Do you hear the people sing

Posted on Fri Dec 27th, 2024 @ 6:25 by Alistair Quill & Claire Cavendish & Almaz Awate & Hamish McClean & Liana Zhao & Quinn Kelly & General Heinrich Falkenrath & Shauna Murphy

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Avalon Institute, The Bastions
Timeline: Afternoon, Friday, January 5th, 1993
2610 words - 5.2 OF Standard Post Measure

It seemed as though the entire country was dreary and grey with the current state of affairs. At what was supposedly the warmest moment in the day the wind was whipping around the gathered group of students at the top of the wall. Rumours had been flying around the institute about what their Head Mistress would be doing about the arrest warrent that was put out after her very public refusal of registering and offering refuge in the institute to any that wanted to avoid the new law themselves. There had been a couple that had voluntarily registered, some had been pushed to do so by their legal guardians. The largest population within Avalon had followed in their Head Teacher's footsteps.

There had been discussions, heated discussions. At one point the idea was raised to simply all go out there in an effort to go the 'I am Spartacus' route. It was eventually dismissed as more and more reinforcements seemed to join the barricade set up by the G.O.U. making them more than capable of simply arresting and moving every single one of them.

"Are you sure it's going to go down today?" The young mutant was wrapped in a scarf, woollen coat, and thick mittens. He looked around the group that had convinced him to be out here today. They needed his particular talents to make this impressive. There was no movement in the camp just off the bridge. There was similarly no movement inside the institute's courtyard either. Then again their Head Teacher could make it all the way to New Cresthill and back without anyone ever seeing her.

"That's what I heard," spoke probably the youngest of the assembled, though you wouldn't guess by looking at her. Standing easily as tall and proud as the eldest of the students, the dark-skinned girl carried herself with a steely expression. All business. Her sunglasses off, to show the electricity arcing to her brows and the bridge of her nose, though she still kept her rubberized gloves on. "I know I've been practicing," she added. She wasn't much of a singer, but then, this wasn't a Broadway performance intended to wow. It was intended to send a message.

"It will happen today. Soon, actually."

Though just as capable as their headmistress at keeping her identity hidden if she chose, Shauna had opted for the more rustic shelter of a fur-lined hood and a scarf that covered half her expression. The intent wasn't so much to remain anonymous as it was to avoid freezing her face off but since the woollen hat crammed down over her ears also smothered the distinctive colour of her hair, the effect was much the same. She had spent the last few minutes staring vacantly across at the camp, brows furrowed as the piercing blue of her gaze tracked the occasional swirl of detritus from the frozen ground. So far, the wind's whimsy was the only source of movement but it was only a matter of time. Given her reputation for information gathering, Shauna's confidence alone practically guaranteed it.

Quinn said nothing after joining the group of students. Most easily described as emo by default, the effeminate boy had been especially dour of late. Things were starting to feel a bit too close to home for the native Ulsterite, and the constant press of current events, combined with the emotionally charged atmosphere of the school were starting to wear on his nerves to the point where he knew he looked as frayed and withdrawn as he felt. Why were they up on the ramparts? Quinn considered as he ran hand in vain through his now-hopelessly windblown hair. All he knew was that his friends had practically dragged him there. His friends had been like that of late... and just wouldn't leave him alone. Naturally that made him want to be alone, but he knew himself well enough to know what that would lead--doom spiralling, as his mind predicted outcomes, primarily using memories of growing up in a deeply divisive society.

There was a bit of unrest among the rest of the gathered students. The confidence with which Shauna spoke resonated with them in a way that made this moment all the more real. Alistair knew not to reach out for Shauna or to seek to hold her hand in this moment. She had been so focused on this moment ever since first learning of it that he had felt a bit of distance growing between them. Of course they had schemed this together, but it was always a matter of him just holding on for dear life.

