Chapter 7
"For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions—is not from the Father but is from the world."
Ephesians 5:18
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Safira awoke to the sound of the bells, beckoning the citizens of Paris to the early morning sermon. She lay in bed for a moment, hypnotized by their call before she stood and began to ready herself for church. Knowing she would disrupt the service with a late presence if she waited to bid Quasimodo good morning, she rushed herself and began to descend down into the cathedral.
Safira made it to the bottom of the steps, the calm mumbling of people's prayers flowing into her ears. She immediately spotted Phoebus standing against one of the stone pillars in the very back of the church, caught by surprise at the other's presence. She quietly walked in his direction. Phoebus, having seen her from the corner of his eye, stared ahead as he listened to the archdeacon's readings.
She stood beside him, leaning against his arm as she crossed her own against her chest and stared ahead; anyone looking at these two would assume Safira was Phoebus' younger brother in the manner in which they stood together. Phoebus looked down at the shorter soldier with a light smirk, affectionate warmth radiating from his brown eyes.
They stood in silence until the archdeacon finished the service. Phoebus waited until the majority of people left the church before addressing Safira.
"Lovely service, wasn't it?"
"Indeed," She smirked up at the captain, "It's an even lovelier day outside."
His expression tensed immediately. Even right after a service and inside a church, Safira had no qualms about irritating him and bringing up the age-old argument about her staying inside the cathedral.
"Don't even start," He warned lowly, "I'm in a perfectly good mood… Don't spoil it."
Before she could retort, she stopped when she heard a voice that forced her face to pale. Frollo's deep voice echoed through the cathedral as he began to eagerly approach them.
"Captain Phoebus, how nice to see you in church," Frollo spoke from behind Phoebus' back.
Phoebus tensed immediately, turning swiftly and shielding Safira with his back. Without realizing, she pressed herself against his armored back, closing her eyes tightly for a moment as Phoebus attempted to distract Frollo.
"Good morning, sir," Phoebus greeted him politely, "Beautiful service, wasn't it?"
"I'm afraid I missed it, I'm just arriving," Frollo's eyes glanced curiously over Phoebus' shoulder, "Was it just my imagination or did I see you with someone?"
It was no use pretending to act like she was invisible. Releasing Phoebus' back, she stepped from behind the captain, her face kept neutral despite her raging emotions. She stared up at the taller judge with cold, hard eyes. After seeing his eyes widen for a moment, she thought she had been recognized. Her heart was racing as she anticipated rage or shock. But to her immense surprise, she was offered a cold smile instead.
"Why hello there, young man," Frollo addressed Phoebus as he pat Safira's head as one would a child. "Friend of yours, Captain?"
She resisted the urge to smack his hand away and opted rolling her hands into painfully tight fists at her side.
"Just a regular church-goer," Phoebus smiled, feeling immensely uneasy as Frollo continued to study Safira's face intensely, "Right?"
"That's right, sir," Safira forced a tight smile, "Church. Every Sunday. Haven't missed a day my entire life."
"Ah, I see, well it's always a pleasure to meet the unknown people of Paris," Frollo dismissed himself with a nod, "Good day, gentlemen."
Safira and Phoebus watched as Frollo ascended to the bell tower. She waited until his footsteps could no longer be heard before turning towards Phoebus but he was already scolding her.
"You see why I want you to stay hidden?!" He spoke in a low, harsh whisper.
"Oh, relax!" She crossed her arms over her chest, "Jesus, you're starting to sound like the bell ringer."
He hadn't met the bell ringer but Phoebus had heard a great deal about him from Safira. From the sounds of him, he sounded just as concerned and worried for Safira's safety as Phoebus was. It was frustrating that she didn't seem to take the situation as seriously as they did.
"You know," Phoebus spoke slowly as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep calm, "We're doing our best to keep you safe. The least you can do to thank us is by listening to what we say."
Safira bit the inside of her cheek but she was as stubborn as she was temperamental. She would have normally bit out a snarky remark but seeing how stressed Phoebus looked at the moment, she swallowed her pride and nodded curtly.
"Okay, I will… I'll stay out of sight."
He looked up with surprise, not having expected her to give in so easily.
"You will?"
"Yes, I will… but not for long. I need to find a way out of Paris."
"I'll find a way for you," Phoebus assured her.
