Hello! *waves like an excited octopus* Here's a little something - no characters listed because it's for you to guess. :-)
13/10/14
She Saw Him in Paris
The first time she saw him in Paris, it was accidental. She had not expected to ever see him again, but now that she had, dormant feelings resurfaced. Hatred. Anger. Betrayal. Love? He stood with two companions, all three decorated with various weapons, swords and pistols, with daggers hidden in the folds of their cloaks no doubt. Unlike his companions, however, he had no leather pauldron on his shoulder.
The second time she saw him in Paris, it was deliberate. She sought him out because she wanted to see what a man like him looked like after he gained the commission of a Musketeer. He was the same. He still looked as if he carried the burden of a thousand souls. Just a pretence, of course. The only difference was the leather pauldron on his shoulder.
She saw him frequently after that, even if she did not want to. Musketeers had the annoying habit of turning up wherever her patron sent her. He never saw her, she made sure of that. She skulked in the shadows, allowing the darkness to consume her, willing herself to leave, to flee. But she was never able to…even now, he drew her in, like a moth to a flame. She tried not to get too close though. She did not want to burn again. He had the ability to stop her heart, figuratively and literally, and she hated him for it. She was convinced she did. Once, she got close (too close - he still wore her locket). It took everything in her to remind herself she hated him. Yes, she hated him.
The last time she saw him in Paris, it was the end. She knew it. He knew it. Yet, neither of them believed it. There can never be any peace for either of them as long as they both live. They will forever be intertwined, no matter how much they fight it. They can never be though, not again, not like before, never like before. And never like something new either - because she has fallen, and he wears a leather pauldron on his shoulder.
Some mistakes can never be corrected.