*I don't own a Monster In Paris or its characters
Its been a while. You know how it is when life interferes with your craft and stunts the free flow of creativity. Hopefully you'll enjoy!
Chapter 16: 45 days left
During their walks, whether it be daytime or evening, he carried himself with an air of a devoted gentleman. Side by side they walked, on sunnier days she carried a parasol, and Francoeur nearest to the street just in case cars splashed water, or if they sped by so she would be safe. Even if he didn't talk back, he'd listen to her animated expressions, piecing together an image as she described her latest dreams or ideas for new songs. Soon it would be spring, and the blooms of earthly and natural things would flourish. And he was starting to understand something that he had not acknowledged before.
It is true that he cared for Lucille, but his reactions and emotions could have been related to youth. Now, as he says approaching his golden years, he had decisions to make, those deciding how to live out the rest of his days. He had to tell her at some point, but for the moment, it wasn't the time yet. He would care for her well being, and protect her, at least until he had to let her go. Lucille, his Lucille, oh if only he knew, what could be done
As far as Lucille was concerned, she had little to worry about. Her attentive lover was by her side, the weather was pleasant, and her aunt was too busy to scold her about dance practice. However, there were still things that bothered her. For example, the older ones gave them glares of disapproval, or Francoeur seemed more sedate, but what truly bothered her was the words of young children who called Francoeur venomous things. It did make her think from time to time, whether or not she thought him handsome.
True, he did walk slightly hunched over, his eyes were unlike people's eyes, his skin smooth, but hard. If anything, he was physically ugly. When they first met, like anyone else, she reacted terribly, but it didn't matter anymore. He had won her over with kindness, and a tender heart not prone to anger or violence. Even if the rumor of the Monster in Paris was dying, she hated to watch him flinch ever slightly at though a chill passed through him, or the wild look of fear when the screams of children were heard in the distance.
Yet, she could not, at least not yet, allow herself to reveal her true sentiments. There was so much she did not know, so much she wanted to see. Lucille was not completely certain if her future included him. Nearby, dear Francoeur was feeding the birds with crumbs of dried bread. His clicks made them dance around him in eagerness. Funny, Raoul would have been sneezing his head off if he were here.
The future was uncertain, and neither were sure what bloom would represent their spring, or if they were ready for the change that was fast approaching.