Jayie-The-Hufflepuff

Descent into Hatred prolouge     The sun was crawling down the quickly darkening sky, leaving a blood-red trail behind it. A tall gray rock cut through the sky, the tip pointing up towards the heavens. There was a cave that cut into the side of this rock. Inside, a pale tan lioness lay on her side, two tiny cubs nursing at her side. Two lions stood over her. One was a dark tan male with a brown mane and pale brown eyes. The second was a pale tan cub with wide brown eyes. She looked down at the younger cubs with curiosity in her eyes.     The tan male spoke. "They're beautiful, Shari." His eyes were filled with

Beauty in Beastly Times part 3 We left two days later. Mother hardly spoke a word the whole time. Uncle Paul could be seen throughout the house those two days, gloating in gleeful silence. I glared at him every chance I got. This man had driven us from our home and didn't even appear to feel guilty. The fact that we shared blood would forever shame me. Mother found us a small, affordable place near the outskirts of Paris. I think she wanted to be as far from Uncle Paul as possible. When we got to the new place, I could hardly believe my eyes. We didn't have our own house anymore. Instead it was a simple room in a place full of rooms. We co

Javert was not having a good day. He was in the small town of Montfermeil with two of his colleagues. They had been tracking a cutthroat, but the trail had grown cold. The man was nowhere to be found. One of his colleagues, a man named Inspector Benoit, suggested, "Let's stop at that inn over there. It's not like we'll get any more work done tonight." Javert inclined his head stiffly in agreement. "Very well." He agreed grudgingly. He hated to end the chase, but there was no point in going off in the dark after a man who could be anywhere. They stepped into the Waterloo Inn and were instantly greeted by a rat-faced man. "Good evening offi

It was nearing the end of the day, with the sky an orange-pink hue. Winter was clearly approaching, sending brisk gusts of wind every so often as if to remind that it would arrive soon. Three young men walked the streets of Paris that night. One was a blond man with clear blue eyes and the face of an angel. His gaze was calm and penetrating, as if he could see into the hearts of all men. He was Enjolras, ever-devoted to freedom and to his homeland. The second was a tall, curly-haired man with clean, expensive apparel and a permanent gleam of mischief in his dark eyes. Courfeyrac may have been a ladies man and a joker, but he could care quit