

A satiated Grantaire stood in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his slim waist and his inky curls dripping wet. A sly grin was plastered on his face as he sang along with Enjolras (though he knew the man wouldn't hear him because of the headphones), his voice gravelly yet pure.

He was a singer at heart, and yet he spent most of his time painting in the university's art studio, or on his electric drum set in the living room of his flat.

He watched Enjolras intently, wondering how long the man would go before noticing him in the doorway. Grantaire crossed his arms over his burly chest and raised a brow as Enjolras belted out a high note, seemingly unaware of his flatmate's presence.

[thetremorofahymn]

Enjolras didn't take too long to notice Grantaire-- in fact, right after he'd hit his sad excuse for a high note, he'd seen the other man standing in the doorway. He tugged his earphones from his ears and cleared his throat, the bridge of his nose turning a light shade of pink. "--My apologies. I perhaps got carried away." He knew he wasn't a fantastic singer. There was a reason that he didn't want to be the next  great pop star.

"I, um--" Enjolras reached up to scratch the back of his head. He wasn't sure what to say, so instead he glanced back to his computer screen and began typing again, just waiting for whatever jokes Grantaire had waiting for him.

[a-reckless-rosette]

     ”An’ I ain’t even gotta leave the room!” she cheers. Her grin turns from snarky to genuinely pleased, and she is suddenly a child, bouncing in place and finding pleasure in the simplest of things. This is the first time she’s ever been able to afford something so simple as being pampered, for it is quite a simple thing. Having food brought to you should be no more exciting than going to have food, and yet she finds it isn’t so.

     Even as a child, in those scant few years during which she was spoiled and could take for granted all she was given, her family had never been very rich. They had spent well on their daughters, but a place such as this would still have been well off the table.

     This is perhaps the first time she’s let herself be so openly excited in a very long while. She tries not to show her happiness, lest someone see and begin to covet what little she has. She is quite possessive at times. She does not consider herself unselfish.

     She stares at him once they’ve both got their food, eyeing his bagel with an oddly suspicious gaze. “… How come you don’t eat more? You got the money,” she points out. She can’t imagine anyone who could afford a feast for every meal wanting to eat something so skimpy as a bagel.

[thetremorofahymn]

Enjolras glances up at her and laughs softly, drinking a sip of his coffee. "I'm not very hungry in the mornings." He doesn't point out that she's lucky to see him eating much of anything. He's relaxing as best he can, and so more of his thoughts are focused on important things, like sleeping and eating. If he were back home, he would be so immersed in his work that even this bagel might seem like a hassle to eat while he's trying to study or work on a speech.

"I'll eat a better meal later," he offers, trying to comfort her a bit. He understands why she is shocked-- she's probably never once been full off of something as light as a bagel. He, on the other hand, has been full off of less than a bagel before. He is well-fed, however, and probably eats much more often than she does, therefore requiring less food when he does eat. 

[xcynique]

it's still a rose. [e&r]

[xcynique]

Grantaire is collecting himself to leave when Enjolras speaks to him again, not one to listen in on private conversations particularly, and certainly not from Enjolras, who looks far too human for his comfort with that look of frustration and petty irritation marring his face—

No, Grantaire doesn’t like his idols humanized, his worldview is confusing enough already.

But Enjolras was never Apollo—no, Grantaire’s given him that nickname once or twice before, because he resembles paintings, Sacchi and Vouet, but no, not Apollo—Apollo was too loose, too musical and not fierce enough.  No, no.  Not Apollo, brilliance is all Enjolras has in common with him.  Apollo was one of the nicer gods—Dionysus for madness, Ares in victory, Perses in destruction and peace, Alala, spirit of the war cry, Erete’s valour, and he Atë, the reckless one.

He should leave.

But he’s spoken to, and as always it transfixes him, leaves him standing up awkwardly at the corner of the table and smiling absently, his resting expression.

      ❝ Why apologize?  It’s not my phone or my irritated expression.

There is a crease between Enjolras’ brow and a tightness behind his eyes and it is uncomfortably unspirited; he prefers to see him yelling.

Easier to comprehend.

