I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu.
July 14th (Bastille Day) 1924 Paris, France, somewhere near the Esplanade des Invalides
Paris, city of lights. On this lovely day one could believe that life would simply carry on. As the view pulls down, we find ourselves in a back alley of some kind. An alley cat going through a trash was suddenly startled when a young boy in a school uniform was tossed to the ground. As he picked himself up, he revealed his face. A young boy barely in his teens with blonde hair and piercing emerald green eyes. As he struggled to stand it became apparent that he couldn't walk, something that a group of bullies took full advantage of.
"Tu vas pleurer petit Caron?" (Aw, are you going to cry little Caron?) The head bully asked in a mocking tone as he kneeled down to the kids level.
"Pft, le seul moment où je pleurerai c'est à ta veillée. Et même alors, ils seront superficiels." (Pft, only time I will cry is at your wake. And even then, they will be shallow.) The kid spat in the face of his bully. This act of defiance led to him being suckered punch across the face. The bully's then proceed to beat and kick the poor lad. As they beat the poor lad, they failed to notice someone approaching from behind.
"Tu penses que tu es courageux? Tsk, toi et ton père vivez haut et fort parce qu'il a sauvé notre président minable. Si c'était à ma façon, je brûlerais cette plaie aux yeux que tu appelles une maison, espèce d'infirme." (You think your brave? Tsk, you and your father live all high and mighty because he saved our crummy president. If I had it my way I'd burn that eye sore you call a house you damn cripple.) The Bully mocked as he was about to throw another fist when suddenly he was bashed over the head with a wheel chair.
"Oy, get away from him!" A loud voice came from behind. Looking behind them, the bully's pupils shrink in horror. A short but muscular ginger in a bright orange dress, going up her right leg of a silk white stocking held up by a low hanging Garter belt. The other leg had nothing. Over her dress was an old blue bomber jacket with a broken heart on the back. However the most noticeable feature was the plaster tin half mask that was held up by false wire glasses. She puts down the wheel chair before cracking her knuckles. "Sauf si tu veux être blessé?" (Unless you want to be bruised?)
"Tsk, tu as demandé à la salope de ton père de se battre Caron?" (Tsk, you have your father's bitch fight your battles Caron?) The lead bully said mockingly as he rubs the back of his head. "Quant à toi, salope rousse. Je n'ai pas peur de frapper une fille. Et contrairement à la dernière fois, j'ai mes amis pour me soutenir. Ai-je raison les gars?" (As for you, redhead bitch. I'm not afraid to hit a girl. And unlike last time, I have my friends to support me. Am I right guys?)
There was a moment of silence following soon after. Turning around he found his group of friends had booked it, leaving behind only the head bully to deal with the girls wrath. Her anger can be felt staring into his back. The last thing the bully said before pounced upon by Nora was. "Oh… merde."
He was suddenly pounced upon by the girl. The view pulls to the side as the sound of the fourteen-year-old getting his ass kicked by a girl seven years older than him. As his screams for mercy went unheard, the cripple kid slowly pulled himself up before dusting himself. After a few moments the girl walked over to him with the bully dragging behind by his shirt collar. He was covered in a number of bruises and his leg broken in multiple places. The girl looked down at him before offering a free hand.
"Ça va, petite... fille?" The ginger asked with her hand still held out. After a few moments the boy responded in English.
"You mean garçon. Fille mean girl." The boy said before taking her hand. She helped him up before continuing. "Your French is still terrible Ms. Valkyrie."
"But at least it's getting better." She replies before dragging the bully over and dumping him ass first into a trash can and pushing him down with the trash can lid. "Also what did I say. Call me Nora. I hate this formality. Makes me feel like an ice queen I know."
The kid simply rolled his eyes. He had known Nora since his father returned from Egypt two years prior. She was an oddity, especially to his mother. Yet he found her company never dull. As he struggled to remain standing, Nora quickly retrieved his wheel chair and set it behind him before assisting him down into it. As she helped the polio stricken child he asked, "Ms. Valky…("NORA!")… Nora. As appreciative as I am for helping me… why are you here?"
"Oh that's simple Olivy. Your mom asked me to grab you from school… and admittedly I may have stopped for one… two… ten, Crêpes." Nora said with an embarrassed smile as she rubbed the back of her head.
"… You really do like morning bakery goods." The kid known as Oliver said before giving a chuckle. "Heh, out of everything you have told me. Your love for anything related to pancakes is the strangest above all."
