children of the revolution // closed, started!

[lacke]

☤ ＫＯＲＡＫ ＶＡＮＴＡＳ
─────────────────────────────────

[ role medic tagged emmeline, rocky, lucrece, taja ]

while the young man was usually a strict rule follower, there was one thing he had to do everyday before the sun rose. he exited his make shift home, the one he stayed at alone. in his left hand, he clutched a mix of about four tulips, one white, one red, one orange and one yellow. he glanced around quickly as he exited, making sure nobody saw him. he quickly made his way down the street, turning quickly into an alleyway, clutching the flowers in one hand, an anonymous letter in the other. he knew the dangers, not just being out before curfew, but being out in general. often people were violent and carried weapons, but korak refused to. he was proficient in the healing area rather than the fighting, and like most doctors, he too took an oath to do no harm. of course, he never went to school for it, but it was custom to take the oath of doing no harm. korak took another sharp turn around the corner of a large building, coming across a smallish patch of grass. next to it, he crouched, and placed his flowers down, drawing his hand to his mouth, planting a kiss on it, before touching it to the ground. he stood, and left.

it didn't take him long to come close to the coffee shop the letter he held signified. quickly stopping in the shade of another building, korak glanced nervously around, before making his way towards the abandoned building. he stopped cold in his tracks, however, seeing a few other figures beginning to congregate near the shop. he watched closely, before noting that a female held up a note, which looked much like his. korak cautiously began to approach them, beginning to raise his letter for them to see.

[itsprettymuch]

T A J A
♧﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏♧
expert | mood- impatient | tags- rocky,emme,lucrece,korak | @ coffee shop

Still not uttering a word, Taja watched as another person appeared within the shadows. It appeared to be a girl as she stepped into the light beamed upon by the street lights. The brunette seemed to have met this guy standing before her, on the way here as the two of them ended up at the shop. "Who else?" The brunette asked as she held up a letter. It seemed as though she wasn't the only one. Then again, the letter probably mentioned more people. However, according to Taja skipping through letters was her specialty. "Guess you're part of this little get together too" Taja said with a straight face. Folding up her arms, she turned her head making sure no gaurds crept up on them. Taja heard a few faint footsteps from a distance and she quickly turned her head into the direction of the sound. Another guy walked out from within the shadows. He then held up a letter. "five." Taja said slightly, counting how many of them were at this coffee shop. She sighed wondering how long she'd have to wait for everyone to finally arrive. Along with the mystery person

[The Grey Stuff]

((typed up on my phone; will add coding later))

Blanche had never been this far away from home unescorted.

Embarrassing? Perhaps. But was she going to let it stop her? Certainly not. She had never been more sure of anything...well, actually, this wasn't true. Not in the slightest. She was never sure of anything; she was as flaky as they come. But she could feel very strong desires, powerful fervor, a nervous energy pulsing within her which bade her follow her impulses to the ends of the earth. Moments, that's what she was made of. All it took was a few brief moments of fiery ardor to get her on her feet and out the bedroom window. All it took was an instant of passion and conviction to get her to throw caution to the wind. All it took was a measley second, for her to decide that her life was worth risking, and a shady letter worth trusting, and an even shadier abandoned cafe worth traveling to. Anything to get rid of this awful restlessness, this hopeless need for something greater, something more.

She needed this the way a cat needs a creamy bowl full of milk: Badly. And, like a cat, she was going to do it with as much feline grace as possible. The first step, of course, was to outfit herself appropriately. And so, at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning, she had roused herself and stepped up to her wooden armoire, to find the clothes most suited to sneaking out before curfew.

In spite of the fact that she was a noble bastard, Blanche still wanted for nothing, at least in the most figurative sense of the phrase. There actually was one thing she wanted that her wealthy father would never he able to buy her, and this was a romantic adventure, a grand quest to reunite herself with her Parisian beloved. Her beloved... She allowed her eyelids to flutter closed in a daydream, her thick lashes to brush against her soft cheeks, her pink lips to curl up in a dreamy, half-conscious smile. She could still recall his touch, his scent, the way he had looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world, as if she were the sunset itself... Oh, if only to have him look at her that way again! The way the moon beams upon the tidal waves! To feel his eyes on her again... she would trade the eyes of everyone in the household.