Oliver had noticed a large group of the students making their way to the ramparts as he had just been coming back from tending the tomato plants in the greenhouse. Tomato plants required a lot of attention, especially when you were growing them out of season. They were finicky bastards. Not having a clue as to why they were going there, or even where exactly that would be, he gave a short jog to catch up with the gathered crowd of students. "What's going on?"

Before anyone could answer the large double doors to the institute swung open. Several journalists that were keeping a close eye on it with tele-lenses immediately stirred, something that created a domino effect for all the other gathered folk there. After the unrest in New Cresthill earlier that day they'd been expecting a response from Avalon's head teacher.

If ever there was a moment that Claire had dressed to the T's it was this moment. Her hair was in the neatest bun she had managed in a long time. Her make-up was on point. The long black overcoat was open in front to show the jade dress underneath. Even on the pebbles of the courtyard she elegantly walked forward on black pumps with red soles. Her eyes only momentarily flicked upward towards where the students had gathered. She wasn't going to be able to address that now, and had they given it more of a heads up there would've certainly been more students up on the ramparts rather than less. She continued her walk across the courtyard. "Make sure they don't do anything stupid during my absence." She spoke to Liana, who had walked out next to her.

"As if all of this isn't challenging enough." The counsellor's gaze lingered on the assembled student body for a moment before Liana wrenched her attention back to her friend. Between the pair of them, there wasn't even the tiniest flaw in posture to denote a moment's hesitation, and yet as always it was difficult for the graceful brunette to hide the concern in her eyes. "We will do what we need to to ensure we're all here to welcome you back. Do you have everything?"

A suspiciously large raven landed on the peak of a nearby roof, watching the goings-on with intelligent eyes. Attention split seemingly between the gathering of students and the shenanigans they were up to, and Claire looking sophisticated and purposeful.

Several of younger students who had gathered shot faintly disbelieving looks in Shauna's direction, about the only ones assembled still capable of being surprised by the accuracy of the girl's intel. She had learned long ago that if she didn't explain too much, it came across as clairvoyance which left people unsettled and wary, but the truth involved far more ground work and actual first-hand observations from the sanctuary of extreme discretion. Her chin lifted a little as she watched the head mistress emerge, and since the entire plan involved being heard, she reached up to unwind her scarf to reveal her face, leaving it draped over her shoulder. "Wait until she starts walking," she murmured to the opening soloist, upon whose talents the entire plan hinged.

The large gates towards the bridge opened up in front of Claire. Liana still in tow. The head teacher took in a deep breath and straightened her back. Then she started to walk the short distance across the water.

Alistair wasn't the most skilled or confident singer in the bunch but he had been the one that had been willing to take the lead. he swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and then cleared it with a cough for good measure as he saw Claire starting to make her way across. He gave a nod to the fully wrapped up student by his side. The air in front of his mouth seemed to jitter as the soundwaves started being amplified.

"Do you hear the people sing." The start was soft and hesitant, but it was carried across the distance easily by their peer's powers. "Singing the song of angry men?" He became more confident, he knew that in the next sentence they'd join him.

"It is the music of the people..."

Claire was surprised to suddenly hear the voice of one of her students carry across the bridge. Journalists were already looking training their cameras on her, so except for a short hesitant step there was nothing that would give away her surprise. There was a feeling of pride swelling up inside her.

" .. who will not be slaves again. When the beating of our hearts echoes the beating of the drums," Almaz was not a great singer, nor was she terrible. But her powerful mezzo added layers and depth to the chorus, as was the way with choirs. Her voice held a subtle amount of venom, of anger; the whole situation had her riled up. In one way her father had taught her well; only the anger he cultivated and encouraged was now aimed at him and his ilk, rather than at innocent people who had no say in what they were born as. One would think that immigrants originally from Eritrea knew a thing or two about being judged for one's circumstances of birth, but it seemed that this irony was lost on the girl's family.