"Even the story of me beating a mummy cat girl?" Nora asked as she puts her hand on her hips and leaned down to his level with a cocky smirk on her face.
"Oui, though wasn't it a 'zombie' the last time you told that story? Or an evil witch? Maybe even the pancake monster. That was admittedly the most amusing version." Oliver said with an equally cocky smirk on his face. After staring each other down Nora raised her finger and touched the tip of his nose before replying "Boop"
The two laughed before Nora walks behind him and begin to roll him back home. They moved along the Seine River. As they do Nora couldn't help but hmmming a tune. As she does her thoughts about arriving in the city of lights flooded her mind. Arriving in early January of 1923, she has spent the better part of a year and half learning French. Took her months to learn how to ask where the bathroom is. Still, least her presence made up for it. She and Oliver became fast friends, getting into all sorts of shenanigans. It got to the point the two were almost in a sister brother relationship. While Oliver's mother on the other hand… found her a bit overbearing. She was no stranger to acting out, but Nora takes it farther then she would. No table manners, a sweat tooth like nobody know, and always challenging anyone to an arm wresting contest. God knows how many tables she destroyed… let alone the challengers entire arm. The girls strength and energy has gotten the entire city gossiping. Her origins a mystery, her energy boundless, and her strength made her the talk of the town. A few theory's include her being of Scottish or Norwegian origin. Other's say she's American and simply has gone on one too many adventures… yet yearning for more. Then there was the theory she was from Russia one of the royalties who escaped and this childish façade is to keep the communist off her trail. Either way she was a curiosity, and nobody could get the answer from either her or her caretakers. As her thoughts about the latest rumor of her being the daughter of a leprechaun goes through her mind, Oliver broke her thoughts with his voice.
"Excuse me… Ms. Valky…("NORA")… Nora, can I ask something of you?" Oliver asked.
"You want another flash grenade to stuff in that bully's lunch box?" Nora guessed with a smirk as she reaches behind and grabbed a dust flashbang.
"Um no…" Oliver said much to Nora's disappointment. "Though… I may inquire one of those next semesters."
This re-sparked Nora's joy but also caught her curiosity. "Oh, so what do you want?"
"… well… your advice." Oliver said as he looked down with some embarrassment.
"Oh, what do you need advice on?" Nora asked with some interest.
"Um… well… actually I'm not sure you're the one to answer this." Oliver remarks with some embarrassment.
"Nonsense, I know more than most people. And those who do know, well… then their nerds." Nora said with a cheeky smile.
"Um… (Sigh) Do you promise not to tell anyone, or laugh?" Oliver asked.
"Cross my heart and hope to die, break my knees with my thighs." Nora swore. Oliver gave a skeptical look but then again with her exercise regiment, she could kill a man with them.
"Well… there's this girl in my class… and she's nice, beautiful, smart… Humor is somewhat to be desire but still, I… I think I have a crush on her." Oliver remarks, stuttering every now and again.
"Oh, so you've come to me for advice on romance?" Nora said with a smile growing on her face.
"Yeah… though I am doubtful you will help Ms. Valky… ("NORA!")… Nora. No offense but you aren't the romantic type." Oliver remarks much to Nora's shock.
"What, pft. That ain't true. I got Romance coming out of my butt." Nora said in defiance… while also resting Oliver's case.
"Um… as interesting as an analgia as that is. You are not the typical girl in an art school. Actually, I doubt anyone in school has your… crass and psychical capacity." Oliver points out.
"Well I'm still a girl and I know how most think… except for rich snobs. They can surprise you every now and again." Nora remarked.
"Suppose so… I digress, how would you recommend I ask her out?' Oliver asked.
Nora goes silent as she puts her hand on her chin. After thinking for a few moments she replies. "Well, just listen. Renny would always listen to me. Even when I go on and on and on, he'd always listen…"
Nora goes uncharacteristic silent as she thinks about her beloved Ren. The only thing that she misses in the whole world… other then his pancakes. After remaining quiet for a few minutes she quickly shook her thoughts from her head. "My point is, always listen."
"Alright Merci beaucoup, Mme Valky… ("NORA!")… Nora."
"Vous êtes vraiment les bienvenus." (You are very welcome.) Nora replies in French.
