_{Moon’s Tears}

After a good twelve days of preparation, Guy finally stood on the roof of a hotel near the airport, looking down at the place of the escort meeting, preparing his supplies and going through every single item making sure every last thing was in place for what is to come.

"Document of diplomatic immunity, money, one drivers license in the name of Guy Heinze… three packets of chips for today, a pillow, a mask in case I am in public, binoculars, duct tape, a medkit complete with all the things I need to patch any wound… I think this should do, not including that briefcase over there... I feel like I am forgetting something though..." Guy thought going through a large duffel bag, ending his train of thought looking over at a briefcase next to the railing of the edge of the building overlooking the airport.

Picking up the pillow, binoculars and a packet of chips and throwing them towards the edge of the roof Guy reached down, zipping the duffel bag and moving towards the edge of the roof, rampart thoughts of what could go wrong and what to do in each situation running through his head.

It was quite hard to get up on this roof let alone to be spotted on it, the roof had a lower area in the middle allowing to freely move around without being seen. Along the outside was four overlooking platforms with the same inner areas. Climbing up to one and putting his stuff aside, Guy continued mulling over everything.

"Okay, so… if I fuck it up, worst case scenario, ARHHHGhhh..." Guy lamented as he ran through thoughts voicing some aloud. Sitting down and opening a packet of chips, picking one up and pointing to the airport from where he sat, "So I wonder what type of people are coming...hopefully I won't spend this entire experience having people leap down my throat over America..." Guy brooded.

Guy thought to himself about the weight of this ordeal and what it really meant to him for things to go right, he did not know what was in store but all the same under the surface was an almost over-boiling amount of anxiety at the idea of having his goal achieved by the mere whim of some person from Paris.

Taking a bite of the chip, Guy thought about how he would get to the mansion before the others, his thoughts flew across many options and then upon landing with the option of choice he laid down, propping the pillow under his head; waiting for everyone to arrive.

_{♫ Resonance of Fate OST - Home Sweet Home}

Paris was everything Charlotte had ever dreamed of. On the urgings of her parents and her best friend Emily she decided to use the opportunity to see the sights, so she arrived on April 8th, the Sunday before everyone was set to meet for the big event. After she’d proceeded from customs and immigration, she collected her pale pink luggage set and waited for her ride to pick her up from CDG airport and take her to her hotel. She’d chosen a quaint hotel not far from the city center, wanting something close, but not too tourist-heavy. Considering the time of year, it would just start to become bustling with foreigners who were willing to tolerate the spring chill to see the beauty of the city early. Her usual wardrobe would have to be substituted considering the air temperature being mildly cooler than back home, so while touring, she’d chosen several outfits which consisted of jeans, a light jacket, a nice flowy spring colored top and either ballet flats in a coordinating color or sneakers depending on where she and her tour guide were headed.

The first night she spent in the hotel, she had spent most of it taking photos of the Eiffel Tower from her balcony, and communicating with her family back home. Emily had kept messaging her, begging for more pictures, and wondering if Charlotte had met any cute Parisian guys yet. Charlotte would just laugh, send her more photos (which strangely included requests for hotel room pictures) and brush off the comments about looking for guys. That was honestly the last thing on her mind. Sure, it would be nice to know the warmth of companionship once again, but that sort of thing was difficult to find. Maybe someday.

"If there even was going to be a someday…" She thought to herself as she sipped her chamomile and lemon tea and gazed out the balcony window from her cozy hotel room chair. Before sleeping, she made one last check to her blog and emails to see if the editors had sent her any story requests or messages. There was just one, her editor-in-chief sent a message.

“Hey Charlotte,
Hope you’ve settled into Paris okay. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, seen anything cool yet? Don’t worry about any other assignments for the time being, but we’d still love to run something about your sightseeing this week to go along with our classical Parisian composers piece. Take lots of pictures, enjoy it all, and send us whatever you can. Best of luck next week, take care.
- Cassie”

When Charlotte had first told her boss what was happening when she was going to Paris in April, she thought Charlotte was crazy but decided to trust Charlotte’s judgement. The two didn’t talk about it much, telling anyone else who wondered why that Charlotte was going to Paris on a research retreat.

Dropping this idea on her parents and Emily the first time was no walk in the park, though. They’d all had their doubts, not understanding why Charlotte would want to walk away from everything she had now on the nominal chance that she could get back the one thing she wanted. How many other people were in her shoes? How many of them wanted something back that they couldn’t get any other way? Charlotte told them that it was at least worth the try. The Methuselah of Paris had been rumored to be linked to many an anonymous charitable act in the past, so what if those rumors were true? After a month or two of constantly picking Charlotte’s brain on why she wanted to go, they’d finally decided to drop the matter and trust her judgement. Hoping that she’d really get what she wanted.

After giving Cassie a quick reply, she settled into her bed and quickly fell asleep. Bright and early Monday morning, Charlotte was met with her private female tour guide in front of her hotel and their first stop was Notre-Dame Cathedral. Charlotte took every opportunity to absorb the gothic architecture and the sheer breathtaking beauty of the stained-glass windows that surrounded her. She probably took too many photos, but she felt that nothing could completely capture what she saw around her in just a few photos. Thanks to her tour guide, she could spend as much time in the cathedral as she wished, getting far more time within certain areas than most other tourists got. After a quick lunch at a nearby café, the rest of the afternoon was spent in the Louvre museum. Nothing could do any of the photos she had seen online any justice. The museum was simply amazing. While seeing the Mona Lisa was nice, Charlotte had grown up thinking that it was a lot bigger for some reason. Compared to some of the larger works in the museum, it felt small. As the afternoon progressed, she was continually mesmerized by the architecture in the museum and continued to take many photos wherever she could.

That evening, her tour guide asked her if she wanted to go around and see some of the clubs and cafes open at night. Charlotte politely declined, citing overall fatigue as her reason to stay in. It wasn’t too far from the truth, she was still recovering from the time difference and the amount of walking they had done, but she also didn’t feel like trying to meet new people. That was one of the reasons she chose a privately guided tour over a group. She spent the rest of the evening uploading photos and communicating with her family.

Day two was the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower. Out of everything so far, the Eiffel Tower was the one thing she was the most excited for. She couldn’t have asked for nicer weather as she stood from the very top deck that the public could visit. It was clear and sunny with a slight breeze, making for great photography. Emily would die from excitement when she got these. Until she could upload the better pictures later, Charlotte asked her tour guide to take a picture of her with the skyline of Paris behind her on her cell phone. Once she had done that, she sent the photo off to Emily through Facebook. Even though it was 1am back home, Emily promptly responded to the photo with “OMG I HATE YOU!!!! xD ITS SO PRETTY!” which made Charlotte laugh. She wished Emily was here with her. Going to Paris was something they had wanted to do together back when they were at Juilliard. To make up for the fact that she couldn’t go, Charlotte promised Emily that she’d take as many photos as she could and would send home souvenirs.

They had to travel a bit out of town on day three, using the great weather to their advantage to view Versailles and the Saint Louis Cathedral. Charlotte had a soft spot for gardening and the natural beauty of a well-tended garden. Growing up, her father’s favorite thing to do on the weekend was to work in the family’s garden. They had lots of flowers and water features, which made summer afternoon tea parties as a little girl feel like something out of a storybook. Unfortunately, Charlotte never inherited her father’s green thumb and was unable to keep many plants alive in her home. It didn’t help that her Bengals loved to chew on anything green. Versailles was gorgeous, and she found herself getting lost in the beauty of the tiniest flowers in the garden. On multiple occasions, her tour guide had to pull her away just so that they could continue, promising that they could come back for photography later. The palace was breathtaking, boasting over 700 rooms. Because of Charlotte’s tendency to stop so often, they chose to visit only the biggest of rooms, including the hall of mirrors and the king and queen’s apartments. The baroque elegance of the entire building reminded her of her studies back in New York. She took a semester of study on Parisian influence in music and often found herself researching places that were important to its musical history. She couldn’t wait to show the photos to her parents that night. The cathedral’s ceiling artwork kept Charlotte looking up for the rest of the day, resulting in a slightly sore neck when they arrived back at the hotel. She couldn’t believe how much art history could be packed into one country.

She spent the fourth day shopping around in little shops in the Latin Quarter and walking through the Luxembourg gardens, taking more photos. This time though, she decided to spend the day without her tour guide. She had been armed with an English-French dictionary, her phone translator app and a map of the area. Having casual French lessons from childhood gave her a very small sense of how to navigate, and for the most part, she kept to herself. The past three days had been a whirlwind of moving, so having a day to herself was almost zen-like. Yes, she was in a foreign country, but the people were so friendly and the whole place just felt so beautiful. How could you not be happy here?

Friday was the last day of her touring, and it was also Friday the 13th. Charlotte didn’t realize it until the week before she flew to Paris, but something about this day always felt odd to her. She really hoped that nothing happened that day because she and the tour guide were driving out to Giverny to see Monet’s gardens and home. Charlotte grew up with a fascination in Monet’s paintings, with her favorite being “Water Lilies and the Japanese bridge”. So getting to see the place where this beautiful piece was made was just a given for her. There was no way she could be in Paris without going there. They spent yet another beautiful day touring the gardens and exploring the home of the famous painter. It was quaint, beautiful and memorable. Charlotte wished that someday, she could have a little cottage just like this one. When they drove back to Paris at the end of the day, she found herself feeling rather melancholy. This beautiful week was essentially over and she was left with such wonderful memories. She only wished that there had been others with her to enjoy them.

Back at the hotel, she uploaded the next set of photos and conversed more with her parents and Emily. They had a video chat where she showed off her balcony view of Paris and as per Emily’s next strange request, Charlotte’s room service dinner. “I don’t understand why you ask me for photos of such strange things, Emily.” Charlotte messaged her friend later that evening. “Because you can always see lovely pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine, but you don’t get to see the cuisine and little places that aren’t normally seen by every tourist. I want to see everything.” Emily replied, followed by a cute smiley face. “You’re a weird one.” Charlotte replied. “Yeah, I know. But you love me <3” Emily quickly sent back. “True. Ok, I’m going to bed. I’ll send you a message tomorrow before I meet the escort car.” Charlotte sent Emily along with a photo of herself holding up her hands in the shape of a heart. Emily replied with a photo of herself doing the same. Charlotte smiled before putting her phone on it's charger and heading off to sleep.

Saturday, April 14th arrived. It was a slightly overcast morning, with a chill that felt different than the other days. Something felt different, but Charlotte tried her best to ignore the feeling. She had tea and two croissants brought to her room for breakfast. While she sat in bed, vaguely watching a French morning talk show, her phone lit up and vibrated. She received a message from her mother.


