E/R where Grantaire is Death and Enjolras keeps having near death experiences.


(this got a little longer than I intended… and a little rougher.  I might clean it up once I get home but for now)

among the crowd, Enjolras couldn’t say what about the man caught his
eye.  Maybe it was because he stood as a small island of stillness in
a roiling, bubbling sea of movement and energy.  While the afternoon
had slipped away to night and the light and warmth of the day had
faded, the protest had only grown in energy.  What had started out as
a simple march under the afternoon sun had become something tense and
serious as the streetlamps had turned on and the police had started
to rise as more than just a cursory presence.  As riot shields
started to appear and the voice turned from the energetic, slogan
shouting of the afternoon to something lower and angry, like a swarm
of bees, the energy of the protest had become an bursting, barely
contained thing; it made Enjolras’s blood feel like it had been
replaced with liquid lightning, made his words come fast and strong
and vicious and true, made
him feel so alive and furious and thrilled so see the response they
stirred in the crowd that surged around him like a wave.  The first
stone had not yet been thrown, and if they were lucky no violence
would happen tonight, but the eyes and ears of the media was on them
now.  But among all this there was one man who stood like he didn’t
quite fit with the thrumming rhythm of the crowd.



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