A lost princess, a band of dressmakers, an urchin, a maid and the Inspector's daughter. No one expected anything of them. This is a story about a group of girls forgotten in history, who defied odds before it was acceptable to do so.
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Alexandria's stomach was grumbling as she woke, an unpleasant sensation that made her want to curl into a ball and sleep longer. But the sun was rising and warming her sharp features, meaning another day of work and revolution had to be on the horizon.
The Bouchet-Guérin household was not one to be envied. Each girl had a box for a bedroom, but their worlds collided in the middle, a large sitting space that doubled as a kitchen, a laundry, a study. Mismatched furniture decorated the worn floorboards that needed a scrub. Neither woman had the time, so they gathered dust and grime from their boots.
The furniture comprised of a wooden desk and an array of different chairs. The single window brought the morning Paris light streaming onto their desk, which had been requisitioned by Alexandria into a revolutionary study space. Speeches, books and pens littered one half, a yard of red fabric for a dress Alexandria had begun to sew on the other. The girls had been making cockades for all members from scraps of material, and had hoped to distribute them at tonight's meeting. Alexandria grabbed her cockade and pinned it to her chest.
Alexandria had run away with a few items of value hanging from her person. The jewellery she pawned and the fabric she traded had been enough to organise a year's rent on their home, a generous negotiation that only Hettie had been able to barter. They were lucky to have a small income running between the pair, but that could not fix the broken window pane, or revive Alexandria's desk with three legs. They made do, and that made them happy enough.
Alexandria delved into the cupboards to see if her hunger could be solved, surprised to be greeted with a hunk of hard cheese and the dregs of a saucisson. No fresh goods in sight; she would have to visit the markets in between work and the Musain.
"Hettie?" Alexandria was never afraid to wake her friend up, namely because the apartment had no clock. Alexandria was often late to work, for she had an ill habit of reading till the candle burned out. If she was not a skilled employee with co-workers that could cover for her, she would not have a job. Hettie always woke with subconscious precision, but had yet to pick up on the habit of waking her friend up.
"You have not slept in, Athena," Hettie grumbled from her room. Alexandria breathed a short sigh of relief, dividing the remaining food into halves. She offered the plate to Hettie when she finally stumbled into their shared space. The redhead pulled a face at its contents, but began to eat anyway.
"We not got any bread in? Or fruit?" Hettie spoke with her mouth full of cheese.
"I can go before the meeting to ease your complaining." Alexandria teased. She had finished her portion and was beginning to re-pin her hair, walking to the newly washed yellow dress hanging across a wooden chair. She walked into her room and began to change, grateful she had bathed the night before.