Charlotte couldn’t help but smile and teared up slightly. She didn’t know if they’d thought about what would happen now. She never brought it up to them for fear of them stopping her from going, but Charlotte had the constant nagging feeling that there was a very real possibility that she may not come home for a very long time, or at all…

It was a thought she absolutely hated entertaining, but everything in her life so far had ingrained that horrid wedge of pessimism into her mind. Yes, by going, she could get it back. Oh, life would be back to the way it used to be. Her dream would be in her grasp again and she’d be home. But from the sound of it, she may have to trade something else… what would it be?

"Seriously, this better not be one of those ‘sell your soul’ sort of things…" Charlotte thought to herself as she took another bite of her croissant. There was still time, she could go back home if she wanted to. All she had to do was check out of the hotel, take a car back to the airport and take the next flight home. Everything would go back to the way it was; mundane, quiet and boring, but at least it would be safe. She’d have her family and her friends. But that little part of her that yearned for life the way it was before wouldn’t stop nagging. Bonaparte was giving her the chance to get her life back. This was more than anyone else had been able to do for her. If there was a glimmer of a chance, she wanted to try. She was going to try.

It was quite funny that people often recognized her on the basis that she wore a white coat. It was absolutely not allowed to wear your white coat outside of your laboratory. However, this one was a replica for outside wear some friends custom ordered for her. It wasn’t made from the same protective fabric a real lab coat was made of, but it looked authentic. “Olivia Sazer, physician-scientist from Basel.” She responded, thinking it common courtesy to introduce yourself if someone had done the same.

Olivia gasped slightly as Lawrence handed her the picture. ”This person is in Paris? She said, her expression slightly worried. ”That is good to know. Yes, I’ll keep an eye out.” She then looked at the journalist again and at his daughter. She had a lot of questions, but she was rather hesitant to ask them. She was certain she was either going to get a very depressing answer, or a false one.

Olivia didn’t really care that much about his money. She was more than willing to help someone as long as it was for a good cause. She neatly folded the photograph and put it in one of her pockets. ”Huge and messy, if you ask me. Nevertheless, I will be here for an indeterminate amount of time. So if I do come across this person, I’ll contact you.”

She gave both of them a soft smile and a slight bow. ”Well then, if that is everything. I will bid you farewell. Have a pleasant day.”

_{♫ 10.000 Bullets (Tsukiyo ni Saraba) OST - Target}

`'Physician-scientist'...? That makes sense...` Lawrence thought to himself as Olivia introduced herself to him.

Admittedly, he was not used to the idea of a doctor wearing their coat unless they were working, and - considering this young woman had just made it clear that she was a tourist - he did wonder why she basically looked 'on the job' when she was clearly here on some sort of vacation -- unless she was on work overseas or something. It was always possible that her outfit just looked like a scientist coat, but now that she had actually confessed to being a doctor it made that seem a bit less logical. He had a few ideas in his head, but in the end it was hardly important. It was always possible this Olivia woman was just a workaholic or something anyway.

The expression on Olivia's face upon seeing the photograph immediately told Lawrence that she knew who this person was, but then that was not exactly an amazing lead or anything and subsequently never really caused him to even give a reaction beyond making note of it mentally. Her reactions that followed also made it clear that she - like all the others who Lawrence had shown this picture to, in all honesty - agreed that locating them as soon as possible was important. This meant that Olivia would most likely help him, and her following words did indeed confirm that. She seemed like an earnest young woman, from what Lawrence could make of her. He was going to scratch the back of his head again and comment about her referring to Paris as 'messy' with a smile on his face, but she kept talking so he just listened to her.

With a friendly smile, Lawrence waved his hand at the doctor to say farewell, "You too, and thanks a lot -- I appreciate it."

Turning around, Lawrence walked over to Colleen and sat down at the table where she was eating, pulling out his own burger and taking a bite of it after closing his briefcase. They had managed to make fairly decent progress with networking around Paris thus far, but had not directly made contact with the person they were looking for. It was only a matter of time though, since their target would be unable to stay off the radar forever.

"This is boring..." Colleen said after a minute or so.

"I know it is, but you can put up with it." Lawrence replied sternly, though he still sounded calm, "Based on our Intel, they are definitely still in Paris, so if we keep this up it won't be long before someone sees them... Also, if we continue to show the photograph at hotels and ask the usual questions, eventually we'll hit the jackpot unless they're not sleeping at one." he continued, taking another bite from his burger.

"Yeah, okay..." Colleen replied, shrugging apathetically, as if it really did not bother her one way or another if they kept this up or did something else. One might even have argued that she was mostly just complaining about the boredom for the sake of conversation or something.
_{♫ 10.000 Bullets (Tsukiyo ni Saraba) OST - Joni Scott Club}

Paula, or rather Paulette Holly Ashworth, was about to make another point that her old boss was a jerk when she noticed a short young woman - who could only really be described as being like a mouse, immediately resulting in Paula thinking she was cute and wanting to strike up a conversation with her - who looked more or less like a teenager to her.

Apparently she had almost bumped into this girl as she stormed into the entrance of the café, making me also want to come right out and offer an apology -- feeling super guilty about making such a scene in front of someone seemingly so timid. It probably would have translated to something like a sheepish smile and a bow as she said she was sorry for making such a ruckus, possibly offering to treat her to something as a way to make it up to her, but before she had a chance to even open her mouth the girl was taking her leave after quickly saying farewell to a man that she could only assume was her acquaintance. Paula did not recognize the girl or the man she was addressing, so they might have been tourists -- on the other hand, Paris was a large city. It was the girl's accent that made Paula think she was a tourist.

`Bummer... I thought I could make a new friend...` Paula thought to herself, her eyes seemingly pouting slightly as she tilted her head a little bit for a moment.

Not only was that girl adorable, but she was British too from what Paula could tell -- she had so many questions she wanted to ask about her father's homeland. She would have tried to stop her and insisted on at least saying hello to the girl, but she left so abruptly and seemingly adamantly that Paula was sort of stopped dead.

Pretty quickly, her perky attitude popped back up again, having brought her attention back to the man who the girl had said farewell too. She immediately noticed how handsome the guy was, even if he seemed a bit underweight for someone so tall. Even so, his looks sort of had her bouncing around in daydream mode for a moment, and she wondered if he might be British as well. She could vaguely make out the way he said farewell in French sounding like his accent was British, and since the girl had said good bye to him in English he presumably understood it.

Paula did not exactly fancy herself as a master of deduction or anything, but two and two sort of just fit together in her head with what little information she had. Either that, or it was just what she wanted to think, but her mind was telling her he was British too. They got a lot of British tourists in this place; some of whom appreciated the café and some who were offended by 'Boss' and the others for having such terrible British accents -- Paula usually joked at them for that when she was still working in the place, overemphasizing the 'Guv' as if mimicking the others and then winking at the English tourists because she was sure they would get the sarcasm.

Ready to strike up a conversation as she saw the man standing up and putting a bill on the table, Paula was about to open her mouth again when she suddenly got stopped dead again; however, it was for an entirely different reason this time. Something about the look on the man's face as he was leaving the place - seemingly in a rush - was sort of terrifying. Perhaps his pale complexion could have been explained by the fact that he seemed a bit underweight and therefore arguably frail - making Paula want to treat him to something too and help out with that - but the look in his eyes said otherwise. That look was frightening for some reason, as though the man had just seen a dead body or something had put him in a state of shock. It sort of completely took the wind from her sails until it was far too late for her to say anything. Snapping out of the surprise, she turned to call out and ask him if he was alright, but the man was already long gone. It made no sense to assume he was following a girl he had just said farewell too, unless he realized he forgot to say something. She had no context, but something really seemed to be bothering that guy, whereas the girl who left prior simply seemed shy given all the stuttering.

"You alright there, Paula...?" the man called 'Boss' said.

Coming out of the sort of haunted feeling she picked up for just a moment, Paula turned her attention back to the middle-aged man, "... Uh, yeah -- I'm fine!" she said with a smile, trying to shake off that feeling.

Part of her wanted to follow that guy and find out what was wrong, but he looked like he wanted to be alone and Paula knew she had a habit of invading people's personal space by being a little bit too open and friendly sometimes. Really, she just wanted to make everyone feel welcome and be as approachable as possible, but sometimes her behaviour had the opposite effect. It was something she never really understood.

"Usual, right?" the owner of the café said, already knowing the answer and starting to get some 'builder's tea' prepared for her.

"Yup!" Paula said, smiling and walking over to the counter like a happy kid waiting for breakfast.

It was at this point that Paula noticed the short albino boy who was about as cute as the British girl who had run off previously. Paula sort of went into excited mode again at the prospect of making another friend, even if this particular person did not seem outright British to her. His appearance made it difficult to tell how old he was, but she would have guessed a young teenager if she had to, probably only slightly younger than the stuttering girl from earlier. His ethnicity was also difficult to work out due to him being albino, but she was getting 'Eurasian' from him -- people of that blood were known to have a very distinct appearance to them that really made them stand out. It was only a hunch, but when you spent as much time around tourists as Paula did you got a knack for these things.

Not wanting to scare off another potential friend, since this boy looked a bit timid as well, Paula tried to work out if he could understand English, even if there was really no information she could use as the basis for that guesswork. He had a bewildered look on his face that made him look confused, but that could easily have just been due to her energy taking him off guard when she arrived.

"Um... hello there?" she said in her usual friendly tone, "Bonjour...?" she continued after a moment if he did not seem receptive to English.
_{♫ Baccano! OST - Nise Orchestra no Kanbi na Hibiki}

From the moment Conrad had walked into an isolated street, someone had been watching him...

Perhaps it was because the short-lived author had been too occupied with the torment going on in his mind, or it was entirely possible that it had been deliberate, but he had disappeared out of the more bustling tourist area and stumbled into a place where he was - at least to his initial knowledge - alone. Nevertheless, another figure's eyes had been watching him from the moment he appeared, noticing the discomfort on his haunted face until he finally stopped due to what could only be presumed to be running out of breath. The thirty year old man was clearly trying to escape something, literal or metaphorical, and the stranger who had been watching had not failed to take notice of this.

"That look in your eyes just now, boy..." a gravelly and somewhat deep male voice spoke, "I know those eyes all too well..." he continued. Despite the sound in his voice being somewhat hoarse, there was a hint of sophistication in it. His accent itself sounded distinctly German, though he was definitely speaking in English.

Coming out of the shadows of an alleyway immediately next to the building Conrad was standing against, an old man appeared before him as he stepped out. The man was elderly, but likely no older than in his seventies -- he might have appeared roughly in his late sixties if not for the fact that his face seemed ravaged by the effects of lifelong stress and fatigue - or perhaps it was lamentation - causing age to take its course but not to the point where he looked older than he was; in fact, he looked a bit younger than his actual age. Indeed, something about the look in this man's brown eyes almost seemed like there was some sort of demon haunting him -- not that he appeared otherworldly or anything, but to a careful observer he would almost have looked as though he had stared into the darkest abyss and seen it stare back at him. He appeared as though he likely did not sleep very often, if the weary look on him was anything to go by, yet despite that his gaze was extremely intense.