The blonde pat Safira's back roughly before exiting the cathedral. She exhaled lowly, bringing a hand to the back of her neck, squeezing the tension from her body. Unable to go to the bell tower, she opted for exploring the unknown areas of the cathedral until Frollo departed.
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Quasimodo had not been expecting his master's arrival quite so early. He was, however, grateful that Safira wasn't there. Frollo had begun his visit normally, asking Quasimodo how he was and sitting at the small table where they usually ate. Quasimodo felt at ease around his master for the first time since Safira arrived. Grabbing plates for their breakfast, Quasimodo left his master alone at the table.
Frollo took the time to glance casually around the bell tower until his eyes locked to what looked like a pile of metal. Black metal.
Quasimodo returned, distracting Frollo.
"Yes, well," Frollo cleared his throat, opening the bible he held in his hand, "Shall we recite some verses?"
"Yes, Master."
Quasimodo's reciting of the bible verses soon fell on deaf ears as Frollo brought his eyes back to the pile of metal. He narrowed his eyes enough to make out the pieces of what looked like armor. A soldier's armor.
No, he thought to himself, Impossible.
It had been months since his soldiers had searched the cathedral high and low for the traitorous captain. He couldn't still be hiding in the church. Surely, he had merely left his armor after he escaped, knowing full well he would recognized if he wore it out of the cathedral. Yes, that had to be it.
"Master?"
Frollo blinked and looked at Quasimodo, forcing a tight smile. Frollo had not even noticed when Quasimodo finished reciting.
"Excellent, dear boy."
He shut the book and set it down, slowly standing and walking towards Quasimodo's crafting table. Quasimodo ate his breakfast quietly, completely oblivious to his master's current suspicions.
Frollo stood by the table in which the miniature city of Paris was so beautifully crafted. He scanned it with sharp eagle eyes, searching for something but he wasn't sure what until he caught sight of two unfamiliar figurines:
The first was a swordsman, completely garbed save for the two blue dotted eyes. He glanced at the second figurine and felt his blood run cold at the sight of the peasant boy who also had two dots of blue for eyes. He took in every single detail from the raggedy boots to the simple hat.
His mind was beginning to question everything, unraveling each piece of evidence he somehow overlooked the last couple of months; Losing the soldier at the cathedral, placing a guard at every door yet not having anyone suspicious leave the cathedral. He thought to the blue-eyed peasant boy he had just met who, strangely, he had never seen before despite his claims that he had been regularly coming to church every Sunday "all his life."
Frollo wove the pieces together in his mind, comparing the vision of the boy to his soldier's. Though he had never seen Captain Sacha's face, he clearly remembered his eyes; eyes so blue and intensely hollow that they couldn't possibly be shared by anyone else. The similarities in height and other small details seemed to start making an awful lot of sense.
Keeping his temper under control, Frollo grit his teeth at the realization that Captain Sacha Charbonneau was not only alive and well – and a child, no less – but being housed by his adoptive son. Frollo turned towards the ignorant hunchback, managing to mask his fury with cool, calm collectiveness.
Enjoy your freedom while you can, Sacha.
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Safira kept her promise to Phoebus and made herself scarce. She hid on the south side of the cathedral until Frollo was gone before making her way back to the bell tower. Somehow, the thought of remaining in the bell tower all day didn't displease her as it had in the past. She enjoyed Quasimodo's presence and each day that passed, she spent more time inside the cathedral than outside.
Hearing her footsteps, Quasimodo looked up, his face breaking into a bright smile. She felt her stomach churn for some unknown reason as he began to approach her eagerly.
"Hey, are you ready to finish what you started?" He asked anxiously.
He was referring to the wooden figurine that she had given up on a while ago. She shrugged with a light smirk. Though she wasn't too keen on continuing, she found it impossible to say no when he looked at her with such expectancy. Regardless, there was nothing better to do; the sound of a light rain and lack of sunshine signaled to her that she couldn't go out even if she really wanted to.
"Sure, why the hell not?" She walked to the desk and sat down, grabbing the knife and unfinished figurine, "Twelfth time's the charm, right?"
