Oh yeah, the quotes with no name in them are by me! Sorry for the shortness!
Chapter II: Aphrodite
Lust is a tool, desire a trap. Wield the first, and you can take someone's soul. Fall into the second, and they can take yours.
– Riley Shane
Eponine stood in front of him and smirked with wickedness as she began to drag him from the dense area and into the shadowed and secluded part of the club, she placed him on a chair with a stern command, directing towards the confused man. He sat. He didn't know why he did, and it wasn't him to take orders, but he did. What in hell's name am I doing here? He sat because of confusion and suddenness of everything. He sat because he was shocked, and it was uncanny. Everything that's surrounding him replaced everything that he was used to, he looked around and saw lights and noise from afar. There was something dangerous about those vibrant lights, and he sensed it. But he made no action towards it. There was something dangerous about the Eponine that he was seeing, at this moment. Where was that old scrawny figure? He placed an intent gaze at her; a gaze of someone who understands nothing and it wasn't like him.
Eponine stood at her increased height because of the five-inch black stilettos that she was wearing, and she looked confident about it. "Epo-"he murmured, trying to beat against the wave of desire that's trying to infiltrate through his system. You're better than this. She backed off, how did he- trying to regain her guard; she took a bottle of strong whiskey from the supply and pulled him to the near unoccupied room.
The room looked different, so much different from the "rooms" before during Enjolras' time. It was finely furnished and well decorated despite the little space that was given to the room. There was a fair amount of dim light that the restraining curtain let pass to the bed. Everything in this room was made with perfection. From the scarlet sheets to the crimson carvings and the snow white pillows, the scent of lavender lingered around the room, and the chilly air had something about it that made men look for company. This is absolutely wrong. Enjolras stood at the door, ready to leave. But unfortunately, no man can resist what this room has to offer, and what the girl inside the room had to offer. "I have to go," said Enjolras, his hand staggering to reach out the doorknob at the back of his view.
He is unleashing every force to resist this. But all she did in response to his statement was discarding the few clothing that was on her, thus, unravelling everything but her chest and her womanhood. Her chestnut locks cascaded over her shoulders as she paced closer to the petrified man. Her black and lacy brassiere and underwear painted a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. Her fingers swept over to his lips as she hushed him, as a direct response. Her eyelashes were painted with light smoky make-up that blended in with her cherry red lips that parted to say a word, "But then I would lose company?" said she in a tempting manner, taking the man's hand with her own icy hands.
He shuddered.
Eponine closed the gap between them as Enjolras' cold sweat was unsettling to his own opinion. But everything around him was unsettling; one time he woke from an abyssal darkness and into a new world, and then at a blink of an eye he suddenly was in front of someone that changed so much since he last saw. But that wasn't any better, because memories came flooding again.
In which temptation evokes memories,
Enjolras' eyes hovered across Cafe Musain, finding a little of what was left from the boys were here; in addition, a scrawny figure that's too lonely to be a loner. The person in rags would always trail around Pontmercy, sometimes he would just wonder: "Why is the person wasting her time?" but by then, he did not even know if it was a girl. Her shoulder-blades, her scars and her purple bruises were too unsettling to ignore; but too personal to be asked.
Oftentimes she would curl-up like a ball at the edge of some busy streets, hoping to shelter and clothe herself; basking in loneliness.
She would often bury her face at the haystacks just to keep her temperature warm from the deathly winter wind.
She would often hum along with the birds using her broken and rasped voice that didn't seem to carry a tune.
Eponine was that mysterious figure that would appear and disappear like a ghoul around Cafe Musain. One time he'll catch a glimpse of her sitting at the rightmost corner; another time she's not even there. But true enough, her figure was paralleled to a ghoul; her shoulder-blades are peeking out of the threadbare overcoat and her face was trimmed with the marks of old age. But there was some remnants of youth that never left her, and it was her eyes. It is her eyes that gazes into soul when looking at Marius; those eyes that gleamed with joy at his minimal and prudish touch.
She was Eponine, and she fell at his barricade. Or did she?
And in which memories resists temptations...
"Sorry, I can't" murmured the man, regaining the self-confidence he always wore. In which he shone clearer than water and brighter than gold, where everything that he did would contribute to the alignment of what's about to come. In which his humanness gave his feet strength to pick up the discarded clothing and hand it over to her. In which no matter what the timeline he was in, he will continue to be him; fighting for the wretched. "I am sorry, Eponine." We're better than this. You're better than this.
He left the room, feeling no tension over what occurred just a while ago, feeling no distress over the things that are new. The questions needed to be resolved more than anything. Why was he here? What happened at the barricades after the occurrence in the wine shop? What is happening in this advanced world? And why is he awoken by fate? What happened to the people around him? What happened to his Patria decades after the June Rebellion? He needed answers, and he will get it in this town.
If anyone was good at his memory, it would be Enjolras; he came back to where the Advocate met. He needed some piece of information, but he was far too exhausted to look for it in this day. "Let's call it a day, I guess," He looked for his room and slept.
Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows plentitude of the soul.
- Gaston Bachelard
Enjolras...
Enjolras woke up, from his slumber, he heard a voice. It called for him. A call similar for a person asking for help; a little whimper. He got up from the new unfamiliar garret the his "fellows" claimed to be his. He traced where the sound was coming, he passed through the wooden floor and a cracking sound was heard, but it wasn't from his side.
Enjolras...
He followed the sounds that came into his basic senses and saw a bright light emerging out of the basement, his senses was near to appalled; yet he mustered every bit of courage that left him after the rebellion. "I've been through worse" thought he.
