Post by jourdainka on Jun 1, 2008 12:59:08 GMT -5
12:00 am:
Anastasiya stepped lightly onto the grass, relishing the softness and coolness beneath her bare feet. The full skirt of her short white dress swirled about her thighs in the breeze. She gathered her long, starlit hair into a loose braid and sighed.
She realized had missed Paris deeply, it being one of the few places she had no ill memories of. The bustle of London was taxing, and Hollywood was ultimately not a place where one could go unnoticed. . .but Paris, Paris was a place where you were allowed to just be. Nobody questioned your reasons for coming and going.
The night air was thick and balmy, fireflies dancing around, hovering near the damp ground and lighting on plants. Anya felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had escaped the Russian coven, if only for a few days. Her beautiful face burst into a radiant smile. She twirled around, not caring any about appearing serious any longer. Then, feeling like a child again, careless and happy, she flopped down onto her back on the grass.
"Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose. . ." she sang to herself, remembering how much she loved the language. Just as she was about to sing the second verse, her senses went on alert: someone else was there.
Anastasiya stepped lightly onto the grass, relishing the softness and coolness beneath her bare feet. The full skirt of her short white dress swirled about her thighs in the breeze. She gathered her long, starlit hair into a loose braid and sighed.
She realized had missed Paris deeply, it being one of the few places she had no ill memories of. The bustle of London was taxing, and Hollywood was ultimately not a place where one could go unnoticed. . .but Paris, Paris was a place where you were allowed to just be. Nobody questioned your reasons for coming and going.
The night air was thick and balmy, fireflies dancing around, hovering near the damp ground and lighting on plants. Anya felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had escaped the Russian coven, if only for a few days. Her beautiful face burst into a radiant smile. She twirled around, not caring any about appearing serious any longer. Then, feeling like a child again, careless and happy, she flopped down onto her back on the grass.
"Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose. . ." she sang to herself, remembering how much she loved the language. Just as she was about to sing the second verse, her senses went on alert: someone else was there.