His short hair was significantly greyed, but his natural hair colour in his youth would likely have been brown given the way it looked, and it was kept slicked back, spiking to a small extent, with a slightly receding hairline being noticeable as it went out to the sides of his forehead. His sideburns directly connected to his rather volumed facial hair -- a large beard and moustache that easily resulted in most of his face below his nose being hidden apart from his mouth, as well as him having fairly thick and seemingly unkempt eyebrows. His light skin tone was European, but difficult to place completely (he sort of looked Jewish overall, but not entirely), and he was likely around five foot and seven inches tall -- a somewhat stocky figure. The clothing he wore was simple, consisting mostly of a thick black double breasted coat, black pants, and black shoes. A white scarf could be seen around his neck from underneath the coat, but beyond that not much of what he was wearing was noticeable due to the coat going down almost to his feet, though the cuffs of a white shirt were visible. A short black cloak covered the top half of his coat as well. Lastly, he was carrying a black cane that had a couple of pale gold adornments, and it was clearly being used as a walking stick given the way he held it in his right hand.

"The eyes of a man who has felt something... otherworldly..." the old figure spoke. The look in his brown eyes were difficult to discern -- they might have looked crazed or obsessed, or they might have been confident. To some extent, he looked like the sort of person you would expect to see on the streets raving about how the end of the world was approaching. He almost spoke as if he believed Conrad to be a lost soul.

In the Air | April 14, 2012 08:46 (AM)

“Do you realize that everything you know that this world, your homes, your family and friends will all disappear, right? This world is that of the Dreamer's. It is but a small bubble, insignificant and fragile. A simple needle is all that it takes to burst that bubble and everything will be gone. It is my reign to rule this world and to keep the dreaming from waking. It is but you four fools who taken the liberty into shattering all that I've work so hard in retaining this world. Everyone will suffer the fate of being erased from existence.” A man cloaked in black robes explained. A runic sword was thrust into him during the struggle as blood and aether began to leave him. The room they were all in looked to be crumbling and has a slight rumble.

A light turbulence was felt.

“That may be. It doesn't excuse your deeds of trying to ruin the lives of the masses, Black Mage. It doesn't give you the right to manipulate the Dreamer's will to fall sleep eternal. We know of this fate from the scared text. This is the Dreamer's will. We have faith in the Dreamer's will to bring us back to a better light.” One of the protagonists spoke. The Black Mage shook his head before finally disappearing. He left with parting words.

“Fools. The lot of you. So blind to follow like sheep.”

With that, he was gone. The four heroes cheered with their victory for a brief moment, then turned to sad expressions. They looked at each other and nodded silently. It was time to wake the Dreamer. A protagonist with a kind expression on her face walked to the center of the room and chanted her words reaching the Dreamer to wake. The room was enveloped in a white light. Before they started to disappear, there was small tone followed by the words of monotonic female.

“We will be descending shortly to Paris, France. Please put away all large electronic devices, put your trays and seats in the upright position, and fasten your seat belts. We will be making their final checks as well as collecting any trash. Thank you.”

As if on queue, Lotus woke up and stretched herself out a bit after taking a long rest. It was another vivid dream she had of some sort of fantasy world. She couldn't really explain why she would have these dreams periodically, but they at least gave her some form of entertainment while she slept during these long trips. This particular connecting flight didn't take long from London to Paris. But, that long 10 hour flight she had was a little unbearable having to sit in one place for that amount of time. Although, what lighten the mood of the travel was that all her tickets were first class tickets. She had meals. Special drinks and snacks. A cushy recliner. It was a nice thing that Mr. Bonaparte threw in the all expense package.

She looked to the window and saw the sight of morning of Paris from high above. It all looked to be a model city that someone would craft on a table at home and the people looked like ants scurrying about the streets. It looked bustling and busy, pretty typical for any major city around the world. Paris looked rather nice from above. It was known to be the City of Love as they say and a popular romantic getaway or honeymoon for couples. It was unfortunate that she had to fly solo. She would have very much shared this experience with someone she knew. She chuckled at the thought of her specific friend. He neither had the time or money to make such a trip, let alone first class travel.



She was finally free of that steel bird as she emerged from the gate. Her heels clicked the ground as she walked which collected a few eyes toward her direction. It wouldn't be the first time that men and some women would gaze at her and took some sort of interest in her. She stood out as some sort of Asian girl to all, a hot one with a rare body type to boot. Her attire was quite alluring with a black cardigan over a white dress shirt that was open enough to expose the top of her red and black bra. She wore a red miniskirt and black mid sized boots with red laces. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied by two bear bear ties giving her a twin pigtail look. Any guy or lesbian would be in love with her in a heartbeat. She had a carry on bag, a fashionable leather purse, and a camera hanging around her neck. A couple of sleazy men came up to her to help with her bags.

“Hey, Mademoiselle... We really want to help with your bags.” The two men were persistent in wanting to help. They were immediately shut down once again.

“I don't know who you guys are. I don't need any help. Don't make me call my boyfriend over to bust your head open.” She let out her snarky attitude towards them, rather harsh and direct than her usual self. She used any means to get these guys away from her with their drooling and love struck expressions. She dismissed them without a second thought and left. She was focused at the task at hand to get her luggage. At least they were gentlemen enough to respect her and walked away. She continued to walk over to find the baggage claim area to collect her last piece of luggage. She sighed about the fact she has to wait for the conveyor, even more so for the escort service available in the late afternoon. As she stood there, she grew impatient as the minutes go by and people from the flight flocked around. She wasn't feeling herself just quite yet from the travel. When will her luggage arrive?

A few minutes later, she walked towards the arrivals area with all her luggage in order. It was now half past the hour, too early for lunch. She needed to figure out how to go about her new adventure, to kill time till her rally point for the escort. She would much rather not lug all her personal belongings around the city. It was liable to get stolen if left unchecked. Quite the burden. She decided to park herself at a nearby bench near one of exits and pulled out her phone to check on any messages. Being in a foreign country, calling rates were expensive. Data even more so. Luckily, Lotus was able to pick up free wi-fi to check her mail and one of her chat programs to stay connected with her friends. At the same time, she looked up places to go nearby without straying too far for the time being.

---

---

---

---

Somewhere in Central Paris, France_
_{♫ Final Fantasy XV OST - Safe Haven}

Reinald could only shrug in response to Leonard's last line - the American boy didn't even give him a chance to say anything at all in between all his ramblings - but he pulled out the pamphlet from his pocket and opened up the map inside. "Most of the tourist attraction sites are further downtown... And it seems like there's a train station within walking distance from here, so we can catch a train together and look around there." He folded the map into half, then showed it to Leonard. "Maybe here? The Luxembourg Palace. According to the guide, it has quite an impressive collection of Gothic art and architecture."

While he had initially been a little unsure of how to take Rein's shrug to the comment about staring, the following response made it clear he wanted to travel with him. In all honesty, Leonard had never heard of Luxembourg Palace in any detail beyond randomly hearing its name brought up. His own pamphlet, which he had only used to a very small extent since arriving here, was the only real source of information he had been given about it in his life. Not that he had even read the thing in any detail, since there was far too many things on his mind currently -- the reason he was here in the first place being one of the main ones. With that said, Rein's suggestion sounded interesting, particularly because Leonard had always been fascinated in art.

"Ahrite, cool..." Leonard said in agreement, "Let's go, huh?" he continued with a slight tilt of his head signalling in the direction that the map was showing the station located at. The straightforward part of him wanted to turn around and lead the way, but the part of him that had literally had people try to stab him in the back on more than one occasion made him reserved to do so.

Reinald nodded in reply to Leonard's direction, but rather than taking the lead he chose to fall in next to the American, keeping a slight distance apart but not obvious enough to make it seem as if he didn't like walking with him. He wasn't stupid to go off in front of this guy and get himself back-stabbed without warning, not when the counterpart had some sort of weapon on him. Call him paranoid, but he found it hard to relax around Leonard, not after all that creepy, intense staring contest on top of the bit of sheath poking out from under his clothes. Everything about this American just made Reinald feel difficult to get along with him beyond the current excuse of touring around Paris for a bit (and he was starting to regret calling out to this dude just now).

Leonard turned around roughly at the same time Rein was about to pass by him, making sure not to end up behind him when they started walking. It would have been hypocritical to be cautious enough not to take the lead yet then expect this stranger to move in front of him, especially given how only one of them was armed to the best of his knowledge, and he had always made an active point in his life of not expecting anything from others than he did not expect from himself; in fact, he had openly challenged people to find evidence otherwise.

As they started heading down the street, Leonard could not help but find himself contemplating about the events that were fast approaching -- a chance to correct a cruel hand that had been dealt in his little world. He was still largely unsure about whether or not he wanted to take the escort or just make his own way to the estate, but if he decided on the latter then he would need to part ways with Rein a lot sooner to ensure no problems came up.

The crowd thickened as they were approaching closer to the train station marked with a 'RER' signage (which stood for Réseau Express Régional), and Reinald's worry began to shift from the weapon and possible hidden violence in Leonard to the tendency of encountering a pickpocket this time. Even if the Chinese man didn't think he had brought much cash on him, getting anything stolen from the professional thieves who thrived on the stupidity and carelessness of foreigners was still a sour experience for any tourists, especially in the beautiful sight of this imperfect city.

Thankfully, the station had ticket vending machines that came with an English menu, which solved the language barrier issue for Reinald. He turned to Leonard and explained, "The closest station to the Palace is Luxembourg, which is along this RER route." His finger traced the blue line on the map in his pamphlet. "It's between St-Michel--Notre-Dame, and Port-Royal. We can purchase the tickets from the machines since they have English installed in them."

"...Sounds like a plan," Leonard replied after he swallowed another bite of the sandwich he had been periodically munching on, finally finished with it. At this point, he was becoming more conscious of the fact that time was passing and figured it would be a good idea if he got his mobile phone out during the train trip so he would make sure not to lose track of how long he had left. He did have a knack for getting lost in his own world, especially when something started making him daydream - which was easily possible in a romantically beautiful city like this - or was provoking his attention to detail into full gear.

The thought had been going through his mind the whole time that he needed to be on guard for an attack, especially since he was not unfamiliar with the possibility of people trying to get revenge on him by calling for more of their buddies, but he also figured he probably scared those idiots enough to make them not want to mess with him again. Regardless of how many of them they had, unless they could get their hand on a firearm he would be fine, and he was a more difficult target now that Rein's presence meant he was no longer alone -- regardless of whether his Asian companion could protect himself or not. Once they were on the train, it would be significantly more difficult for them to be found anyway.