4:10. But she had to focus. Opening the armoire as quietly as possible (which, as it turned out, was not very; every hinge in the building could do with some oiling in her humble opinion), she swept her gaze over the various garments available to her. Much to her dismay, the vast majority of her wardrobe seemed to be splattered with pastels. Hardly a smidgeon of black in sight, which she knew was the ideal color for sneaking out in the dark of early morning. After much digging around and rummaging, she managed to throw together a half-decent ensemble. She found a black jacket to wear over her white tank top, and a black skirt which was fairly easy to move around in. She had not managed to find her black stockings, and, with nothing else to keep her legs warm, had to settle for some cream colored leggings; on top of these, she wore black boots, which were not ideal for running in, but then again, she owned no sneakers or sporty shoes of any kind. She did up her hair in a half-ponytail, just to keep it out of the general vicinity of her face.

Feeling incredibly underprepared but also fabulous as she swung one leg over the window sill, Blanche touched a hand to her jacket pocket, just to make sure she still had the letter. There lingered at the back of her mind the possibility that it could be a trap. But at this point, she truly didn't care. She hated her father, and any life where she couldn't be with her lover wasn't a life worth living. So they could do what they liked to her; they could kill her. She didn't care. Of course, naive as she was, she didn't consider that they might torture her for breaking curfew, didn't consider any of the darker implications for her misdemeanors. Of course not. All she could think of in that moment were her impulses, her defiant spirit. Had someone perhaps forced her to take a seat and really think this through, she might have reconsidered. But this was simply what happened when she was left to her own devices, left alone with her thoughts.

As her boots clicked softly against the asphalt, she couldn't help but admire the brilliance of the moon. She was so prone to be distracted by beauty that she wasn't nearly as alert as she should have been. Quite fortunately for her, no guards were in the area at the time. And oddly enough, though this was her first time really breaking curfew, Blanche felt strangely detached. As if she were walking in a dream. This was her way; she wouldn't get nervous or start to sweat until the danger was right in front of her, and by then it was always nearly too late. Nearly. And she always got away by the skin of her teeth. Would such be the nature of tonight's escapade? Time would tell.

At long last, she came to a stop in front of the designated meeting place: the café. Interesting choice, she thought to herself. But really, it only makes me want coffee.

It did not escape her attention that there were whispers nearby, and, creeping ever closer, she leaned in, straining to hear yet trying to remain out of sight for now. Who were these people? Were they the ones she was supposed to rendezvous with? And why had they chosen her? Was this a trick? Quite suddenly, the possibility that this was a trap seemed as real as it had all night, or as real as it ever would seem for the rest of the day. Her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, heaving, drawing in lungfuls of pure anxiety. She pressed her back to the wall and shook her head. Her resolve had left her. I'll just go home. This was a stupid idea, she thought to herself miserably, and began to repeat it over and over in her head. I'll just go home.

[White Eagle]

Jean-Claude Lionel Cortes de Toro
Role: The Traitor ~ Age: 18 ~ Gender: Male ~ Rank: Duke of Leon, Castile and Aquitaine ~ Location: The Café ~ Tags: Taja, Rockford, Emmeline and Lucréce

After attending a ball the young duke left to his southern estate while his parents went to live in Versailles with the king's court. Jean-Claude was sick to his stomach every time he visited the palace because the king looked at him like he was a prize winning horse. The ball was a springtime ball which showed the new designers and clothing lines for this season and of course he had to be a either a designer or a model. Jean-Claude of course chose a easier job so he modeled for Calvin Klein.

Later when the shoot ended he felt queasy which caused him to throw up in the bathroom. What made things worse was that he had to sit next to the king's daughter which she practically was a nice girl but was blinded by a mirror than a see through window. She saw the class division as a positive for everyone, basically an acceptation of the phrase, 'separate but equal'. The Franco-Hispania Duke found greed and sloth as her sin and the most dangerous sin she tried so hard to hide was pride.

Anyway back to now he was still wearing a grey polo shirt, black flex jeans, and a Calvin Klein white jacket with matching Timberlands. His blue Tesla parked itself in front of a French Chateau [link removed] with a French and Spanish flag in the front. Stepping out he walked toward his mailbox. After opening it he discovered a written letter addressed to him. "How strange." Looking at the wax seal and its ornate writing caused the young man to question if he should open this. Once inside he head straight to his office to get his letter opener. "Okay, let's see what you got me into." The paper was pristine and crisp while the words were easy on the eyes as he read what it requested for him to do. Instantly he dropped the letter on the carpet and headed straight to his car. "Who found out?......Calm down let's get this over with." Looking at the clock it said 12:47 am. 'I got time to make a few stops.'

Before leaving Paris he decided to get items that would be useful if something bad happened. Adrenaline soon kicked in as he headed to the gate with his Tesla. Being the king's crowning jewel he is given diplomatic immunity and free access in and out of Paris. The guards looked at the Duke as he pulled up. "Monsieur (Mister), may I leave," he asked as he handed his identity card which they instantly lifted the gates. "Je vous remercie, bonne nuit (Thank you, good night)." With that he was now in the slums of France which looked grey and miserable. It was currently 3:29 am which shocked him but he continue on to the location.

