@ElderGod-Icefire
So uh. I created a character who's basically a retelling of Enjolras from Les Mis (except he survived being shot after the barricade), and this is about him. I wrote this all at once so it's probably not very good, but uh
A boy who kisses other boys is already doomed, every
kiss a revolution, every touch a battle fought in
the war of life. A boy who only smiles
when he is being charming, who is
capable of being terrible.
A boy who shouts and swears and fights is
asking for a revolution. A red flag draped in his
hand and a summons in his voice, a call
to action. The people say that he
has no mistress; his wife is la patria.
He lets them believe so, for if they knew
that he looked at his friend with more
than friendship, they would no longer follow him.
And thus he leads them into a war,
but not a war. Barricades taking shape in
the streets, citizens handing out guns and bullets,
shouting. The boy has done this, has
caused this. Has become the voice
for the voiceless. He hopes that
when this is over, the new world they create
will welcome men and women who love
like he does.
During the night, the people
run away. Fear has taken root in his revolution,
and he is watching it crumble as man after man,
friend after friend, is shot, killed. Gone.
He is the last of a dying breed, now,
cornered in the second story of a little cafe, where
he and his friends dreamed up this rebellion. The
boy he loves is the last to fall, and then he knows nothing.
When he awakes he learns that he is
the last. That his revolution crumbled to
ashes and dust, his friends crumbling with it. The only
remnants are himself and a tattered red flag,
redder from the blood that soaked it. The
little cafe is abandoned, empty chairs with empty
tables, where his friends will meet no more. Only
one survived other than he, and he
cannot meet the other's eyes. This is his
fault. He led them to this. And he looks at the stars and
knows that he, the dreamer with his head
in the clouds, is now the only left with
his feet on the ground.