"Let's do this," Leonard said after only a moment of thinking after his initial reply.

Reinald only responded with a curt nod and turned around, leaving his new companion's side to get his own ticket. Self-services like purchasing the ticket from the vending machines was child's play for the tech-savvy young man - he had no trouble going through the menu options to get what he wanted. A few seconds and a couple of taps later, he stepped away from the machine with the ticket in hand, then walked over to the gantry to wait for Leonard. He took out his own mobile and glanced at the time; there wasn't a need for him to make haste. He began to play a RPG app on his phone as he waited.

Leonard walked over to get a ticket at the same time as Rein, placing out his hand. As he was navigating the menu, his mind was honestly still multitasking -- focused mostly on the events that would transpire later in the day. Was it really possible for his wish to be granted? Leonard was not really the type of person who believed that you had to physically see something to prove that it existed, especially since there were so many mysterious in the world outside of the scope of empirical understanding, and he believed a wise person always kept in mind that anything might be possible in this world -- the height of arrogant delusion was to assume otherwise with absolute certainty. He was not that savvy about science, but he knew from his father that the more people learned the more questions they uncovered instead of answers. Nevertheless, each time he tried to fathom how a single man could actually be able to grant his true desire it just ended up bringing so many other thoughts to the surface of his inquisitive mind -- who the hell was this 'Methuselah of Paris'? Either way, he knew he would find out soon enough.

How much was on his mind meant that Leonard had indeed finished getting his ticket later than Rein, but once he had acquired it he wasted no time walking over to the gantry and signalling that he was ready with a nod. At this point, his mind was too occupied to engage in much conversation.

Reinald didn't seem to be in any mood to talk, either. Though the Chinese tourist could spare enough attention to register and acknowledge Leonard's presence, he was more interested in his own world - or rather, his game - than making much effort to try socializing with his new 'friend'. If his family or relatives were here, they would probably waste no time to nag and reprimand him (to them, his current attitude was considered rude by Asian standard, especially before those fussy elders), but to the introverted young man, he valued his personal space above all else. Once he passed through the gantry, Reinald brisked towards the platform area, all the while still keeping Leonard within his field of vision. A quick glance at the signboards to confirm the correct side of the train they should take, he gave the blond a wave to signal him over.

It was already way past peak hour period, but luckily for the pair they didn't need to wait long as their train pulled into the station a minute later. As Reinald boarded the train, he put on his headphone, filling the awkward silence between the two men with a calming soundtrack piece from the iPod in his jeans pocket. His left hand continued tapping away on his smartphone while the other tucked into his hoodie pocket, fingers wrapped around his wallet and the letter as a subtle precaution against pickpockets.

...And now, they were finally en route to Luxembourg Palace.

Itzal Albescu Fuji
British Themed Café | April 14, 2012


Itzal jumped in surprise when he realized that the young woman who had made such an extravagant entrance just a few moments earlier was actually speaking to him. "B-Bonjour...!" He replied to her shakily, his thoughts racing as he thought about what he should actually say to her. Swallowing heavily, he managed to start a conversation with her, "It's nice to meet you." He replied, his French making his simple sentence more elegant and lyrical than it actually was. "I suppose this is a bit rude but... Are you a regular here?" He managed to ask, despite something telling him that he should be so formal with such a lovely lady. He cursed himself mentally for being so weak that he couldn't even ask such a simple question without feeling horrible guilt about it.

I'm... I'm sorry..." Itzal apologized softly, though it was actually more of a whisper. "I really shouldn't be so brash." He paused for a slight moment as he sucked in a breath to calm himself down. "My name is Itzal Albescu Fuji and I'm actually a visitor to Paris." He explained to her. " I... Ah... Actually have a meeting with someone you managed to mention earlier as your employer?" He slowly pulled out the envelope so that only Paula could see it. He really didn't feel comfortable even showing it to her, but he really did need some answers and perhaps that would lead to his decision on what he should actually do. "I... Don't usually eavesdrop, but I heard you mention someone mentioned "The Devil" and that's actually who sent me this letter." He continued to explain, trying not to go in too much detail about the envelope's contents as he slipped it back in his sweatshirt pocket. He glanced down at the floor so he wouldn't have to look into Paula's eyes, "I apologize again. This is extremely forward of me, but I'm sort of having trouble making a decision on what I should do at this point." He couldn't believe he was actually telling a complete stranger about this, he never really expressed himself to others, even those he knew very well... However, he couldn't help but to feel this odd sensation that he could easily speak with Paula. As if she were some long, lost friend that he could deliver all of his secrets to.

Itzal managed to pull the courage and return to look Paula in the eye, her big lovely brown eyes. Without realizing, he had started to blush heavily, something he couldn't really hide with his extremely pale, delicate skin. He once again lowered his eyes and started playing with the tassels on his sweatshirt, he was obviously extremely embarrassed and it was written all over his face. Itzal was quickly starting to retreat back into his shell, regretting everything he had said and felt about Paula.

_{♫ 10.000 Bullets (Tsukiyo ni Saraba) OST - Joni Scott Club}

`Yay!` Paula cheered internally as she had successfully gotten the boy to speak to her, and she payed attention to the response.

As the boy spoke initially, Paula tilted her head slightly in order to try and figure him out a bit. From what she could tell, he was more familiar with French then he was with English - given how he had chosen to respond to her French greeting instead of the English one - yet some of what he was saying had suggested that he understood at least part of the conversation between her and the café owner just now, which had been in English. Well, either that or he had more or less just guessed she was a regular due to how familiar she was acting with the owner and the fact that he had seemingly known what she wanted before she told him. Regardless, he was right about that, but before Paula could respond the boy seemed to nervously apologize for - at least in Paula's mind - absolutely no good reason at all.

`I hope I'm not making him uncomfortable...` she thought to herself, not understanding why he thought it was 'brash' to ask her such a simple question as whether or not she was a regular of the café. It was not like he had asked for her measurements or something like that -- she had gotten that sort of comment before.

Once the boy had introduced himself as Itzal and explained that he was a tourist, he said one of the strangest things Paula had ever heard. It was not the fact that he was on a trip here, nor that had pulled out an envelope to show that he was invited by someone. Even the fact that her 'employer' was apparently the person who invited him to Paris was not entirely unbelievable, even if it was a bit too coincidental -- you might even had called it destiny. What was really strange to her was that he had referred to her 'employer' as 'The Devil'. Admittedly, Paula had no idea how much English this boy could understand, but it must have been enough to get at least a vague idea of what she had been saying to the café owner if he knew this much, but was he talking about the café owner or about Monsieur Bonaparte?

Paula thought a little about the back and forth she had previously with the café owner.

Assuming that he had understood their entire conversation, there was no way he was referring to the café owner because their discussion had made it clear that she used to work here, and had now been employed elsewhere. If he was referring to Monsieur Bonaparte - which made more sense, because Boss hardly had any reason to send out invitations to foreigners to the best of Paula's knowledge - then it still did not make sense for him to connect her employer with her previous statement about it not being nice to call her 'The Devil'. This led her to believe that he understood part of their discussion, but not all of it. Though, in all fairness, there were so many urban legends about Monsieur Bonaparte at this point that it really would not be all that surprising if someone had actually been spreading word about him being 'The Devil', so perhaps Itzal was taking those folktales too seriously?

Since she was busy thinking about everything for a moment, Paula had not really noticed that Itzal was staring at her. Either way, despite being a bit confused Paula maintained the same friendly expression on her face throughout the entirety of his talking to her, and did not even seem bothered by the fact that he had not really given her a chance to reply to anything he said. In all honesty, she sort of just seemed to enjoy the company, and had a very welcoming and approachable presence. Part of her wanted to make a joke by turning around and asking 'Boss' if he was 'The Devil', mostly because the two of them were always teasing each other, but she figured it might make things more confusing for Itzal and she avoided it for that reason -- the boy was getting really embarrassed and she could easily tell.

"It's okay." she replied, smiling in a way that sort of said 'don't worry about it' in an attempt to ease Itzal's tension, "How about we take a seat and talk about the problem?" she offered, having already missed the chance to talk to two other new people like this and not wanting to blow a third chance.

By this point, the café owner was working on Paula's 'builder's tea', as well as the pancakes that she usually liked to have with it. A smile was crossing his face as he watched Paula seemingly working to make a new friend, sort of like an uncle would look if he was witnessing his niece get excited about that sort of situation. The next thing that Paula said was actually something which he had predicted in advance the moment she started to talk to the boy -- he could see where this was going from a mile away.

"Are you hungry?" Paula asked, pretty much only a moment after offering to sit down and talk with Itzal, "It's my treat." she said, smiling.

---

---

---

---

"Hmm?"

It had been a long time since anybody had addressed Conrad as boy, but he let his annoyance at the term slide when he saw the age of the man addressing him. Arguing the matter would be pointless at best, and there were far more important matters to deal with first. For example- an accent and appearance that any native of Germany would be able to recognize immediately. Conrad was in the presence of one of his countrymen. One that was perhaps... a bit strange, but he could see why the man would try to talk to him out of the blue. In a foreign land, one was drawn to the familiar.

Still he didn't respond right away, content to catch his breath for a moment and brood over what the old man had said. otherworldly? Perhaps what Conrad had just experienced could be classified as that, but if it all had not been coincidence, he was much more inclined to think it was orchestrated by something of this world- or someone. Although to what end he could hardly guess at. It was not something he could answer yet, but perhaps in a few hours...

"Forgive me, Herr, but as unsightly as I was just now I think... That is too dramatic for what the situation could be called."

Not content to stop the explanation there, but also unsure of how to continue, Conrad took a moment to look over this man in front of him. Old, that was certain, and German as well. However, there were also the distinctive features of Jewish ancestry adorning his face. How much of each he was, Conrad could not say, but given the man's age there were dark implications to that ancestry that he preferred not to think about. Much like many of his countrymen. Overall it was an odd sight in Paris, but no less odd than Conrad himself.

"We can call it avoiding an encounter until I can face it on my terms. What brings you to Paris though, Herr, if you don't mind me asking? You don't not sound like you've lived here long."

With a start, he suddenly realized his manners and stuck out his hand for the second shake of that day, certain that this man wouldn't take it as poorly as the woman earlier. Moreover, Conrad made no attempt at humor this time.

"Forgive me again Herr. Konrad. I have not been in the city long myself."

_{♫ Baccano! OST - Nise Orchestra no Kanbi na Hibiki}

`... 'Too dramatic'...? Perhaps I was wrong...` the old man thought to himself.