Quasimodo chuckled as he moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. He shook his head with a smile when he noticed that, once again, she began to carve too hard and too much. Her personality was reflected in her wood-carving; she was impatient and rough around the edges. Most – if not all – of their sessions ended in her tossing everything onto the table and walking off muttering her frustrations incoherently yet she continued to try time and time again.
"Here, let me help you," He reached around her, placing his hands over hers, "Hold the knife like this."
Safira stiffened as she felt his chest press against her back. He was so close, she could feel his breath against her ear. She shuddered lowly yet somehow she didn't think it was due to the cool, rainy breeze that flowed through the bell tower.
"Remember, small pieces," He reminded her softly, his large hands gently guiding her through the carving.
Safira suddenly felt the need to swallow her spit as an inexplicable heat began to radiate from her neck up to her cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat as his large hands guided her with surprising gentleness. Alarmed at the unfamiliar emotion that overcame her, she released a loud clearing of her throat as she suddenly stood up, clumsily bringing the knife to Quasimodo's palm.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed, more from surprise than actual pain.
He jumped back away from her to look down at his palm as it began to bleed, the carving knife dropped to the ground.
"I'm sorry!" She looked at his hand wide-eyed.
"It's okay," He brushed it off, "It's not too bad."
He rushed to grab a piece of cloth and wrapped it tightly around his palm. He looked up at her now and noted the flushing of her face.
"Are you okay?" He frowned curiously.
"Yes," She nodded, bringing a hand to her forehead as if trying to search for a fever.
A sudden flash of lightning startled them both, the cloudy day darkening more so. Quasimodo, having grown to know Safira pretty well, noticed her discomfort immediately.
"You're not afraid of lightning too, are you?" He smiled lightly.
Safira wasn't afraid of lightning but she disliked it immensely as it reminded her of the dreadful night she lost her parents. She composed herself, throwing her shoulders back and staring at the hunchback warningly.
"Okay, one," She began haughtily, "I am not afraid of lightning. Two, there is 'too' because I am not afraid of anything."
Quasimodo raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile.
"I don't have to prove anything," She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Alright, suit yourself," Quasimodo shrugged before heading out to the balcony.
"Where are you going?" She frowned.
"I'm going to enjoy the rain. You can stay inside if you'd like."
She watched him hobble off onto the balcony, remaining where she was for only a moment before she begrudgingly followed him. She felt sprinkling of light rain on her face, her eyes glued to Quasimodo. He hopped onto a ledge and walked across the long neck of a gargoyle before sitting on the edge, his leg dangling. He hadn't even used the vertical pillars that connected to the rest of the architecture to balance himself as he walked.
Her eyes widened at his recklessness, her stomach dropping at the terrifying sight of his actions.
"Get off from there, you dolt!"
Quasimodo merely laughed in response, looking over his shoulder and waving her over.
"Come on!"
"No, now get off."
"Relax," He shook his head, standing to face her, "I've done this a thousand times. Come on, you're going to miss it."
Safira was beginning to feel anxious at the sight of him standing over the gargoyle's head, fearing that at any moment he would lose his balance and fall. She felt relief when he began to walk towards her only to have him grab her wrists and pull her towards him. She pulled back, her eyes widening.
"No!" She cried out, yanking him towards her but he was much stronger than she. He managed to drag her onto the ledge, forcing her to take a couple of steps until she was at the base of the gargoyle's stretched neck.
"Come on!" He urged her, "If you keep pulling away then we'll both fall."
She stopped immediately, her eyes never leaving his face. She was afraid and it finally showed. Quasimodo was fascinated at the sight of her in that moment; he had never seen the other look so… human. He took in the dilating of her pupils and the parting of her lips as he continued to pull her forward.
She gripped his hands before lowly speaking, "Don't make me do this."
He almost changed his mind when he saw how frightened she truly was. Almost. As he squeezed the other's small hands, he offered a reassuring smile.
"I know you can do it."
Safira licked her dry lips, her breath coming in short and quiet gasps. The rain was beginning to grow heavier. She was rooted to the spot, ready to pull away at the slightest movement he made.
"Just like before," Quasimodo reminded her, "I'll take a step back and you take a step forward. The trick is not to look down. Ready?"
He didn't wait for an answer before he took a step backwards. Safira listened to his advice and kept her eyes forward, locked onto his face. They were both drenched in rain, beads dropping from her hat and onto her face. She licked the rain off her lips instinctively. She took several steps forward before a flash of lightning brought her to another halt.