The two continued on down the road. They eventually made their way to the outer edge of the 15th arrondissement. The district was filled with wealthy living residents. As she and Oliver passed by the rows of tall mansions, they finally came to a lovely old home. Out front a blond woman stood outside with a concern and stern look on her face. Upon seeing the two she quickly got off the porch and walked over to them.
"Vous deux ! Avez-vous une idée de l'heure qu'il est?" (You two! Do you have any idea what time it is?) The woman scolded before noticing the bruises on the child. "Mère de miséricorde. Ce qui vous est arrive?!" (Mother of mercy. What happened to you?!)
"Ce n'était rien. Juste... a eu une course avec Jean-Paul." (It was nothing mother. Just... had a run in with Jean-paul.) Oliver said causing a vain in his mothers forehead to pop in rage.
"Le fils du boucher? Encore... Je jure que si ce soir n'était pas le gala je prendrais un de Ms. Valkyri... (NORA!)" (The son of the butcher? Again... I swear if tonight wasn't the gala I would take one of Ms. Valkyri... ("NORA!") The woman quickly turn to her with a cold glare that caused Nora to flinch in panic. For some reason Oliver's mother, Audra Caron reminder her a lot of her old teacher. Ms. Goodwitch. Or if she had an older sister… who was constantly pissed and somehow even more terrifying without powers. Regardless she was a terrifying woman. After a few moments she continues with a sigh. "(Sigh) Quoi qu'il en soit... vous deux allez à l'intérieur. Nous allons discuter de ce qui s'est passé après le gala et s'il vous plaît je ne peux pas insister assez là-dessus. Soyez sur votre meilleur comportement tous les deux." ((Sigh) Regardless... you two go on inside. We will discuss what happened after the gala and please I can not stress this enough. Be on your best behavior the two of you.)
She then took the spot behind her son's chair before rolling it away. As she does she comes to a quick stop before turning to Nora. She then remarked in a dead serious tone. "Madame Valkyrie. S'il vous plaît promettez-moi que vous vous comporterez bien." (Ms. Valkyrie. Please promise me that you will behave.)
"Je le jure sur mon bébé Marteau." (I swear upon my baby hammer.) Nora said as she crossed her heart. Audra continued to stare at her before giving a silent nod and walking off to get her child ready for the party. As she walks into the house the view is pulled to the side before transferring to a lavish smoke room.
Hours later, in the second floor ballroom
In this room, dozens of artist, military personnel, and government officiels had gather to celebrate Bastille day. All dressed in the most formal of tux's, colorful cocktail dress's and accessorized with jewels and feathers. As the crème de la crème of Paris socialized with one another, waiting for the fireworks; the view pulls through the sea of black tux's and colorful cocktail dresses till it stops upon Nora. Standing to the side in a pink evening dress that felt a little to tight around the arms. Loosely holding up her mask was a flapper head band with various pink feathers and jewels. Her hair was no longer the rugged look she liked, rather has been curled into a neat fashion. Only thing that kept her from loosing her mind was the never ending champain. She was not one for social events like the one she in. Only reason she agreed to the dance was because Ren and all her friends were here. But here in the house she has been calling home for the better part of a year, she was an absolute stranger. As she carefully drinks bubbly from her champagne coupe glass, a young man confidently approaches her.
"Je ne crois pas qu'il soit d'usage pour une fille d'être seule dans le coin avec personne pour danser, non?" (I don't believe it's customary for a girl to be by herself in the corner with no one to dance with, no?) The man said as he leaned by Nora.
"No, but I'm already taken by another." Nora remarks not bothering to say it in French.
"Ah, petite beauté. Where is your other half? If not accompanying you then surely he is no good." The man remarks in a hush tone as he got a little closer than what Nora would like. As he wrapped his arm around her waist, Nora could do nothing but role her eyes before dealing with the annoyance. She grabbed his arm before twisting it causing him to let out a painful grasp in pain as he let's out a painful squeal.
"M. Pervert. Quand une fille dit non. Elle dit non. Est-ce clair?" (Mr. Pervert. When a girl says no. She says no. Is that clear?) Nora asked aloud as she comes dangerously close to breaking his arm.
"Oui, oui. Je comprends bien. S'il vous plaît, lâchez mon bras, espèce de monstre sauvage!" (Yes, yes. I understand clearly. Please let go of my arm you savage monster!) The man begged in pain as his shirt begin to rip from the seams. After a few moments Nora lets go causing him to fall to the ground.