There was a possibility that he had jumped to conclusions, mostly because his mind was entirely obsessed on something and subsequently in his head everything had to be related to it in some way. There was no denying that the look in the old man's eyes was that of someone who was fixated or haunted, but he saw no reason to speak to this young (at least by his own standards) man about it if he was not somehow able to relate to it. He would merely brush the words off as something spoken by a lunatic -- not that the old man was entirely unused to that at this point. Though he tried to present himself as sophisticated there was no denying that to any 'normal' person the words that would usually come out of his mouth would be a bit much to take in. He thought perhaps this man might understand, but it would seem not.

Since the old man was deep in his own contemplations, he made no attempt to speak to Conrad during the brief period of time between the two sets of dialogue. Despite how haunted the old man was, he was far too contemplative to feel the need to instantly reply to anything spoken, especially when the words had implied that any sort of extensive discussion might be an exercise in futility. Of course, it was perhaps a bit harsh to judge this young man strictly on one sentence, but if that sentence was anything to go off then Conrad was the type who would not want to hear what he had to say. While the old man could definitely appreciate the attempts made by Conrad to show him respect with the term 'Herr', he was also a bit too weary of the world to care much for something like formality.

The old man also made no immediate response to Conrad's offer to shake his hand. Firstly, the overall expression of the old man indicated that he trusted no one, to the point that he was paranoid. Secondly, the gears were currently turning in his head a lot faster now with the new statements made by Conrad. The young man he made it clear that he had not been here long, and that he was here for the purposes of an encounter. To any ordinary person, these things could have meant any number of things and the possible connection to what the old man was thinking could have been nothing more than coincidence, but he did not believe in coincidence anymore -- not after what he had learned. Also, people who were fixated on something usually saw what they wanted to see, so there was nothing actually strange about his mind going straight in one direction.

"Dietfried..." the old man responded simply, choose not to give his surname -- Conrad had not done so either anyway, "I am here... seeking a reunion with someone..." Dietfried replied, choosing not to word himself in the more 'dramatic' way he would have usually done so but still nevertheless answering the question.

The old man moved his cane slightly to the side, raising it and then letting it touch the ground again as if he was preparing to turn away, a clicking sound coming from the steel end touching the pavement. In all honesty, Dietfried was unsure whether or not to say what was actually on his mind at this point. He was weary of this young man even though he had no clear reason to be, but then he was for the most part weary of everyone and it did show in his expression. At the same time, he could not just ignore the thoughts in his head that were bothering him due to the combination of the words Conrad had used earlier. Most people would have thought nothing of it, but Dietfried's mind could only go think about this in a single way.

_{♫ Shadow Hearts OST - Profile}

"... Were you invited here...?" Dietfried asked suddenly, as if choosing not to walk away after all, "Were you given a letter -- written on antique paper...?" the old man questioned. The response to this question would settle everything, so Dietfried payed close attention to the young man's expression.

The sound of the bells, though having recently ended still rang deeply within Tatianas mind as if they sang in welcome to her arrival, a response back to her greeting as friends. The flaps of wings still filled the air as the many who flocked began returning to their homes in the crevices of the old cathedral. Tatianas eyes were closed for a moment, a small smile gracing her face as though remember a sweet stationary instant in her mind of a time long past.

A small gust of wind swept through tickling the old womans cheeks with her lightly swept back greying brown hair. Tatiana pulled her jacket in closer around her, her eyes opening once again revealing their pail green hues through her slightly disoriented locks. The chill was came as a reminder to her as to why she was there, her wish, her dream. "Can you forgive me sweet Ferko?" she whispered to herself in English, her thick Hungarian accent twisting it's way around each word.

Tatiana glanced around the forming crowd of people and tourists. Young children laughing and playing with each other as frustrated parents hurried behind them trying to straighten them out. Couples, holding hands and smiling to each other, some with a head on the others shoulder looking at the beautiful building, some walking hands around waists, giggling and laughing in sweet romantic rhythm. Hurried adults running here or there, so used to the sights and scenes that they are no longer effected by their exquisite charm.

At this the elderly woman glanced down at the beginnings of her sketch and began to continue where she left off, humming a Hungarian lullaby to herself, singing gently with each stroke of the pen to her paper, glancing up every so often to catch another glimpse of the incredible architecture. Her sketch was nearly complete as the soft sound of her humming held briefly in the open air before her only to be heard by someone standing close by. She smiled lightly at her drawing before sighing putting the pad down next to her and simply stared at the building, her smiled fading slowly into a light frown, remorsefully sad as a few tears trickled down the sides of her gently wrinkled cheeks landing warm drops into the hands that lay open on her lap.

---

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---

A long sigh escaped Conrad's lips at the question, as if life itself was leaving him, and he sank into the building behind him. He stared at the sky for a few moments in silence, response enough to the old man, before running a hand through his hair and drawing a deep breath once more. What came out though wasn't words, but laughter, echoing across the surprisingly empty Parisian street.

Why can't you leave me alone? I'm a nobody.

Not even he knew why he talked so often with a God he had discarded, but these one sided conversations seemed to happen more frequent as of late- especially since arriving in Paris. Events of the past few months had certainly made things evident that there was something greater out there- whether supernatural or, as Conrad suspected, entirely natural. However, it's not like there weren't many things in the world greater than him to begin with. At the end of the day, he was a powerless cripple, and it was a bitter pill he had been forced to swallow many times.

Still, if God was absent Dietfried at least was present, and Conrad tried to wrestle control of the laughter than not even he knew the reason for. A twisted sense of humor? The absurdity of his day? A growing hysteria? Regardless of the cause, the old man deserved a proper response to his inquiry. Though truth be told Conrad had no idea how to reply, or more accurately: What he felt towards the man at that moment. Anger? Frustration? Apprehension? This specter that was shattering his hopes of spending his last few hours before the time of his great appointment on his own terms. How exactly was Conrad to respond to him?

More than any single emotion at that moment though, what Conrad felt was exhaustion. So he simply reached behind the dictionary in his pocket and pulled out the envelope, showing the back of it to the old man as confirmation.

"Herr, I assume you mean this bloody thing? Am I to assume you have one too? Because I'm beginning to wonder just how much of Paris is carrying one at this point."

_{♫ Shadow Hearts OST - Profile}

`That haunted laughter... I knew it...` Dietfried thought to himself, already knowing the answer without Conrad speaking.

From the moment the old man had seen this young member of his homeland appear on the street, Dietfried had been almost certain that he was right on the mark; however, it was entirely possible that he was just being paranoid. It would not have been the first time that someone claimed he was delusional, so he always tried to confirm his suspicions before acting upon them -- it was the only way to avoid simply being written off as just a madman again. There could have been any number of reasons why the young man named Conrad would rush into this alleyway, seemingly 'on the run from something'. Nevertheless, the expression on his face at the moment was a similar sort of tormented as the expression that always carried itself in Dietfried's eyes. That, and it was all too perfectly timed for what he was certain was coming.

After the young man's laughing had settled down, Dietfried could tell that Conrad had a wall of mixed emotions going through his mind. As collected as he seemed, Conrad was clearly conflicted and had powerful reserves of emotion hidden within him. Dietfried was far too old and experienced not to notice that. Even so, all of his experience would not be able to prepare him for the feelings and thoughts that went through his mind as Conrad finally replied by showing him that abomination of an envelope. Before Conrad had even spoken afterwards, the expression on the old man's face had already gone considerably paler. He might have suspected that it was true, and even been certain of it, but somehow he was still not prepared to see that invitation with his own eyes.

`Do I have one...?` Dietfried thought at the question for a moment, trying to control the shakes in his hand that slightly made his walking stick wobble ever momentarily.

The expression on his face changed slightly, becoming more haunted than he already looked - if that was even possible, considering how he already looked normally - and he turned sideways as the walking stick clicked against the ground in response to him adjusting himself. Did he speak? Should he even try to tell this young man the truth? Would he even believe him? Surely, with what Dietfried now knew for certain Conrad had been experiencing over the last few months, his words would not sound so insane. Even if it was a difficult reality to accept, it was better than saying nothing... surely. He contemplated for a few moments, his head slightly facing down.

"No... I don't have one -- not anymore at least..." the old man said in his usual deep tone, raising his head again to look at the street in front of him, "'Konrad', was it...? Listen to me~"

_{♫ Guilty Gear Xrd Revelator OST - Mysterious Story}

Dietfried's next words never came though, as his eyes widened at the sight that was now before him. The expression on his face, which Conrad would be able to at least partly see from the current angle, was utterly horrified. It was as though the old man's entire life had flashed before his eyes in that single moment and he was looking at the very gates of Hell itself. There was no way to truly describe the despair that was in his eyes.

If Conrad turned to face what was seemingly spooking the old man, he would find himself seeing nothing at all. Was the old man a schizophrenic or something? That would probably have been the first assumption that most people in this era would have made; in fact, he may have damn well been condemned as insane on the spot. There was nothing to indicate that the old man was actually seeing something, for Conrad could see nothing at all. The only thing that might have felt a bit off was that there was a certain... 'feeling' in the space around the two men presently. It was virtually impossible to pinpoint specifically, but... what was the best was to describe it -- a familiar feeling perhaps? Throughout most people's lives, somewhere in their time on this planet they got a strange feeling lingering in the back of their heads that 'something'... or 'someone'... was watching them, even though there was no logical reason to feel that way. It was an almost universal human experience. The only thing that was different right now was that feeling was stronger than usual. Nothing beyond that gave any indication as to why this old man was so afraid.

Slowly, the old man's facial expression changed, until Dietfried had seemingly lost all the will to engage in whatever conversation he was about to try and start with Conrad. The hopeless look in his eyes was certain now that there was no way to avoid what was coming. If that was the case, then he had no choice but to face this destiny head on. Placing his free hand against his chest for a moment, as if to check his heart and make sure his health was in order, Dietfried turned away and started leaving. After a few paces, he stopped. He never turned around to face Conrad, but rather he stood there silently.

"One more question..." the old man said, "Was there an 'escort point' included in the letter...? Where is it...?"

<sup>HOPING TO FIND HER WAY BACK HOME.
9:00AM


THE TRAIN TO HELL.
9:35AM


AT THE MEETING SPOT.
10:26AM</sup>

Itzal Albescu Fuji|NPCs
Collab between: @Shadow007 and @Shoryu Magami

British Themed Café | April 14, 2012
_{♫ 10.000 Bullets (Tsukiyo ni Saraba) OST - Joni Scott Club}

Itzal glanced back up at Paula, once he realized that she was addressing him again, "If.. If that's all right." He stammered, trying to get himself more relaxed.

"Yeah, no problem at all." Paula replied, smiling.

"You two go ahead and sit down, Paula. I'll bring your stuff over in a moment." the café owner said, sounding like an uncle would if his niece was entertaining a guest at home.

