Bienvenue! I'm Felicité Bonnefois, or Felice if you prefer. I am the female representation of la République française~ ((Independent RP blog for Nyotalia France. I also apologize in advance for butchered French. Please correct me if you find any errors! Also smut. I will RP it. My current icon was drawn by bridmpreg and is being used with permission--)) Creepers Creeping
“Felice then,” he repeated before complimenting. “Fortune and happiness. What a lovely name.”
He buried his hands in the depths of his pocket and kept his gaze chastely lowered to the ground, only sparing a glance over at the woman every so often. She seemed very lost into her own thoughts as well. He wondered what may have been bothering her, but Enjolras knew better than to pry where he didn’t belong. Contrary to popular belief, on the other hand, he had the capability of being a good listener when needed. At Felice’s next question, Enjolras couldn’t help but snort lightly as he shook his head.
“Bars aren’t my scene. I already have enough woes dealing with an acquaintance slash recovering alcoholic of mine—Grantaire. I was actually at the library reading. It’s my preferred hobby. Though you say ‘young man’ as if we aren’t around the same age.” His tone rose a little, in what could be best described as friendly banter.
The Frenchwoman smiled softly at the compliment, relaxing a bit. If this somehow was the student from so long ago, he still had a way with words.
“…Grantaire?” Felice paused a moment. Oh, no. If God was indeed playing a trick on her, this wasn’t funny at all. It was from him that Felice had heard about the other revolutionaries, after offering him a few glasses of wine. He was such a troubled boy; Felice hoped that he was doing better this time around, if her suspicions were correct.
Tense again, Felice continued. “Ah, right…sorry,” she chuckled nervously. “You just…Look a bit younger than you are, I suppose.” The nation hoped that answer would satisfy him, smiling slightly to hide the memories currently running through her mind.
✩ = You’re my tumblr crush.
♡ = I love your tumblr.
✄ = I love you.
✾ = I want to fuck you.
♘ = You’re hot.
☁ = You’re beautiful.
☂ = You check out my blog.
♕ = You inspire me.
♔ = I wish we talked.
☯ = I wish we were friends in real life.
✖ = You’re ugly.
☢ = I don’t like you.
✡ = I hate you.
☠: Your blog sucks, bitch.
Use this: // for mun.
and this: ” for muse. :)
So I know who it’s for.
I want something
“Enjolras. Julien Enjolras,” he introduced himself, his first name falling from his lips as an afterthought.
“I am known to most as simply Enjolras. And if I could ask for your name, madame?”
He joined her side as they walked step by step together. Past the initial awkwardness, Enjolras still felt oddly comfortable with her. As if he could speak to her about anything and she would listen and understand with a nod and warm smile. There really wasn’t anyone else that he felt as ease with besides Combeferre. It was strange, but not unwanted all at the same time.
Felice paused after hearing the boy’s name.
“…Enjolras.” she murmured to herself. Either this was a coincidence or God was playing a cruel trick on her. At this moment, the latter seemed more likely.
“…Felicité Bonnefois,” Felice quickly responded, in order not to seem too startled by his name. “You can call me Felice, if you like.” She smiled at him as he moved to her side and continued to walk. Images of that day in June, the still faces of students with so much life ahead of them, flashed through her mind.The Frenchwoman tried to remain relatively at ease, however. Hopefully the slight tension in her voice was unnoticeable to Julien’s ears.
“So…” she began, mostly trying to alleviate her own tension, “What brings you out so late all by yourself? Shouldn’t a young man like you be out at a bar or something?”