He then scrambles to his feet before fleeing away from the girl. She rolled her eyes before walking away, grabbing another glass of champaign before making her way to the balcony. The party continued as if nothing happen. Nora made her way to the balcony just as the fire works began. She got a fairly good view of the upcoming fireworks as she struggled to sip the champain. As she tries to drink without spilling, a familiar voice came from behind.
"Normalement, quand quelqu'un devient trop susceptible avec les dames, ils les giflent sur le visage. Ne pas essayer de casser un bras." (Normally, when someone gets too touchy with the ladies they slap them across the face. Not try to break an arm.) The voice called out from behind.
"Peut-être, mais aux dernières nouvelles, je ne suis pas une fille normale." (Maybe, but last I check I ain't a normal girl.) Nora responds before turning around. There in a well dress tux was Jobert. He gave a small smile before speaking.
"No, suppose not, English girl." Jobert said as he approaches her. "Least you do make for interesting small talk. Not many would try to snap the arm of an Agress but then again more would pay to see him squeal."
"Tsk, I'd should have broken his leg. That would be so much more fun." Nora states as she watches the first firework launched over the Eiffel tower.
"Oui perhaps but knowing my wife she will look upon this in disproval." Jobert states as he leaned beside her. He can see she was looking on at the fireworks with some regret going through her mind. "Though little Ollie was furious someone tried to made a move on you. For a moment I thought he was going to get up from his seat and finished the job."
"Yeah… I can see that happening." Nora remarks with a small smile as she pictures a chibi version of Oliver turning into a wheelchair-mec and tossing around the chibi annoyance like a rag doll. After a few moments this idea popped in her head before she turned to face him with her good eye.
"So… should I go and apologies to him?" Nora asked.
"… Nah, The Agress family is too prideful to complain that a little girl nearly broke the son's arm. I think this will go unnoticed." Jobert said with a smile as he raised his champain glass.
Nora raises hers before tapping them. The two went back to watching the fireworks. However what they did not notice was the stranger moving up behind the two. He was remarkable tall, he clearly was egyption decent and had a sinister aura about him. After a few moments he made his presence known. "Eh hem. Excusez-moi. Est-ce que je parle avec Jobert Caron? Ancien commandant du garison français et sauveur de la république?" (Eh hem. Excuse me. Am I speaking with Jobert Caron? Former commander of the French garrison and savior of the republic?)
"Oui, et qui êtes-vous?" (Yes, and who are you?) Jobert asked.
"Pardonnez mon intrusion, mais j'ai quelques questions à vous poser. Je m'appelle Raymond Barbeau, A P.I de l'agence de Détectives Blackwoods à Paris." (Forgive the intrusion but I have a few questions to ask you. My name is Raymond Barbeau, A P.I from the Blackwoods Detective Paris agency.) The man introduce himself before revealing his badge.
"Oh, puis-je vous demander pourquoi vous êtes ici? Je ne me souviens pas vous avoir invité à ma fête." (Oh, may I inquire why your here? I don't remember inviting you to my party.) Jobert said as he crossed his arms.
"Je m'excuse de l'intrusion grossière de votre fête du Bastille. Vous êtes un homme difficile à approcher. Je suis venu ici pour parler de Joan Abbe, Victor Breguet, Wilfried D'Amboise, Matthieu Boudon et Haydée Sharpe. Connaissez-vous ces gens? (I do apologies for the rude intrusion of your Bastille day party. You are a difficult man to approach. I came here to ask about Joan Abbe, Victor Breguet, Wilfried D'Amboise, Matthieu Boudon, and Haydée Sharpe. Do you know these people?) Barbeau asked as he pulled a few photos from his pocket.
"Oui. Ce sont tous des collègues de travail... puis-je vous demander pourquoi vous êtes venus me chercher à leur place?" (Yes, I do. These are all collègues from work... may I ask why have you come seeking me instead of them?) Jobert asked.
"Malheureusement, je suis obligé de vous demander parce qu'ils sont tous morts." (Sadly I am force to ask you because they are all dead.) Barbeau responds causing Jobert to go quiet.
"Oh mon Dieu." (Oh dear lord.) Jobert remarks as he leans back in horror.