"Thanks!" Paula said with a grin, heading over to one of the free tables close to the entrance, “You can use the menu here.” she said to Itzal, not wanting to make the kid feel uncomfortable.

Itzal nodded as he followed her over, “All right, thank you.” He sat down in the booth adjacent from her. He folded his hands in front of him, leaning slightly against the table as he started to think about what he was going to say, but changed his mind as he glanced down at the menu. He decided that he should at least try to order first and get his thoughts in order, he would occasionally glance up at Paula from time to time as he looked over the menu.

"Here's your breakfast, Paula." the middle-aged man said as he placed down the 'builder's tea' and pancakes, thinking about poking fun at her about how she was definitely late for her breakfast and how this was more like a brunch now or something, but decided not to because he wanted to avoid interrupting the conversation she was about to start with her new friend, "So what can I get you -- Itzal, right?"

“Ahhh… If I could get the full breakfast?” Itzal requested of the middle-aged man. “Thank you.”

"You got it." the man replied, smirking at Paula for a moment as he turned back to start getting it ready.

Itzal cleared his throat, "So..." He began awkwardly, shifting his weight as he crossed his legs to relieve the tension in his back and shoulders. "What do you think I should do about this... Conundrum?" He decided to get right to the point once again, he knew he couldn't waste all day trying to decide what he should do about the matter. "As I said before... It'd be almost rude to turn down such an invitation... However..." He glanced around before he continued in a lower, softer tone. "I can't help but to think there's some bad omen waiting to happen... I've heard rumors of this man... That they call him "The Devil" and "The Methuselah of Paris." That he's a complete enigma... No one seems to know who he is or where he came from... Just, knowing this makes me wonder if I should trust someone like that..." He sighed as he brushed his bangs out of his face. "I suppose it comes down to the fact that I need another opinion about this... When I heard you mention that name... I figured that I'd ask you about it."

Listening to everything Itzal said, there was no doubt in Paula's mind now that he did manage to understand most of the conversation between her and 'Boss' earlier. Paula had admittedly heard the stories about Lucifer Van Bonaparte prior to becoming employed by him -- really, it was sort of impossible for someone in Paris not to have heard about him. It was hard for those outside of the city to not have at least heard rumours, so those in the heart of his location were always hearing things about him even if he was very reclusive. Still, to go so far as to spread rumours about him being 'The Devil'? She had heard the vampire story before, but not... no, wait a minute. Now that she thought about it, she had a vague recollection of hearing that there was some old man who called Monsieur Bonaparte 'The Devil' or something.

"I don't think anyone will deny that he's certainly mysterious, but I think calling him 'The Devil' is a bit too extreme." Paula replied, though her tone was definitely friendly -- she was not by any means scolding Itzal for referring to her employer this way, but rather pointing out that she thought it was a bit much for people to spread those kinds of rumours. "I mean, he seems like a really good guy from my experience with him so far..." she pointed out.

Itzal merely nodded slowly, “I suppose such a name as ‘The Devil’ has almost… Negative aspects to it. I’ve just heard rumors of Monsieur Bonaparte… So, I’m sure there is a lot of untruth to what I’ve heard and who he really is.” He chuckled slightly, almost nervously. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, yes?”

"Exactly." Paula replied in her usual friendly manner, "It's wrong to judge people from rumours you hear. Most people have lots of things about who they are that others don't know, or don't understand. Monsieur Bonaparte is the kind of genius that you only see occasionally, and those types are rarely understood... Even if some of the stories about him not being normal were true, that doesn't mean he has to be ‘evil’, right?" she added, thinking for only a moment before realizing she was sort of missing the most important part of all this, "So you were invited to meet him? I did hear that I'd be catering to a group of guests for a while. I'm guessing you're one of them?"

“Yes, I am.” Itzal confirmed, glad that they had gotten that mess sorted out and behind them. “I actually haven’t met with any of the said guests though.” He admitted. “... I think two of them were in here earlier… However, my English isn’t as great as I would like it to be. So, I thought I’d speak to you.”

`Two of them were here...? Is he talking about those British folks who left just now...?` Paula thought to herself. Itzal had only been in the café for a couple of minutes from what she could tell, unless he had been standing at the counter without ordering for a long time or something. It made sense in Paula's mind that he must have been talking about the only two people who she had seen exit since they had presumably both arrived. Perhaps that was why they were in such a hurry to leave, but why did that handsome fellow look so haunted? Was it because he realized three of Monsieur Bonaparte's guests had managed to appear in a single café in Paris? Then it dawned on her that she and 'Boss' had also been joking about how she was working for the man now -- meaning... a total of four people, in this tiny little tea house? Is that why it freaked him out? Sure, it was a bit freaky, but Itzal did not seem too bothered by it, and Paula had honestly heard a lot crazier things about her employer. It could have been all a coincidence, but if that was the case then she needed to start doing to lottery more.

“Is… Something wrong?” Itzal asked, his relaxed expression becoming a bit more strained by Paula’s sudden silence. Had she realized something he hadn’t? No, that couldn’t possibly be the case, he thought to himself as he tried to drive the thought out of his head.

"Huh...? Oh, yeah! I'm fine." Paula said as she contemplated, her expressional eyes indicating she had a bit bouncing around in her head, but she quickly pulled herself out of it. Honestly, she was not so much trying to hide it from Itzal so much as she felt it was better not to freak him out -- he did not seem bothered by it, so it was better not to give him anything else to stress about. "Well," she started, redirecting the subject but only slightly, "there's actually one guest there already. She arrived a month ago. Have you ever heard of Annabelle Joanne Taylor?" she asked, a little hint of excitement in her voice.

“I have.” Itzal confirmed with a nod. “I listen to some classical music now and again.” He wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that someone so famous would be staying at Monsieur Bonaparte’s.

"I thought it was so cool when she showed up. I had no idea someone like that would be coming." Paula said, "Apparently today is when all the guests are meant to arrive, but, from what Simon told me, she showed up a month ago and offered to work as a musician at the estate while she waited." she said, not even thinking about the fact that Itzal would have no idea who 'Simon' was, "She told me she doesn't like going too long without playing her music. I even got a chance to hear her in person -- she's really amazing."

Itzal tilted his head slightly, “Simon… Is that a friend of yours?” He asked, trying not to ask the big question if Simon was her boyfriend or fiance. It wasn’t like it was any of his business anyway, even though he didn’t directly ask the question, he still felt guilty for even thinking about it.

"Hmmm...? Oh, Simon!" Paula said suddenly when she realized what was going on, "I guess you could say he's a co-worker? He's a really nice guy though, so I guess we're friends." she continued to explain, "He works as a bartender at the estate. Apparently he's been working there for about a year now. I've only been at the estate a couple of times so far, just to get familiar with everything. My official job starts when the guests arrive."

“I see.” Itzal hummed, nodding with understanding. “So, what are you going to do at the estate, if you don’t mind me asking.” He hoped he wasn’t pushing her too hard to answer his silly questions.

"Her job's being late." the middle-aged man said as he continued working on Itzal's breakfast, not really turning around, but he was smirking.

"Ha-ha!" Paula fake laughed sarcastically back at him, "He asked me, you know!" she said, turning back around with the same friendly expression on her face, "I'll be working as a waitress for you guys. Apparently whenever Monsieur Bonaparte plans to host a gathering, he usually hires some additional help to cater for everyone." she explained.

Itzal looked impressed, “Ah, I’m interested to see what sort of food will be catered. I’m a chef myself and I am always interested to see different or new takes on dishes I’m familiar with.” He explained to her. “Part of me wonders how fancy the dishes will be… I’ve only be to a few five star restaurants.”

"Oh? You're a chef? That's cool!" Paula said, actually looking rather impressed herself that someone seemingly so young was a chef, "I haven't met the chef at the estate yet, but from what I can tell there's wide a variety of dishes planned." she continued, then a thought crossed her mind, "If you like cooking, maybe they'll let you make something for everyone too? I could ask Simon to put in a good word for you if you like! People take his advice a lot, because he's really smart."

Itzal blushed slightly, “That… Would be very nice of you to do that for someone like me. If they allow it, I’d love to be able to cook something for everyone.” He had never met a true European chef and this was extremely exciting for him.

"You got it! I'll ask him as soon as I get there." Paula said with a smile, "So, did you have any other questions?" she asked, apparently not bothered by how inquisitive Itzal was being. She honestly seemed to enjoy the company, and appeared to really be the honest type of person.

“I was going to ask your opinion of whether you thought I should even go to the estate, but after this chat, I feel really excited about going.” Itzal told her. “Especially if I could meet with the chef, that would be a dream come true. And… Thank you so much. I was extremely nervous about the fact about going to the estate and now… I feel so much better about going there.”

"Glad I could help then." Paula said, still smiling, "It'd be a shame to miss out on such an opportunity, right? I mean, I was shocked when I got my job there. I can't really say no to it, can I?"

"Breakfast's served." the middle-aged man said, bringing the meal over, "Enjoy."

Itzal smiled at the middle-aged man, “Thank you again.” He said as he started to eat and enjoy his meal.

---

---

---

---

Conrad wondered as this scene unfolded before him whether he looked as crazy as this old man did from day to day. He had seen the look before of course, on countless faces. On his own face staring back at him, reflected in the remains of shattered windows. A look of horror, despair. He couldn't say for sure what this old man was seeing at that moment, but a feeling in the air told Conrad that it was real: Or at least had been at some point in time. Yes, this man was a kindred spirit, Conrad only hoped that he had managed to retain a few more marbles in his head.

However, it wasn't the phantom haunting this old man that held the blonde Brit's attention, but rather what he had implied just before.

"I don't have one -- not anymore at least..."

Somehow, if there had been a previous set of invitations sent out by Lucifer Van Bonaparte he suspected it would have been international news. Sure, there was likely a Non Disclosure Agreement involved with anything Conrad was going to witness that day, but what sort of NDA could hold someone back from spilling the beans on the most reclusive figure in modern society? There was always the chance that the old man had been lying, but... That notion was an absurd one. It had been him after all that brought up the letter, not Conrad.

His thoughts were interrupted by Dietfried regaining his composure though, and as the old man turned to leave without another word Conrad scrambled to his feet to do the same. He had many questions... yet at the same time a strong desire for this conversation to be over. So, in spite of his unease at the whole situation, he had turned to leave himself when the man let out a final request:

"One more question...Was there an 'escort point' included in the letter...? Where is it...?"

Conrad turned to look at the man once more, conflicted on what his response should be. True, he thought the old man at least somewhat crazy, but he hadn't seemed dangerous in spite of it. Would it be safe to let him know where the escort was? Could this man be intent on harming the people there? Conrad doubted it, considering his own present safety, but still... He at least didn't want the mousy girl he had met earlier to come to harm.

"Assuming you aren't planning to hurt anyone there..."