[thetremorofahymn]

Perhaps if Enjolras could hear Grantaire's inner thoughts, he would insist, once again, that he is human and that he has always been such. Instead, he drops his head forward, a little smile gracing his lips as he releases the smallest of bitter laughs. "Because we were talking, and I should not have answered the phone to begin with," he replied, shrugging lightly. "It was rude."

More so than rude, Enjolras found it far too revealing. It was too sensitive a situation for Grantaire to have to witness, and so perhaps if he could just keep that irritated expression from his face, then they could return to their conversation as if nothing had happened. At the very least, Enjolras should be the one to leave. Grantaire was to be meeting someone here. Enjolras was only having coffee.

"Please, sit, I have no intentions of answering the phone again or bothering you with my thoughts," he added, nodding at the chair before him. It was true. He didn't even explain his thoughts about things like this to Combeferre and Courfeyrac if he could help it.

His parents were his business alone.

[viitae]

i am falling apart o k a y. 

          i am breaking into pieces f i n e. 

                   nothing is okay anymore w r o n g. 

[lecroyantcynique]

Tell Me A Piece Of Your History || thetremorofahymn

         Grantaire had never thought too much about her dreams. They usually had to do with whatever you were thinking about before you fell asleep and nothing more. When she was younger, she dreamt of piano recitals and gymnastics competitions, often with something going catastrophically wrong. After she finally stood up for herself, she dreamt of canvas art shows and her future, which finally consisted of something she wanted. After she went to college, however, and fell into her group of friends, something changed. 

         She would wake up in the morning and have clear, vivid memories of what had been running through her head, rather than the muted, hazy ones that a regular dream gave her, memories that faded after just a few hours. She could remember every detail, even well enough to paint all of it. Paris in the 1800’s. A cafe, the fervor of revolution all around. All she ever felt was apathy unless a certain man was speaking. Then she listened attentively. Well, he. She couldn’t explain that either, why she always saw this through a man’s eyes. She had stopped trying to come up with an explanation until she noticed what was going on with Enjolras.

         You see, R was much smarter than most gave her credit for, but that was mostly due to how she portrayed herself. Once Enjolras started spacing out, chiming into the conversation with things that didn’t even belong there, she noticed. It took her just a little bit longer to realize that some of his random statements were familiar; she had heard them in her dreams. That wasn’t something that could be ignored.

         ”Enj,” She asked one day, tentatively approaching him after a meeting. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

[thetremorofahymn]

Enjolras was only aware of his slips from reality a portion of the time. It was when he said something particularly out of place (something involving the barricades, perhaps) that he noticed something was happening. When he had calmer slips-- ones in which he started to see things that weren't really there-- he simply felt disoriented afterward, as if he'd missed something. He blamed it on his lack of sleep. Really, he could tell something was wrong. He didn't have time for this-- didn't have time to slowly lose his mind. He had things to do, people to help. Perhaps he was only imagining it. Perhaps he really was just tired. People hallucinated when they were tired, right?

Grantaire had come to him after one of his hallucinations. He'd been sitting, listening to Combeferre, when suddenly he'd imagined them back in the Musain, Grantaire as a man who infuriated him even more than she does now. He hadn't been driven back then, and now she had something that she wanted to do. She was still a drunkard, but at least she had some sort of ambition...

As soon as Combeferre stopped speaking, Enjolras had snapped out of it, and hadn't been able to give a proper response to his proposal because he'd barely heard any of what he'd actually said. He blinked a few times and sat straight, clearing his throat. Most of the Amis had left the room by the time Grantaire approached him. 

"Yes?" he asked her softly, picking up his things and placing them in his bag. "Can I help you with something?"

[thetremorofahymn]

THREE MORE DRAFTS ON HERE AND THEN I THINK I HAVE FOUR ON MY OTHER ACCOUNT

[irisannwest]

do you ever

do you ever just have

that one class

that one freaking class

that just depresses you when you think about it because

oh god you hate it so much

[lagoonhag]

#the bourgeoisie tbh

[mchllwne]

[thetremorofahymn]

"Hey blondie. Is your name really Apollo? I didn't realize that was still a name parents gave children. Were yours mythology nerds?"

