C'EST LA GUERRE | LES MISÉRABLES

IV.

Alexandria's chest struggled to rise and fall. Her recent illness had marked the orator's breathing ability.

"Revolution is not flowers and poetry. It's losing your mind as you try to remember that what you're fighting for is something you're dying for." She spoke with enthusiasm and a smirk teasing her chapped lips. The workload at Augustin's was light today, a factor Alexandria welcomed with still-wavering, open arms.

Astrid nodded intently at these words, scratching her quill against a scrap of parchment with intent. While the rumoured Industrial Revolution had begun granting new technologies to Parisians, the poor still lived off scraps. Modernity had yet to benefit the lives of those who suffered.

Alexandria continued to yell, passion building through her veins and other girls nodded and contributed cheers and comments. Véronique's face settled in a frown, and Alexandria ceased her rambling. "Véronique, have I said something that upsets you?"

The woman hesitated, then slowly nodded her head. "I love you and do believe you are your leader, but you must acknowledge your position of privilege."

Alexandria thought over her words, gesturing for Veronique to take centre stage alongside her. "So, you're saying I should not be talking about issues like this?"

"No, by all means, speak your opinion, but you are relying on something you do not directly affect yourself. Like ethnicity, or social status." Veronique suggests, glancing around the other women in the room. Her eyes fell upon Sabine, who was staring at her with a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me," Alexandria nodded. "I apologize for my mistake, it was insensitive and I spoke out of line."

"It's alright, Athena." Veronique's smile was genuine, and tore through the guile that pulsed off of Alexandria. The blonde leapt the flesh she perched on and gestured to Veronique.

"Would you like to speak?" She offered an encouraging smile gracing her lips.

"I will tomorrow; are you aware the sun is setting?" Véronique chuckled, casting her dark eyes towards the latticed window. Sure enough, the world outside was growing dimmer by the second.

Alexandria cursed as she hurried to her desk, remembering the embellishment she was meaning to add before she left. Her tiredness pushes away any thought of sitting and continuing her work, so she set it aside and instead marched towards the window. Paris was still visible, but the blue sky had quickly transformed into pink.

The blonde reached for the curtain to drape across the window, when a shadowy figure across the avenue caught her eye. They had not noticed her stare, so she flung the material over the window, threw her cloak over her shoulders and marched outside.

It could have been a member of the National Guard who overheard her rant, or a nobleman who knew exactly who that voice belonged to. But once she'd cleared her throat and stared directly at him, the man was surprisingly familiar.

"Monsieur Joly, what are you doing lurking in the darkness?" She asked, her tone harsh. The winter chill nipped at her cheeks, tinting them a deep pink.

"You are not just a seamstress." He spoke after a moment, his own coat pulled tightly to his chest.

"Are you stalking me?" Alexandria hissed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She glanced over her shoulder at the frosted window of the dressmakers, hoping to see any curious faces peering through the glass.