"Don't be afraid," He grinned, "We're almost there."
When they finally reached the pillars, Quasimodo allowed Safira to use them to stabilize herself. She was grateful for the architecture connected to the pillars that blocked the rain. Quasimodo walked ahead before holding out his hand.
"Come on."
"I've come this far," She shook her head, "I've proven you enough-"
"This isn't about proving it to me."
She stared at his hand before looking up into his eyes. His smile had never faltered. Kindness glistened in his eyes like two pools of gentle turquoise. She, strangely, felt less fearful when she looked upon his face.
"I'm not going to let you fall," He reminded her.
She released a heavy sigh of frustration before taking his hand and reluctantly letting go of the pillar. She held her breath as he pulled her against him so that her back pressed against his chest. She shuddered as he stood behind her, leaving her with the clear view of the murky view of Paris. She could hear the rainwater rushing from the gargoyle's open mouth. If she were to bend down at the moment, she could scoop up the water in her hands. They were both drenched in rain but Safira's fear distracted her from the cold.
"I'm going to let go of your arms."
Safira's eyes widened as Quasimodo sat down, his legs dangling off either side of the gargoyle's neck. She began to panic and reached desperately for him.
"Quasi-"
"Sit down," He urged her, grabbing a hold of her hands to pull her down.
She closed her eyes as she slowly curled into a ball, slowly extending one leg out and letting it hang. She inhaled and exhaled slowly and let the other leg down, her hands resting on the gargoyle's long neck in between her legs. Quasimodo let go of her with a chuckle.
"You did it."
She slowly opened her eyes, her breaths coming out in visible puffs of white as a cold breeze picked up. She hated to admit it but the gloomy sight of the city was strangely beautiful, especially when lighted by the silver whips of lightning. When she began to relax, that was when she started noticing how cold it was. As the rain poured down upon them, she began to lean back against the hunchback's chest in an effort to be warmed.
She was trembling from the cold to which Quasimodo grabbed her upper arms and began rubbing them roughly. She closed her eyes at the feel of his hands, suddenly not so cold anymore.
"Come on, let's get back inside," The hunchback pat the other's back in a friendly manner, bringing her out of her brief moment of warm serenity.
"Great…" Safira growled lowly, much to Quasimodo's amusement.
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When they walked back towards the balcony, Quasimodo had run inside with Safira chasing after him. He was laughing as she yelled hollow threats at him for having pressured her into doing what she did. Quasimodo ran up to the ladder that led to the bells, climbing them swiftly.
"Get back here!" She grabbed onto the ladder and climbed up after him.
She could hear his laughter as he ran across the wooden beam. She felt a smile threatening to tug at her lips as she reached the top and began to run after him. But the hunchback leapt from one beam to the next with surprising agility, forcing Safira to take a different path.
She finally caught up to him only to see him standing next to one of the bells, rope in hand. She narrowed her eyes at him as she approached him, punching his arm lightheartedly.
"I should hang you by this rope."
"You could," He agreed, "Or you could thank me."
"For what?" She scoffed in disbelief.
"Look at where you are now."
She stopped and realized that she had climbed up the ladder and ran across the wooden beams without a second thought. She looked down and felt only a bit uneasy. She brought her gaze back up to him as he handed her the rope.
"How about you ring the evening mass tonight?"
A smirk spread on her face as she rolled up her sleeves. Quasimodo watched as she rubbed her hands together and grabbed onto the rope. She grunted as she pulled with every bit of strength she had.
Nothing.
She growled and tugged once more, this time hanging off of the rope with her entire body weight but managed to only bring a dull fade of the bell ringing. Quasimodo chuckled before taking the rope from her and with almost no effort and tugged it. The mesmerizing ringing of the bells cried out to the worshippers of Paris and flooded Safira's ears almost painfully.
Safira stood back with hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. She managed to look unimpressed though she was anything but. Her eyes grazed his tree-like arms, the sheer strength of them bringing a chill down her spine. Those same hands were the ones that had pinned her down effortlessly the first time they met, nearly breaking her. Yet, they were also the same hands that carved figurines delicately and very gently held her hands as she faced her fear of heights.