"—And who are you?"

[coraliegrantaire-blog]

"Oh, so you’re only going to change the world for a small part of the population then? How noble. Are you aware of how many people are apathetic about these sorts of things? How can you bring yourself to care about one part of a population but not everyone? Doesn’t everyone deserve a better life, even those who can’t hope for change?" Her expression darkened. "Oh fuck you. You have no right to presume anything about my family. For one thing, I am not a drunkard, but I guess that’s unimportant if I disagree with you like my brother does. Oh I must not be worth changing the world for. You’re an arrogant prick." Coralie snorted and rolled her eyes, feeling entirely unsympathetic toward Enjolras. "Oh boohoo. My entire life I’ve lived with people who didn’t even care if I succeeded or failed. At least people think enough to want you to fail. So that’s nice. I don’t care about your opinion either."

[thetremorofahymn]

"I don't need to hear your criticisms. I get enough of those from your brother, and at least he focuses on the real problems at hand when his skepticism interrupts my meetings. You haven't the slightest influence on what I do or don't do, so you're wasting you're breath. You are rude and I haven't got to listen to you. I'd rather take your brother's advice." With that, Enjolras turned on his heel and began to walk off. He was done with this conversation.

[thetremorofahymn]

"Hey blondie. Is your name really Apollo? I didn't realize that was still a name parents gave children. Were yours mythology nerds?"

"—And who are you?"

[coraliegrantaire-blog]

"Oh please. You treat him worse than anyone else. Do you treat any of your other friends like that or just drunkards? And your goals do involve being kind with drunkards, because face the facts, most people who lead a poor or shitty life feel inclined to drink. Are you just going to hate all the poor people who drink, which may be a large number of people? Oh so just because people don’t believe in your ideals they can’t be treated equally?" Coralie’s eyebrow raised at the man, finding herself getting angrier at this arrogant dick. "Also you’re an idiot. Just because you don’t know why someone attends your stupid meetings doesn’t mean you can be a douchebag. I hope you fail."

[thetremorofahymn]

"I am not trying to change the world for people who don't want to change it for themselves. I am trying to change it for those who want a better life and try their hardest to get it. If that means making the world better for drunks, then fine, but that is not my goal. I don't treat him any differently than I would treat anyone else who is a drunken skeptic and tears down my every thought. I see it runs in the family." At her next comment, Enjolras released a bitter laugh. "My entire life, I've met people who want me to fail. Your opinion means nothing to me."

[thetremorofahymn]

"Hey blondie. Is your name really Apollo? I didn't realize that was still a name parents gave children. Were yours mythology nerds?"

"—And who are you?"

[coraliegrantaire-blog]

"Well as far as I’ve heard there’s only like…nine of you or something. That counts as little. And no, I can’t say I care about some group that thinks they can change the world or whatever. Plus I know you treat my brother like shit, so even if you change the world you’re still gonna treat some people terribly, so will the world really be changing much?"

[thetremorofahymn]

"I don't treat your brother any differently than he treats himself. Or me, for that matter. And my goals do not involve being kind to drunkards, my goals involve making the world better for those who are poor, and for those who cannot be themselves because the government has an issue with it. Your brother does not believe in my ideals, so I don't know why he attends the meetings to begin with."

[thetremorofahymn]

"Hey blondie. Is your name really Apollo? I didn't realize that was still a name parents gave children. Were yours mythology nerds?"

"—And who are you?"

[coraliegrantaire-blog]

"It’s true, his alcohol consumption makes it possible that he could accidentally get married. I do like to think he would be aware if he was around his sister and not try to marry her." Coralie wasn’t going to go too far into that however, as it wasn’t her business what her brother did in that regard. Not really. "Ahh well he never gave you another name so I couldn’t have called you anything else. Henri Enjolras. Hmm….less exciting but I’ll get over that. So are you actually the leader of that little gang of protesters or is that a lie too?"

[thetremorofahymn]

"I am the leader of the 'little gang of protesters'. Sounds like you're not too fond of us?"