Enjolras...
He entered the room and the light started to dim out and it retreated back to the lady that's standing opposite his direction, facing the back. The sound of the whimpers ceased and there was nothing heard but the deafening quietude. In some way, it had been frightening, but in some way, there is the curiosity towards the uncanny. "Enjolras," the woman faced him, and the face he saw was mutilated. This sent chills around the system of Enjolras, "...You called?" said he, trying to brave himself. "I believe I did." The woman with mutilated face said. Her face was distorted, yet somehow; her voice was paralleled to a highly refined silk, if made voice. It was not a sing-song voice; it was almost paralleled to what he imagined Patria's voice would be. "America cries for help and I will explain everything to you," said she, her face slowly regenerating and the scars are slightly disappearing.
The scars and every traces of imperfection was gone now; she looked like the statue that stood somewhere in the city, that it was brighter than gold and glory; it was almost blinding just by looking at the woman. "You were called by the century, because of the plausible leadership and bravery you have executed during the June Rebellion." She paused and stared at the confused man, "Once you wake up, you'll have no memory of this, but you will know the things I will explain to you about this modern world you are in." She stood in a lower height, to match with Enjolras' height. "The world is threatened once again by the corrupt forces of the government, and they are using their elite group named: Empire." She continued, "Empire is a top confidential group with its members chosen only from the finest of the finest. Their identities remain hidden. But you know a few of them," he gave a questioning look. "Because you are the leader of the opposing team, the Advocate; you've chose only those of people who you knew that would help the top-secret organization elevate. And thus, reveal the corruption of the government," the lady continued, "As for about using the modern technology, you'll know about it when you wake." The lady started to fade, "Be careful and keep watch," she disappeared before Enjolras could even ask her a few things.
Good luck, my friend.
Hope is a waking dream
- Aristotle
Enjolras woke up, having no remnants of his dream but knew immediately things. He knew about the Empire, he knew about the Advocate, and he knew about the growing chasm between the society that would soon spread pestilence like a rapidly growing disease.
America needs help.
That's all that was stuck in his mind like a last sound syndrome.
He looked at the calendar and realized that it was Saturday; the day where everyone goes out for a break. And Advocate mostly in groups; oftentimes they would go to the club at everyone's request, but often led by Grantaire's endless pleads. But that was where trouble found him when Eponine decided to approach him.
Eponine?
The main goal of the future is to stop violence; the world is addicted to it.
- Bill Cosby
He hit her.
Eponine felt the heavy weight of Montparnasse' palm against her cheek, again. "Tell me again, that you did not get any of the information from Enjolras?" he said, banging his heavy palm against the rectangle high-technology table used by their organization, "Why didn't you try you best?" said he, in a calm undertone. He was in rage; she broke his temper.
She stood at one corner, mouth completely shut. If there was something that Eponine continually learn from Empire, is that she should keep her mouth sealed. Talking back was never an option, especially to Montparnasse. "Eponine, did you ever realize what those information meant?" he said, a whisper barely above scream, "That if you would do the same trick again and again, he would notice!" he took both of her arms and pinned her to the wall, sweating in rage. Montparnasse was breathing heavily because of the failed mission that their important member failed; a mission that could never be re-done, due to the possibility of Enjolras never coming back to the club. "You do know that every failure and mistake you make; there is an equivalent punishment," whispered Montparnasse in a sensual manner. Her eyes widened at this statement, "Not now, Montparnasse, ple-"he raised his right brow, "I always get what I want Eponine, and you do know of course that resistance is futile?" she rolled her eyes in secrecy as Montparnasse dragged her to his room.
Following the orders of Empire was an utter significance for Eponine; it was them who raised her out of the streets and fed her and her siblings. That doesn't come without a price even so, the government saw great potential in her intellectual skills and good figure; they trained her to be a member of the project Empire.
The torment of precautions often exceeds the dangers to be avoided. It is sometimes better to abandon one's self to destiny.
- Napoleon Bonaparte
Montparnasse won the special promo of the club today, and he gets to bed the girl that the club doesn't sell, yet brags so much about. He needed to try this girl. He saw her dance in the stripping corner, but he never got to touch her; because the rules forbade it.
He entered the room that had the alluring scent of lavender, as the rosy petals strode along the path leading to the crimson sheeted bed that's decorated with gold linings. He saw her beside the bed, in a position that isn't welcoming to its customers. Some attitude lingered around her that he didn't see from other hookers. "Interesting," he mouthed.
"Listen boy, I'm only here because my manager told me that this has a triple pay for me," she looked at her watch, "-so please, don't you waste the precious time," stated the girl as she discarded everything but her lacy one pieced underclothing, and did the same with Montparnasse.
As fast as it was expected to be; they screamed together in fierce pleasure that satisfaction only approached one. Her underclothing was not fully discarded when they finished, for it was a quick one.
Since that fateful day, he'd been a regular at the club.
He saw it in her; the great potential. But it's not only him who saw it, but everyone in the government that's related to Empire and the Empire itself. They agreed to approach Eponine and offer her everything she ever needed just to join the "Empire." She agreed. She would still work in the club, but that would be because it was needed to hide her identity.
He was kind to her at first.
But that sugar-coated lie did not last for too long; but even so, she owed him and the Empire a great deal. Sheltering her siblings, feeding them and clothing them with luxury, it's all that she ever wanted for them.
Whatever the dangers of the action we take, the dangers of inaction are far, far greater.
- Tony Blair
To be continued...