So mesmerized by his show of strength, she had been caught off guard when he reached for her. She gasped as his arm slid around her waist, his other hand holding onto the rope as he swung down. She wrapped her arms around his short neck, her eyes shut tightly until he landed on the bell tower floor with a loud thud.
She could feel his form shaking as he suppressed laughter. She felt her cheeks reddening as she released him immediately, shoving him none-too-gently.
"Show off," She mumbled embarrassedly, bringing her hand to the back of her neck.
He chuckled kindly as he noted the other's discomfiture. He found it oddly endearing.
"You should change," He suggested as he headed to his bedroom to change into dry clothes as well.
Safira waited until he closed his bedroom door before sauntering off to her corner. She removed her hat and shook off the excess water as she dried her long locks with the rag. She kept her eyes locked onto his door as she urgently removed her blouse and wrung it dry, water splashing onto the floor, before she swiftly put it back on.
When she heard the door to Quasimodo's bedroom start opening, she immediately placed her hat back on and tucked her hair underneath it. She continued to dry herself off casually as Quasimodo shuffled through the bell tower with clean, dry clothes.
He walked over to the small, hanging fireplace in the center of the tower and started a fire. She watched him as he spread pillows in front of it as well as a blanket. Quasimodo sat in front of the fire, warming his hands before he looked over his shoulder at her.
"Come sit down," Quasimodo called out to Safira.
Safira walked over slowly, almost hesitantly. She eventually slid over to sit beside him, sighing contently as the fire's warmth engulfed her freezing form.
"Here," Quasimodo grabbed a blanket and draped it over Safira, "You'll catch your death of a cold."
"Yes, mother," Safira scoffed, annoyed at the same flutter in her stomach she felt earlier when they were carving wood.
They sat in silence with only the crackling of the fire and the sound of the outside rain filling the quietness. It was neither uncomfortable nor awkward.
"What was it like?" Quasimodo suddenly asked, bringing Safira's eyes to him, "When you finally left?"
She didn't need to ask what he referred to. She thought back to the night Clopin had taken her to the Festival of Fools and ignored the small pang of sadness that came with the memories. She wondered if it would ever be easy to talk about.
"Well…" She began slowly, "It was… indescribable. I saw and felt things I could only ever dream of."
Quasimodo listened to her words carefully.
"After… what happened," He referred to the death of her parents, "… Did you regret leaving?"
He watched as she stared at the fire. The flames provided a heavenly glow to Safira, bringing out the femininity in her features that Quasimodo hadn't really noticed before.
"No," She finally answered in a low whisper, breaking him out of his scrutiny.
She turned to face him now, alarming him with the depth he suddenly saw in her usually hollow eyes. He wasn't sure if it was the fire or his mind playing tricks on him. Her eyes were like blue flames that seemed to bore into his soul. It was the same look in her eyes he had seen only once before when she apologized to him for her drunkenness. The same look that brought a breathtaking view into the person she insisted on keeping locked away.
"The night I left was when I stopped being blind," She continued lowly, "And I think you should do the same. You know… go out there."
Quasimodo blinked in surprise, "M-Me?"
"Yes," She nodded.
He began to shake his head, stuttering as if the very thought horrified him.
"I-I couldn't-"
"Quasimodo," She interrupted him firmly before slapping him with hard truth, "People will not react the way you want them to. People will be scared, yes. Some people may be cruel. But that's who they are and it has nothing to do with you."
He looked at her, frowning confusedly. She shifted in her seat to face him completely, bringing her hand to her chest.
"When you look at me," Her voice softened, "Do you think I'm a-"
"No!" He exclaimed, refusing to let her finish, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I don't think that at all. You're good a-and honest!"
Safira clenched her jaw as she looked towards the fire, her hand dropping from her chest and onto her lap. Quasimodo watched her face carefully. She seemed to be thinking to herself, as if she were unsure about saying what she was going to say. Eventually, she exhaled slowly before turning her gaze back to him.
"Quasimodo, I'm not who you think I am."
"Look," He brought both hands to her shoulders now, "Whatever you did in the past has nothing to do with the person you are now."
"No," She shrugged off his grip, both the blanket and his hands sliding off of her, "I haven't been completely open about who I am."
"None of that matters to me," Quasimodo pressed on, offering a comforting smile to his friend.