Shauna's own entrance was delayed by her insistence on scrutinising the reaction on the other side of the fence, much though it was impossible to see facial expression with any detail. The slow emergence of hidden personnel was gratifying enough, an assurance that there was audience to the performance meant not only to bolster their headmistress' spirit but to send a message to those who considered a bunch of youths easy targets. In a rare show of public familiarity, her hand drifted sideways to find Alistair's as her voice, as strong and purposeful as the rest of her, joined the chorus and for the first time all morning, a hint of triumph in her eyes made it almost seem like she was smiling.

That message was made abundantly clear by their choice of song, as Alistair led them into the final verse.
"Will you give all you can give, so that our banner may advance?
Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance?
The blood of the martyrs, will water the meadows of France!"
His head red, his voice strained. It was not how his namesake had taught him how to sing. It was filled with anger and spite that he spat across the empty air between them and the G.O.U., it was clear that this was personal, and it was clear he was willing to stand up and take his chance.

Oliver had been surprised by what appeared to be an impromptu concerto, but soon he realised that a large portion of the group gathered there had prepared this, and quite well. He hadn't been with the group that had performed this song during the Winter's Crest Festival, and he barely knew the words, but when it came back around to the third and final chorus he couldn't help but join in.

"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of the people, who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the drums,
There is a life about to start, when tomorrow comes!"

The Les Miserables song carried on from across the way and Claire stood on the edge of their private property. It was the spot where the music teacher had taken a daily seat to sing all manner of protest songs across the way. She waited for the song to finish. The Head Mistress leaned in to the counsellor to whisper; "Tell them they made me proud. Make sure my office is tidy for my return, no need to leave the lights on." As the last words of the song echoed across the Loch, Claire took another couple of steps forward and raised her hands, palms open and directed outwards, in the universal sign of surrender.

Though with everything that had accompanied it, it seemed like anything but.

As soon as Claire crossed the final few steps towards them two G.O.U. operatives stepped forward and grabbed her raised hands to tie them behind her back with a tie-wrap handcuff. She was led quickly into a secluded tent. Not one of the registration units.

Inside there was a single desk, a shoddy chair on one end, a large comfortable one on the other. The General in charge of the G.O.U. was sat in the large chair staring at the woman that was just brought into his office. "Is that what you're teaching these kids? To die like martyrs on the barricades?" The two men who had arrested her were still on either side of her, holding on tightly to her upper arms. It was clear that none of the people there had any clue as to extent of her abilities.

Claire hadn't expected the concerto but she was never one to pass up an opportunity for a good quote. She'd reread the Victor Hugo novel following the Winter's Crest festival and one passage still stuck with her, "In a word, they wanted Progress, that hallowed, good, and gentle thing, and they demanded it in a terrible fashion, with oaths on their lips and weapons in their hands. They were barbarous, yes; but barbarians in the cause of civilisation." A pause as she locked eyes with her accuser, "For our part, if we had to choose between the barbarians of civilisation and those civilised upholders of barbarism, we would choose the former."

"Were you hoping for a crowd of sympathisers?" Falkenrath asked, doing his best to hide the amused smirk from forming his lips. "Or perhaps a mob baying for revolution?" He leaned forward. "Or you would look to paint me as Inspector Javert, perhaps? Realising the error of my ways and a life lived with misguided meaning? A quaint thought. But the issue is this: I am a soldier, not a simple police officer. I don't always have to follow the letter of the law, Ms Cavendish, no matter what you may think. And you are certainly no Jean Valjean."

Claire frowned at the comment about the letter if the law. Being military didn't exempt one from following it. In her experience it only made things more strict due to the heightened responsibilities. "If cannot be Valjean, I guess I'll have to settle for General Lemarque." Her confidence didn't waver, even in comparing herself to a man in the story that had no role other than to die off stage, "Now, I do believe I have the right to a phone call and a solicitor. And if I could bother you for a cup of tea, that would be lovely."