Still unsure of himself, Conrad resolved that if he had any bad vibes about this decision he could just alert the authorities that some madman might be going to try something at the airport. Even as unlikely as it was, surely the authorities would treat an airport threat seriously in these modern times. Besides, if this man was a kindred spirit as he thought...

"... It's at the Charles de Gaulle. Viel Glück, Herr."

With that Conrad turned away once more and began traversing the streets of Paris at a much more relaxed pace than before. The encounter just now had filled him with a hundred times the unease that he had felt at the beginning of the day- and yet also a determination. There was... something strange surrounding this Bonaparte, whether natural or supernatural, it all pointed to one possibility that Conrad couldn't ignore.

That his wish could possibly be granted.

Itzal Albescu Fuji|NPCs

Collab between: @Shadow007 and @Shoryu Magami

British Themed Café | April 14, 2012

_{♫ 10.000 Bullets (Tsukiyo ni Saraba) OST - Joni Scott Club}

During the meal, Itzal was rather quiet, not actually going into conversation with Paula as he wanted to focus on the different flavors and textures of what he was eating, considering he had never eaten this dish before. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and regarded Paula once again, “Sorry about that… Not much of a conversationalist when there’s food about.” He apologized with a small, quiet laugh.

"Oh, that's fine!" Paula replied, her usual friendly smile present.

Honestly, Paula had no problem with Itzal wanting to focus on his meal without talking, since she had her tea and pancakes to enjoy while he was doing that. She finished her pancakes before he was done with his meal, and she had been taking periodic sips from her tea throughout most of the time they had been seated together, so she had pulled her cell phone out of her purse while Itzal was having breakfast. She had checked the time, just to make sure she was not abysmally late or anything.

Itzal nodded, slightly wondering why Paula was checking her phone when something dawned on him, he pulled out his own phone to check what the time was, “Ah! I wasn’t thinking about the time!” He admitted, starting to look nervous again. After all this time deciding whether or not he should even go to this gathering, it looked like he might miss the deadline. He sighed slightly, that was pretty typical… Forgetting deadlines like this… He really wanted to go to this gathering though.

“Paula?” He suddenly asked. “Can… I ask you something?”

Wondering what suddenly got Itzal so concerned, Paula quickly guessed it was about the time. Really, Itzal seemed like he felt lost a lot, or at least that was the vibe she got from him. He often had this nervous atmosphere like he had no idea where he was going or what he wanted to do. She might have just been reading into things too much, since how shy he seemed to be might have just been making him seem indecisive, but it was true that their interaction more or less came as a result of him asking Paula for advice. Even so, she was hardly complaining, because she enjoyed talking with him. Itzal seemed honest and friendly -- Paula could definitely get behind those things.

"Yep, go for it." Paula replied with her usual smile.

“It’s just… I was thinking about how I was actually going to get to the mansion and the deadline.” Itzal admitted, fidgeting slightly. “I’m sort of bad when it comes to actually sensing how much time I have to actually spare. I was wondering if maybe we could travel to the mansion together, since we’re both already heading in that direction.” He looked embarrassed again, feeling that he was being a bother to the person who had been so nice and polite to him.

Paula really could not help but smile as Itzal explained what was going on in his mind. It was actually sort of interesting how one moment he was nervous and could hardly speak, and then he managed to actually say quite a lot. The things he said were given quite a lot of thought for someone who seemed potentially as scatterbrained as she was. Perhaps being a chef meant he had to work well under pressure. Honestly, Paula had been tempted to ask him to go there with her before he said anything, if only because Itzal was fun to talk to and it seemed like he was lost.

Still, it was a bit weird for him to worry about the deadline, since the escort was not going to pick people for several more hours, and it was not like the guests would be denied entry if they arrived later than the escort did. Still, he was clearly worried about time, perhaps because he had so much to think about or something. Whatever the reason was, Paula thought it would be a great idea to travel there with him.

"You took the words out of my mouth." Paula said with her usual friendly expression, "I was thinking about asking if you wanted to come with me. It'd be a lot more fun if I had someone to talk to on my way there."

The owner of the café simply smiled, minding his own business for the most part.

Itzal’s expression brightened, “Really? You’re okay with that?” He asked, sounding the most cheerful that Paula had ever heard. He even looked like a different person with that smile on his face, like he was absolutely glowing. “Thank you so much.” He said, bowing as deep as he could despite the fact he was sitting down at a table, his Japanese heritage was still ingrained in him after all these years. “It’s been awhile since I’ve actually had someone to talk with.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I’m certain this will be fun for the both of us.”

Paula reacted with her usual smile, taking a moment to drink the rest of her tea at this point, apparently in a rush to finish it now that she knew she had someone to travel with. With no good reason to stick around the café now that she knew the person she was spending her time with wanted to go with her, it was time to head off before she left herself get more late than she already was. Well, sort of was -- it was not like she needed to get there early today, since the guests had not even arrived yet, but she said she would come early to get into the routine. This was a big job opportunity, after all.

Suddenly, Paula's cell phone made a noise. Putting down her empty cup of tea, Paula flipped her phone open again and looked at it.

"I'm guessing you slept in again, right? I told you not to stress out about today, didn't I?" Paula said to herself out loud, seemingly reading the message on her phone, but she was speaking in English. Whether or not Itzal could understand it probably depended on how good his knowledge of English actually was.

Itzal tilted his head slightly, trying to make out what Paula was talking about, he could pick up a few words in English, but not many and didn’t feel that he should ask her what she was talking about. Even if they were friendly now, he still barely knew Paula, he supposed it was best to just ignore what she could have possibly said and what the message could possibly be. “Shall… We be heading off soon?” He asked her, hoping to change the subject.

The expression on Paula's face as she was looking at the message had been, for the most part, similar to the facial expression she had whenever 'Boss' gave her a hard time. Basically, she looked as though someone was teasing her, but Itzal might not have been able to recognize that. Nevertheless, it was only when he spoke that Paula realized she had spoken the message out loud, and she blushed slightly for a moment, feeling a bit embarrassed herself now.

"Oh, sorry about that!" Paula said with a silly expression on her face, "I sometimes read text messages out loud to myself. I don't even notice I'm doing it half the time, I swear." she continued, smiling.

“It’s quite all right.” Itzal assured her with a smile of his own. “Sometimes when I see a dish I know how to make… I start listing out the ingredients without thinking.” He said with a laugh. “So, I definitely understand. It’s just… My English isn’t as great as I want it to be.”

"I guess we're both kinda weird, huh?" Paula replied once Itzal had explained himself, grinning for a moment about how he had seemingly tried to make her feel less silly. It had been the statement after his assurance - specifically, the point about his English being bad - which made it clear to Paula that Itzal had likely been unable to work out what she was saying when she repeated the text message. Considering it was actually on topic, she figured she might as well bring it up. "Do you remember that Simon guy I mentioned earlier? He's the one who just texted me."

“Simon.” Itzal said with a nod, remembering how Paula spoke about him before they had breakfast. “The bartender working at the mansion, right?” He asked, making sure he had it correct. “I suppose the two of you are rather close friends then.” Of course he couldn’t believe he was saying this outloud, but a part of him had to know about their relationship. “Sorry... “ He apologized automatically, realizing that he had gotten too out of bounds with that statement.

Paula thought to herself about how close it would be accurate to say she and Simon were, even if they were definitely on friendly terms, but she was a bit confused when Itzal apologized. Was it really that rude where he came from to imply you were a close friend with someone? Then it dawned on her, perhaps because he was apologizing, but also because of the look in Itzal's eyes, that he meant more than what he had actually said.

"Oh! Oh!" Paula suddenly exclaimed, "No, no, he's not my boyfriend or anything. He is really handsome though." she said as she waved her hands back and forth a bit, blushing slightly and sort of thinking she might have made the situation worse by pointing out the honest fact that Simon was attractive. "I'm single." she explained, hoping that would make things clearer, "We’re just co-workers. It's just that we became friends because he's nice, and he helped me get used to the place. That's all."

Itzal couldn’t help but to laugh a bit, Paula was certainly cute when she had gotten flustered. “I understand.” He said with a gentle, but almost sad smile. “I know how that sort of thing works. I’m glad that you are friends with such a nice man like him.” He sighed as he slipped out of the booth. “Would you like me to pay for the meal?” He asked her, still smiling.

Admittedly, Paula had gotten a slightly more serious look in her eyes when she picked up on the hint of sadness coming from Itzal, but when he seemingly perked back up again she decided to let it go. As long as he was okay now, there was no point making him think about something which might have upset him.

"No, no, it's okay!" Paula replied, "I did say it was my treat, after all." she said after she got up as well, smiling back at him. As Paula walked over to the main register, she put down some money which had been pulled out from her purse. "Thanks for breakfast, Boss." she said with a cheerful smile.

"You two have fun, alright?" the café owner replied, "Oh, and don't be late tomorrow." he smirked.

Sticking her tongue out at him as she made a funny face, Paula turned back around to Itzal, "Okay, shall we?" she said.

Itzal gave her another gentle smile, “Ready when you are.” He said, opening the door for her. “Hopefully I’ll see you again.” He told the cafe owner. “Your chefs are amazing and I’d like to talk to them one day.”

"Too bad the owner's a jerk though." Paula replied, smirking at 'Boss', who just laughed her off.

"It was nice meeting you, Itzal. Take care of yourself." the café owner replied.

As Paula turned back around and headed out the door, she smiled at Itzal, "Thanks." she said. After that, she held out her cell phone as if she was about to check the time, but since the screen was still sitting on the text message from earlier she suddenly had a realization dawn on her. "Oh, wait a moment!" she said, getting a bit excited for a moment, "I said I'd put in a good word for you, but I don't need to wait until we're there!" she explained, hitting her head for a moment gently as if to emphasize what a moron she was.

Itzal tilted his head, “Oh, that’s right. You mentioned that you were going to talk to the head chef at the mansion about me. I forgot about that myself until you brought it up.” He admitted before turning back and saying his farewells to the cafe owner. “Thank you for doing that by the way, I’m very honored.” He told Paula, once again turning his attention to her.

"No problem!" Paula replied, smiling as she started typing up a text message. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Please don't make a big deal out of it, okay?" Paula said in English to herself, not inherently speaking loudly but she was nevertheless clearly saying what she was typing, "So anyway, I've got someone I want to introduce when I get there. He's one of the guests. I need a favour."

After her text was finished, she turned to Itzal. "We'll catch a cab now." Paula explained.

Itzal nodded, grunting as he adjusted his bag of luggage on his shoulder, once again intrigued by what Paula might be saying in English, however as always, he decided it was best not to question it. He wasn’t even sure if Paula considered him a friend and he wanted to respect the boundaries that were set in place. “Is the mansion far off from here?” He asked her.