"But-"
She stopped mid-sentence, suddenly looking over Quasimodo's shoulder with great interest. Her features suddenly darkened. She slowly stood up, her eyes boring into the pile of armor that had been removed from her corner and thrown into another location.
"What?" Quasimodo frowned, noting the sudden change in her.
"How long has that been there?" She pointed at the armor.
"Oh, I don't know. I've been meaning to throw it out," He stood up as well.
She felt an inexplicable panic, her fists clenching and unclenching.
"Where does Frollo sit when he comes to visit you?" She asked suddenly, anxiety in her voice.
His brow furrowed at the sudden question. He looked towards the table not too far from where the pile of armor lay.
"U-Um, right over here," He walked over to the table where they usually had their lunch.
Safira walked over and sat in Frollo's spot shakily. From his point of view, the armor was in clear sight. It was impossible to miss it. With someone as observant as Frollo, it would surprise her if he had. She thought to when she had seen him earlier that morning. The brief surprise when he had first looked at her was suddenly important.
"He knows," She whispered, losing the color on her face.
Quasimodo followed her gaze and understood what she meant. He shook his head, in denial. He was ready to assure her that Frollo probably hadn't noticed. If Quasimodo knew Frollo the way he thought he did, the minister would have confronted Quasimodo right then and there if he had noticed it.
But just as he opened his mouth to tell Safira that, sounds of a racket coming from outside grabbed their attention. They both exchanged wide-eyes looks before rushing over to the balcony together.
Peering over it, they both watched in horror as Frollo pulled up with several soldiers, including Phoebus. Quasimodo brought his hands to his hair, gripping it with a gasp. Safira felt the wind being knocked out of her as she came to the awful realization that she was right. Frollo had seen the armor.
"They're here!" She choked out.
They had been found out. Soldiers were now invading the cathedral. Sanctuary meant nothing at this point to Safira.
Without a second thought, Quasimodo roughly grabbed Safira's wrist and began to run. He began to head towards the south tower steps but the sound of soldiers coming from that area forced him back. They could hear the clashing of metal as soldiers raced up towards the bell tower, the rain still pouring heavily. Safira felt a rush of dread fill her veins as Quasimodo scooped her up in his arms and began to run towards the balcony.
"Hang on," He slid her onto his back as a gorilla would its young.
She clung to him with a choking gasp as he hopped off the ledge and began to climb down the cathedral. With the rain pouring down from the night sky, she could see very little. Grunts and gasps would escape Safira as he made sudden and terrifying jumps and movements. She clung to his, shuddering from the rain's cold, unable to keep her eyes open much longer. She opened them when he made a final jump, reaching the bottom of a religious statue.
Safira was trembling by the time Quasimodo knelt down, allowing her to slide off his back slowly. She sat down on the ledge, her legs dangling from it. She was ready to hop off but she hesitated. She brought her eyes to the anxious man, unable to jump.
"Go," Quasimodo spoke urgently, staring at her expectantly but she was rooted to the spot.
She only stared at him with an expression he was unfamiliar with. He looked upwards to ensure no soldiers were peering down at them from above. He turned back to look at her and whispered harshly.
"What are you waiting for?! Go!"
Safira grit her teeth, rolling and unrolling her hands into fists as she seemed to be struggling with something internally. Quasimodo stared at her incredulity.
"What are you waiting-"
He was cut off as his shirt was gripped by Safira's small fists, pulling him into a fierce embrace. She closed her eyes, hugging him tightly as if she were afraid he would disappear any moment. Quasimodo's eyes widened at the sudden hold, stiffening tensely. When he stopped to think, he realized this could quite possibly be the last time he saw her again.
The hunchback closed his eyes and returned her hug with a firm one of this own. The adrenaline rush was wearing out, a hollow pit suddenly developing in his stomach. Safira shuddered lowly at the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around her middle, feeling a contentment she hadn't felt in so long. She turned her face towards his neck, clutching him so tightly.
Why was it so difficult to let go?
"Thank you," Safira finally whispered softly against him.
Before he could say anything else, she tore herself away from him and hopped down onto the ground, sprinting away from the cathedral. Quasimodo watched with a heavy heart as his only friend ran and disappeared into the rain.
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Author's Note:
I am continuously amazed and humbled by your wonderful reviews.
I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter.
~ Laruto
