𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑪𝒀 || 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

02. 𝑳𝒆 𝑩𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆

Chapter 2.

✎ᝰ

November 17, 1881.

Gentle creaking of the old wooden floor beneath her stirred her consciousness, and with it came a confused rush of memories. Where was she again? Oh right, she was sprawled upon the couch of a cramped apartment, a far cry from her grandfathers mansion.

She was unfamiliar with the place and the people that lived there. And she was certain her grandfather was seeking to find her.

Her heart raced as anxiety tightened like a noose around her chest. What was she supposed to do with herself in this new world?

Just an day ago, everything had been so predictable. Now... now they found themselves amidst revolutionaries.

As she attempted to fully awaken, Elizabeth rolled over, reaching for the soft cushion beside her, but instead met the hard floor with a dull thud.

"Marius!" She groaned, flinging her arms out in an attempt to regain her dignity.

A wave of laughter erupted from the kitchen, and Elizabeth squinted against the light, peering through a wild tangle of red curls.

Marius emerged, a teasing grin plastered on his face, while Courfeyrac turned from the stove, spatula in hand, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Very graceful, Elizabeth!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, his laughter ringing like a bell in the narrow space.

"Shush!" She rolled over, brushing herself off with exaggerated nonchalance, pretending she had not just made a complete fool of herself.

The embarrassment warmed her cheeks, and she couldn't help but smirk, despite her light irritation.

"Come on, Lizzy," Marius chuckled, using the nickname only he dared to utter, "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to impress the revolutionaries."

"Impress?" she shot back, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm merely surviving in their chaotic world. It's a wonder I haven't been swept away by their absurdity yet."

Courfeyrac turned back to the stove with a playful smirk. "You'd better hurry up, then! We're heading out with the others soon."

Sighing dramatically, Elizabeth shot him a sidelong glance before making her way to a small mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. A frizz of red hair framed her face, and she grimaced.

"I look like a wild woman. How can I face anyone like this?"

"Primping won't help," Marius teased, crossing his arms in mock seriousness. "You're beautiful just the way you are."

"Cute, Marius. Very cute," she retorted, rolling her eyes at his brotherly charm. "But seriously, I look like I've been dragged through brambles. Can't I have one moment of vanity?"

Their jesting mingled with the aroma of frying eggs and warm bread, and outside, the world felt charged with the energy of evening. Elizabeth felt an unexpected excitement wafting through the room, overshadowing her previous disdain. With one last inspection of her hair and an exaggerated sigh, she resigned herself to her appearance. "Fine, fine. I'm ready ."

✎ᝰ

As they arrived at the library, the doorway spilling forth the sounds of uproar and laughter, Elizabeth felt both familiar and foreign among the revolutionaries.

They were raucous and alive, breathing life into the otherwise solemn atmosphere of a library.

The air crackled with their animated conversations and silly outbursts. Jehan, the youngest among them, stood in the corner, cheeks burning scarlet as a group teased him, playfully discussing how to shield his eyes from the audacious displays in a certain artistic tome.