Normally he would be lost but he soon found the location within fifteen minutes. He decided to park the car at a guard post and walk two blocks down the location with his two bags. Once entering he noticed it was empty so he sat in the corner where no light came in from. Within fifteen to twenty minutes he witness people emerge into the coffee shop. Confusion was the mood on everyone's faces and the anticipation of getting caught. Jean-Claude has witness enough so he decided to show his presence by pouring coffee and opening his basket and pulling out macaroons and cinnamon rolls. The sweeet fragrance of pastries instantly spread throughout the room. "Let's get this over with shall we? Which one of you sent me the letter? First one who talks gets some food. Now talk!" Once he uttered the command he stood with eyes pinned on the 'team'. Being thought of as a rebel is not joke because if they figured it out then how much longer with king soon follow?

[meadow.]

E M M E L I N E
tagged: basically everyone at this point // where: the cafe // feeling: frightened // time: approximately 5:00am
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

xxxxxxxxEmmeline's blood swam in her ears. She couldn't even hear anything around her besides her own heart beating. This was all just too much for her, and food was so hard to come by, especially when all her money went to her niece, living with a foster family miles away. She sent everything she could to her late sister's daughter, and kept almost nothing to herself. Lack of food made her skittish, and rather irritable.

xxxxxxxxWhen a stranger stepped out of the shadows, making demands and waving around more pastries that Emmeline had seen in her life, the girl reacted a little too quickly. She drew a short knife from the inside of her shoe and brandished it as if it were the sword Excalibur.

xxxxxxxx"Who are you?" She asked, her voice hostile as her eyes fixed on the food he'd brought. Slowly, she asked, "Where'd you get that, pretty boy? That all looks like it came from inside the walls... which means so did you." She looked him over briefly before fixing her gaze on the treats again. "You dress like old money, you know that? How do I know you're not here to get us all arrested?" Surely she couldn't be the only one who'd had this thought. Everyone else who'd arrived so far seemed to be people like her, and suddenly they were faced with this newcomer... The idea that he might have come from inside the walls alone made her heart pound, and that combined with the fact that he might be there to kill her or her new friends made her blood boil.

xxxxxxxxEmme was dizzy with anger, and trembling as if she might faint at any moment. She could've looked far more menacing, but she mustered all she could. Those people inside the walls had killed her parents, and her sisters. Her entire family was wiped out by people like this guy, who thought he could make bribes and demands in exchange for information. He had enough food and money that he could just throw it away. That didn't seem fair at all.

xxxxxxxx"We don't know who sent the letters," She growled. "We don't know any more than you do."

[if found]

[selena chartreuse] | [leader] | [@ outside cafe] | [tags; open-]
─────────────────────────────────

Code: Select all

[center][[i]selena chartreuse[/i]] | [[i]leader[/i]] | [[i]x[/i]] | [[i]tags; open-[/i]]
─────────────────────────────────[/center]

ignore, please ^^

out before curfew? not a problem to selena. what was, though, was the letter that arrived and passed into her hands,
with her name inscribed on it, with directions to a cafe she was standing outside of now.

Selena, it wrote,
I have reached to you (with difficulty) as to tell you what may not come as a surprise: There is a danger beyond the walls of Paris.
But outside the walls is something more powerful is present.
I would like to ask if you could arrive to the following address, in which you will meet a collection of bright young rebels like yourself.Everyone has received a letter, just the same.
You are to be the leader, a strong voice unwilling to back down. I have no doubt that you can't do it. A good leader listens to her peers, but is not afraid to take control.
From the Revolution.

a quick peek inside told selena that people were in there. perhaps the others that the letter mentioned.
but her? the leader of a pack of strangers?
selena pushed her light pink hair out of her face, and opened the door, greeted by a smell.
well hello.