"Ce matin, les fonctionnaires ont retiré ce qui restait d'eux des canaux. Ils ont été déchiquetés par ce qui ressemblait à une attaque d'animaux sauvages." (The officials pulled what was left of them from the canals this morning. They were torn to shreds by what looked like a wild animal attack.) Barbeau said as he pulled out a few photo's of the incident. Sure enough they were indeed torn to shreds. Limbs were missing, flesh was shredded, it was like a pack of Beowolfs descend upon them. Upon seeing that Nora remarked.
"Si cela arrive... pourquoi êtes-vous ici? Le mauvais nouveau ne serait-il pas livré par la poste?" (If this just happen... why are you here? Wouldn't the bad news be delivered by mail?) Nora asked.
Barbeau turned to Nora, noticing her precense for the first time before remarking. "Je suis désolé, mais c'est une conversation privée Mme..." (Um, I'm sorry but this is private conversation Ms...)
"Valkyrie, Nora Valkyrie. C'est la garde du corps de mon fils et son pupille non officiel. Tout ce que vous lui dites me le dit aussi." (Valkyrie, Nora Valkyrie. She's my son's body guard and unofficial ward. Anything you tell her tell me as well.) Jobert answers abruptly.
"Ah, la curiosité toujours aussi grande de la maison Caron. Quoi qu'il en soit, je doute que ce soit l'endroit pour une chose aussi fragile." (Ah, the ever so curiosity of the Caron home. Regardless, I doubt this is the place for such a fragile thing.) Barbeau said trying to get Nora to leave. Annoyed Nora was about to retort that she could beat him five days to Sunday when the boy from earlier came marching back with a few of his friends.
"Jobert. M. Jobert Caron. Votre monstre de fille a ruiné mon costume et s'est moqué de moi ! C'est pourquoi j'exige la satisfaction de cette harpie du ski humain..." (Jobert. Mr. Jobert Caron. Your monster of a girl has ruined my suit and made a mockery of me! There fore I demand satisfaction from this harpy in human ski...) Before he could even finish Nora grabbed him and tossed him over the edge. Causing him to scream as he falls into the shrubbery far below.
"Pas maintenant qu'on est au milieu de quelque chose!" (Not now we're in the middle of something!) Nora snapped at the group. Seeing what had happen they decided not to push their luck and quickly bolted for their friend… who was freaking out as he rolled around in the freshly fertilized ferns. "C'était quoi cette histoire de fragilité?" (Now, what was that about me being fragile?)
"…euh... c'est ça. Comme je le disais. Cinq personnes sont mortes ce matin, toutes des orge connectées à un autre sauf une chose. La semaine dernière, ils ont tous visité votre domaine. Un peu suspicieux ne direz-vous pas?" (… Um... right. As I was saying. Five people have died this morning, all of them barley connected to on another except for one thing. The past week they all have visited your estate. A little suspicious won't you say?) Barbeau passively accused.
"Monsieur, je ne sais pas ce que vous insinuez, mais je peux vous assurer que je n'ai rien à voir avec ces morts. J'en suis certain." (Sir, I don't know what your implying but I can guarantee that I had nothing to do with any of their deaths. Of that I am certain.) Jobert remarked as he crossed his arms in displeasure by the suggestion that Barbeau had made.
"Non, vous vous trompez complètement, monsieur Caron. Je crois qu'il est possible que quelqu'un vous cible. Connaissez-vous le Parti communiste français?" (No, you have it all wrong Mr. Caron. I believe that it's possible that someone is targeting you. Are you familiar with the Parti Communiste Français?) Barbeau asked gaining a solitary frown from Jobert.
"Oui, ces bâtards communistes qui sont allés sous terre pendant la nuit du sang. Aux dernières nouvelles, ils sont une coquille de leur ancien moi." (Yes, those communist bastards who went underground during the night of blood. Last I heard they are a shell of their former self's.) Jobert responds.
"Eh bien de ce que j'ai recueilli un groupe dissident a émergé. Dédié à venger la nuit du sang. Ils se sont appelés, Né de sang. Born from Blood." (Well from what I have gather a splinter group has emerged. Dedicated to avenging the night of blood. They called themselves, Né de sang. Born from Blood.) Barbeau said as he pulled out another picture of the occult. A strange symbol of a T with a serpent wrapped around it. At the top is a boney looking hand with an evil looking eye. Staring too long at it caused Nora to shift a bit with a nasty headache.
"C'est la raison pour laquelle l'Agence de Détectives de Blackwood a été appelée à enquêter. Nous avons une histoire d'enquêtes occultes." (This is why the Blackwood Detective Agency has been called upon to investigate. We have a history of investigating the occult.) Barbeau finished as he collect the photos.