"Sort of, but not too far." Paula said, "I wouldn't go there on foot though." she added, and she started leading the way to where they could catch a cab.

The gentle breeze continued to shift in the air, dancing with the leaves and petals that decorated the ground before the Notre Dame. Tatiana tucked her sketch pad into the depths of her carpet bag before standing up, taking in a breath and walking the short distance between the bench she once sat and the large doors of the illustrious cathedral. As she passed the hunchback performer she nodded sweetly and tossed a small handful of one euro bills into the hat that sat next to him on the pedestal. The gracious look in his eyes sent a shiver of good feeling down the older woman's spine, letting the slip of a smile grace her lips before ascending the large steps of the building.

Her shoes stepped firmly on each step as the doors opened as if waiting for her arrival and she entered the cathedral. Her heart fluttered and her throat swelled as the pillars and high arched ceilings came into view. The benches still displayed in rows leading up to the alter a few people scattered here and there sitting between benches and laughing with each other, all tourists from the looks of it. Tatiana walked down the center isle which was brilliantly illuminated by the hanging chandeliers that mirrored each other on either side of the hall marking a walkway towards the small steps that sat before the large windows decorating the end.

Tatiana knelt at the first step once she reached it, crossed her heart and muttered a small prayer that resonated deep within her soul, tugging every emotion, every impulse and every ambition that she'd ever known. Each instance of her life rising to the surface for a moment then slipping back to it's resting place as if whispering words of love, hate, generosity and envy in her ears. Each one bringing it's feeling, it's passion and desire along with it then receding into the depths that was the library of the woman's mind.

When she rose and soft smile settling on her lips, she felt a small tug against the fabric of her lavender jacket and when glancing down, noticed a little boy, perhaps no older then 10 looking up at her in eager anticipation. Speaking in an English so broken by his French accent that it could barely be understood the boy said with the embodiment of innocence, "Exascuse em me mademoiselle, vould you like a tour of sis cathedral?" The boys eyes were large and green, his hair was a dirty blonde almost brown and his hands were small and frail.

Tatiana, whose heart had melted nodded as eagerly as the boy outwardly seemed and proceeded to receive a tour of the great establishment from the energetic boy who was so happy to have a customer that he began talking so quickly and so sporadically, mixing between French and broken English that Tatiana began to simply nod at this explanations of rooms, halls and stair cases whether she understood what he had said or not. This boy, this child working his way into his next meal brought so much joy and so much sorrow to the woman that she couldn't help but love him with each excited burst and miscommunicated fact.

As the tour concluded and Tatianas legs began to waver from so much movement in so little time, she gave the little boy the largest tip he would ever see to which he burst onto her in a hug filled with tears, thank yous and laughter. The hugs were of course returned graciously and genuinely before she left the boy behind to find other tourists to give guides to. She began making her way down the stairs of the cathedral once again as the bells rang for the noon hour. Loud, powerful and emotional rings vibrated off the floor of the courtyard as each passer, whether foreign or otherwise, glanced up even if just for an instance at the origin location of the rings.

Tatiana headed towards the nearest café, ordering herself a sandwich to which she would eat on her journey then flagged a taxi giving him the address given to her before sitting comfortably within it, eating her sandwich as the taxi made it's way from the location.

11:26 AM – A local cafe near the airport.

“It's a little annoying lugging all this luggage around the block. Even more so waiting for this ride. I don't have too much patience for idling sitting by. At least I can enjoy myself at this wonderful cafe.”

She sighed to herself. From her purse, she extracted a small pink journal that was closed by a pink elastic strap. She pulled it away and opened its blank contents. It was a fresh journal that she took along for the trip to document her adventures. If there was one thing that would take her mind off anything, it was writing. Writing was a sort of her zen moment. It was something to bring her calm and balance to her current mindset and pour her feelings and ideas into it. The writer reached into her purse once more and pulled out her special writing pen. She was quite particular about pens. It was a good quality pink fountain pen with a gold plated tip. It had a sort of floral design to it. She placed the book, opened on the first page on the table and began writing with her left. Her writing was something to be proud of. Her cursive writing was a thing of art. It was a dying writing style in this modern age. Not many people could read and write it these days.

“Day 0 – The Humdrum Arrival” She titled her first page. “I was let down by this mysterious person's offer, Lucifer Van Bonaparte. From what I understand from the pages of time, he was quite a revered person in history, being one of the powerful men to help humanity evolve to the future. A legend. My disappointment was more so a personal quarrel. I was given an extravagant vacation in France, a dream of every traveler, every couple. The City of Love was what France was coined. But, when my partner in crime was the one not invited to this gift, I had the mind to decline. He didn't have the means to make such an expensive travel plan nor the time to abruptly drop everything he was building in his life. It was unfair. It was also unfair that this mysterious man would send me these terms and conditions. I had to leave my boyfriend behind in pursuit of this wish that he had promised, despite his objections. I promised him that when I come back to him, we will have a night of fun.”

She wrote for about 5 minutes before the waiter arrived with her sandwich and earl gray tea. He carefully placed the food in front of her as she passive waved at him as thanks. She awkwardly took the sandwich with her right and took a bite.

“I thought France was the culinary center of the world. This sandwich sucks. For a cafe that looks rather quaint on the forefront, the food was rather bland. It's deceptive. A fraud. I should write a review of this place later on.”

She took a mental note before taking in another bite. She hoped that the food at the mansion would be luxurious. She had high hopes. It was about another 10 minutes before she finished her sandwich and side. She quickly called upon the waiter with a request for her check. He gave her a dirty look, only to be overpowered by 'the look'. It was as if she was injecting fear into the unfortunate lad that he scurried to the back with the empty plates from her table and returned to produce a check. Lotus gave a slight chuckle through that ordeal.

“It's quite funny to see men tremble before the woman's glare. If only it worked on my boyfriend.”

She paid the waiter and gave him a cheap tip for his mediocre performance and his rude challenge. She collected her belongings and proceeded to the rally point.

12:10 PM – The Arrival Point.

Lotus strolled down the block until she arrived at the front of the hotel, the meeting point. There wasn't much human traffic around the hotel. It was after noon. She still had around 5 more hours of waiting before the pick up. She scanned around her and found a bench nearly. The other end was occupied by another person, a rather slim, timid looking girl. She let out a small chuckle and planted herself on the other end. She was finally relieved as she placed her luggage down and secured it around her. From her purse, she brought out a small notebook. It was also blank as her journal. She flipped to the first page and took out her trusty pen and began writing random things. She looked up and observed the buildings around her as well as the people.

“Buildings are rather aged, but stood the test of time. It has been modernized to fit today's needs but is still restricted by its past. People around here are rather rude in nature. A couple of men tried to hit on me and a waiter dared to challenge me to a staring game.”

Her eyes glanced at the girl while still focused on her notebook.

“A timid looking girl beside me. Pale skinned. Deep brown hair. I feel like I could scare her and she would run away. So many things I could have fun with.”

Then while jotting down her notes, she began to speak with the girl.

“How are you, Girlfriend? How's your day going?”

The noise of the train tracks, in their repetitive motion and constant sequence, had long since faded into a peaceful background. Like the rolling hills and passing skies, it seemed another aspect of a simple landscape. The lull of the gentle sounds and sights led Sonya to slumber, despite the sunlight falling in through the windows. She had chosen to leave for Paris on the very last day possible, taking the train overnight. Priorities, she claimed, must realize the worth of a career over pleasure. The other women at the shelter had nagged her to leave earlier, to enjoy the sights and wonders of the most romantic city on Earth. Finally, after 20 years of living in the cold and barren lands of the North-Eastern ends of the continent, she would see and feel the warmth of the West.

The train had gone on for more hours than Sonya normally slept in a week, having begun its trek yesterday morning. The motion of the train was soothing, somehow, to both Sonya and her baby son. Little Dmitri slept peacefully in her arms, wrapped in a woolen blanket, an image of a perfect calm. Though their accommodations were public transportation, the two had the car to themselves. It was nothing significant, it was nothing new, but it was exciting nonetheless. The empty car, the empty station, the silent conductor, had all contributed to this aura of mystique. An air of mystery was built around this journey, which offered at the end the previously impossible destination of potential sanctuary. In the meantime, she could enjoy the solace and comfort of the steady rhythm of the train tracks, as she gradually woke to the fluctuating horizon.

Dmitri woke in an instant, and cried out with a soft noise. Sonya rocked him, as the train began to slow. The natural landscape had changed, to the shape of a city. To her first glance, Paris seemed anachronistic; the classic architecture, reflective of centuries old techniques, were mixed in with modern structures, with no sense of order among their scattered forms. Some were familiar, some hauntingly so, while most were strange and foreign. New.

The train station, the usually thriving Station Châtelet – Les Halles, was empty, as the station in Poland had been at her departure the previous morning. Sonya took her time in leaving the car, and station. In one arm, she held her groggy son, while her opposite hand held the strap of a satchel containing all she needed for her stay in this place. Sonya wore her best clothes, a brushed cotton pantsuit, paired with her only pumps. Her son was dressed in a similar fashion, as the tiny child wore a suit, complete with a tie. She had sewn the outfit herself, in an assumption that the other invitees might have higher expectations of socioeconomic status than she could fulfill in her usual dress.

Upon exiting the station, Sonya was met with the busy streets of Paris. A cobbled mixture of residents and tourists, they all seemed equivalent strangers in her eyes. Inconspicuous, even with her dark skin among a mostly white crowd, Sonya moved through the crowd with a leisurely ease. No one bumped into her, for who would disturb a mother holding a baby in the mid morning? Untouched as she walked through the people of Paris, Sonya pulled from the satchel that fateful envelope.

The letter had arrived on her birthday, the first since she had left Russia, but not by any conventional method. The address of the shelter was unlisted, unable to receive mail in the traditional fashion. No, the letter had arrived in the hands of her baby, or rather, his mouth. He was at the early stages of teething at that point, and gnawed on anything he could find. Where he had found the letter, Sonya did not question. Within it, there were few documents- among them, a map of Paris, with directions written in Russian, with a transliteration into French, as if to dictate to a cabbie. Finding the station marked on the map, and tracing her optional paths, Sonya developed a plan. The residence she was meant to attend could be either a short car ride, or a several hour long walk.

There was a beauty here, something new, undiscovered to Sonya. She had known Paris in stories, in pictures, and in books. She had learned of its wonders through the words and experiences of others, but never had she herself stepped foot in such a bountiful treasure. It was something she wished to savor, to cherish, for the brief tenure of her stay at the residence Bonaparte. She therefore chose to walk. Tying the satchel over her shoulder, Sonya pulled her son close. He laughed, a soft little giggle, bringing a smile to his mother's face. Tucking the envelope and its contents into her bag, Sonya began her journey towards a new life.