[champ goldie]

┌─────────────┐
♛ 𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙺𝚈 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝚁 ♛
└─────────────┘
SPY | W/ everyone in the cafe
"cut to the chase (sometimes literally)"

Rocky stood inside the run down cafe like a bored toddler. He kept pacing around and touching various shadowy, dusty scraps of broken furniture and fixture. the entire shack of a building was obviously competing to be the next destination for trick or treaters in the future since it looked like a structure straight out of a spooky movie. It entirely excited Rocky. That's probably why he was holding back a grin the entire time.
That, and the nervous girl who he'd met earlier was walking through the broken door. She was feisty--rocky's favorite flavor in women. He just shrugged and smirked at her comment.

she asked who else was gathered there because of the letter, and it forced Rocky to look around, scanning every face in the wrecked cafe. He made note that everyone seemed wildly different from each other. Like whoever decided to send the letters was looking to cast a very diverse set of individuals. He assumed their skill range also varied from person to person judging from their style of clothes and hair alone.

a fifth member of the party walked in right when they'd all established they were meant to be there by holding up letters. Rocky gave the person a curt wave and knowing smile. his curiosity was killing him at that point and he really wanted to know who'd gathered them all there.

the real winner of the night was the model guy who walked in wearing clothes from a catalog. way to be covert? at least rocky was smart enough to dress down for the visit even if he had a life inside the walls, too.
his overall presence annoyed rocky in a way he couldn't describe. oh wait, he could: smug, cocky and aware he's hot. why did hot guys always have to be aware of said hotness?
he crossed his arms and watched as new guy pulled some treats from his basket (which hopefully weren't poisoned). Rocky was someone who stuck to their morals (even if there were few of them left) and kept to his principles. he did not like new guy, but he DID like pastries. so he of course reached for one, shrugging off the initial dislike.
"I didn't send the letters but I got one." When he snatched a pastry and he smiled, adding; "I technically spoke first." he bit into the food and stepped back, letting the feisty friend from earlier explode at him. thank goodness he got his sweets first. He didn't want to end up with a knife in his back.

Rocky pulled the food from his mouth and spoke while chewing and waving his hands downward, pastry still in his right hand. "whoa there scary spice, no need for weapons."

the angst in the room was cranked to an eleven thanks to knifey, there. just as it was beginning to fade, a head peeked inside the cafe. A girl who gave a simple 'well hello'. He nearly cackled at the introduction since it was just high stress a mere second ago. Rocky forced his baked food on Emmeline to distract from her knife rage. She had zero choice and was now holding a delightful pink bread concoction that he had every intention to get back to.
"hold that real quick because you need a breather." he said really casually as he walked over to the newest addition.
"You've arrived at the perfect time. Are you the one who sent the letters?" he asked, squinting at the girl and placing his hands on his hips in a relaxed fashion.

[itsprettymuch]

T A J A
♧﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏♧
expert | mood - informative | tags- everyone | @ coffee shop

Taja kept her mouth shut as some people awkwardly walked into the cafe and others came in and demanded for answers. "Obviously if he's dressed in a suit" Taja stated with a roll to her eyes as she referred to the well dressed man that brung in pastries. The brunette was asking questions that weren't necessary and obvious statements. It made Taja slightly shake her head and smirk as she looks at the girl. The smell of fresh baked pastries filled the room, but Taja wasn't tempted to eat any as it intertwined with the scent of ashes and dust. She ate a couple hours ago and unlike most people, Taj can go hours without eating. Taja sighed and walked around looking for a decent place to sit. Unfortunately, its was nothing but dust covering the ugly furniture. "And besides, what gaurd do you know comes fresh and clean in Calvin Klein?" She continued with her rhetorical question.

Taja listened to everyone's conversations. Her smartphone chimed loudly in the abandoned café signalling a notification. Possibly a reminder of some sort. She hadn't quite started on social media so she didn't expect an alert from such kind. Taja took it out of her pocket not caring who all saw or who'd be surprised at how she got one. She had an alert about new technology coming into the country within the next few weeks due to her news report app on her phone. "Hmm." Taja said as she read the French article. New guns were being made and transported slowly to different countries. France being the fourth to get this technology, with the US, Russia, and the Korea in front of them. Taja stopped reading in mid sentence as a feminine voice entered the room. Taja looked up without lifting her head wondering if this would finally be the leader. "Hi." Taja greeted before looking back down at her phone.

Once she finished reading the article, she marked the date on her calendar when the new technology would be transported into France and then cut the phone off as she slid the phone back into her pocket. "Well, I honestly don't know about you guys but, um.." a faint laugh escaped her as she clasped her hands together "this whole standing around, looking clueless and waiting for this anonymous person that is OBVIOUSLY not here right now and OBVIOUSLY neither one of us..." Taja gestured a hand out and swiftly swung round as she referred to everyone in the room, not technically pointing but sort of, oh what the heck you get the idea right? Anyway, she clasped her hands together once again and continued on with her ice breaker. "...is just like, really? Why don't we just start introducing ourselves and explain our roles, shall we? The letter said everyone had a role anyway."

Taja looked around speaking to everyone and making eye contact with them. She brushed some of her teal hair out of her face and behind her ear. "The name is Taja. Taja Carter. Im an expert. THE expert I should say. I know everything there is to know about all this new technology." Taja pulled out her phone again showing it in case someone didn't see it when she first had it out. Once she saw everyone has looked at it she shoved it back into her pocket. "Yes I have that, and I assume the Duke over here has one as well." Taja said. Referring to the well dressed guy standing with them. She knew he was the duke from this interesting network known as the internet. The duke may not know about her, but she sure knew about him. Thanks to the internet of course. Taja didn't want to explain how she knew who the duke was until after she finished talking.

"If you need a gun, someone's background check, hacking, a phone, I'm your girl." Taja grined showing her deep dimples. "Don't call me geeky or techy because there will be a problem. And I won't need the use of words or hands." Taja stated as she indirectly told them how much of an easy access she had to these newly profound weapons. Knives and blades were so old Taja, guns were soon her new favorite weapon once she knew about them. "Questions?" Taj asked with a bit of sass. Her ash gray eyes eyed the people in the room, although they looked pretty black as it was shady withing the crumbly building.

[bohdi]

❀ＬＵＣＲＥＣＥ ＳＹＬＶＡＩＮ
━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━
[ fugitive, feeling cautious. tagged - the crew ]

"We all got letters, congratulations. Now stop waving them around like permission slips." He grumbled, leaning against a concrete slab of the ceiling. He had pulled himself out of his decent hiding spot when the others had entered the shop, staying a few feet away. It was clear that none of them were going to rat anyone out, their nervous looks and shoulder checks were obvious of that. Lucréce was well aware of the fancy Parisian. What a way to draw any guards attention. The man could have at least dressed down for this occasion. Picking his own folded letter out of his pocket, he balled it up and tossed it to the ground. No sense of keeping it now, if all the receivers were here. He didn't like meeting like this. Frowning, he looked around at the misfit group. There wasn't much on the surface by the looks of it, but he secretly hoped this revolution would play out nicely. It was about time something happened.

Several members of this ragtag gang spoke at once, throwing accusations about gathering all of them together, greetings and introductions around. He didn't like the tone the Parisian spoke in, demanding and punctual. The girl with the coloured hair, Taja, was very blunt and forward. A nice asset he would appreciate. She prattled on about knowing technology, even brandishing her own phone. Too bad this shop didn't serve coffee or something anymore, this might be an interesting meeting. The conversations died down as Taja continued on, ending her debut with an invitation to question her. He remained quiet. He didn't have anything to add to her speech. Not as if it mattered at that moment. What mattered was they knew of one another and were prepared for what ever was going to come. For all they knew, someone could have seen them slinking around and reported them to the guards who could very well be on their way. He knew how to avoid them, yet he had his suspicions about the rest of the group.

[The Grey Stuff]

Blanche-Niege Rousseau || The Lover || Age 18 || Form || Location: The Coffee Shop || Tags: Basically Everyone

They talked, and Blanche listened, her back still pressed against the wall, just around the corner out of sight. At first, it seemed to be the usual questions and inquiries, or, as usual as questions could be expected to be under such circumstances. "Who sent the letter?" and "Who are you?" and the like. None of it initially gave off a particularly threatening vibe; still, that was before one of them pulled a knife. Blanche knew it was a knife, because when she heard the tone of voice start to change and caught the whiff of something hot and sweet, she pushed off the wall (it was more of a counter, actually) just enough to get a glimpse of the weapon, as well as all the other members of the party.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the young man with the pastries, for no other reason than the fact that he was so richly dressed. And anyone decked in such finery must have come from within the walls! Paris! And a duke at that, according to the girl with the striking teal hair. That girl had pulled out a phone, which made Blanche question whether she was from within the walls as well. She certainly wasn't dressed as finely as the man in the white jacket, but that didn't mean anything. Everybody knew that breaking curfew was risky enough as it was. No need to draw more attention to yourself by wearing such gaudy threads. The girl with the knife definitely wasn't from within the walls, if the way she held that weapon and the way she kept glancing at the pastries was any indication. One of the other boys had apparently wasted no time in helping himself to said pastries, but Blanche was not hungry for anything she could put in her stomach. What was important was, where there were Parisians, there was a way to get to the heart of Paris, to get to the place she needed so badly to go, the place she couldn't get to by herself, not without being legitimized nobility. He could perhaps help her get in. But it would be hopeless if the guy got shanked before she could talk to him.

Forgetting her fear, throwing caution to the wind, the young girl practically jumped in between the knife and the rich boy. "Stop," she said, as fiercely as she could while still maintaining a low volume. "Don't!" She snapped her head to the side, and her caramel curls bounced as she locked gazes with the Duke. "...You're from inside the walls?"