"Très bien, monsieur Barbeau, aussi facile que cela puisse être. Pourquoi me donner cette information plutôt que de me prévenir?" (Alright Mr. Barbeau, as fascinating as this all is. Why bring this information to me rather than simply warn me?) Jobert asked.
"Eh bien, c'est surtout le fait. Nous sommes intéressés à savoir que vous avez la main avec l'occulte. Les rumeurs sur ce voyage égyptien ont atteint nos oreilles et maintenant voir la personne d'intérêt qui est revenu avec vous, je peux facilement dire que ces rumeurs n'ont pas encore gratté la vérité." (Well, mostly the fact is. We are interested in knowing your hand with the occult. Rumors about that Egyptian trip has reached our ears and now seeing the person of interest who came back with you, I can easily say that those rumors have yet to scratch the truth.) Barbeau remarks as he eyed Nora. She of course flinches a bit when stared at her. Something in his eye. It just gave her creeps. Jobert was also equally disturbed by Barbeau approach to Nora had enough of this united guest. Without thinking got between him and Nora.
With a serious look his face he silently demanded. "Je pense que vous avez abusé de votre accueil, monsieur Barbeau. S'il vous plaît, sortez ou je vais le faire moi-même." (I think you overstayed your welcome, Mr. Barbeau. Please see yourself out or I shall do it myself.)
"Très bien, monsieur Caron. Madame Valkyrie. Je vous souhaite à tous un bon Bastille. S'il vous plaît, sauf ma carte si vous souhaitez relayer quelque chose d'intrépide ou faire appel à nos services." (Very well Mr. Caron. Madam Valkyrie. I wish you all a pleasant Bastille Day. Please, except my card should you like to relay anything of interest or call upon our services.) Barbeau said as he flicked his hand and a business card flicked into his hand. He then handed it off to Jobert before walking away.
The two remain quiet for a few moments before looking down at the card presented. It was a normal business card with a black tree style taking up most of the card. At the center was an eye and the information warped around the eye. As they stared on they had failed to realize that one of Joberts gloves was missing from his belt. By the time they did it was far too late, Barbeau had disappeared. Nobody had any idea where he went or even knowing when he arrived. The party continued on as if nothing had happened. Around Midnight the party had come to an end. Guest left tired and slightly tipsy. Nora decided to retire for the night and walked up to her room in the attic.
While it may seem a bit crude, she had fashioned it into a lovely little home for herself. A few postcards of her around Paris, some film posters of a funny America comedians and a hand drawn photo that Oliver drew. She also hung up some silk Vietnamese lamps and ribbons to add color to her attic home. Course not everything was entirely fashionable. In the corner was a disorganize stack of books on the planets, astronomy, and when those books failed to help her find a way home, she added the extension of books on the occults. She wasn't a bookworm like Weiss, but with no internet she was forced to read. And it took forever and a lot of effort not to fall asleep. Her latest read she struggled with was 'The Witch-Cult In Western Europe' by Margaret Alice Murray. Though it didn't do much except detail different rituals. None of them indicate on returning but some passages on groups of magical people who had abilities similar to Semblance.
In the pale moonlight of her open window Nora got ready for bed. She removed the dress and tossed it aside haphazardly on the ground. All she had on was just a loose French-Pink Lingerie and her thunder bolt boxers. She was about to move to the side when something caught her eye. The moon. She had seen it a hundred times and yet each time it intrigued her. How can one not when the growing up you known the moon to be cracked. She grabbed a small box she had gotten from her birthday before opening up the window. The warm night wind hits her face. Feeling it upon her face she savior this feeling before opening the box. Music then begins to play as she admired what was inside.
Play La vie en rose by Édith Piaf
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouches
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Within the box was a sketch of Ren. Oliver had done a wonderful job sketching it from her scroll. She couldn't hep but press her fingers against it As she does a single tear falls from her face.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
She slowly wiped it away before setting the box aside on the end of the bay. Once positioned she reaches up and removes her tin mask before setting it aside next to the music box. Once set she turned her attention back to the moon.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
The view was serial to her like something out of a storybook. She has fallen in love with the city. It was nicknamed the city of lights in the 1860's for its gaslights. Though despite the gaslights long since replace, it was still a city of lights.
Et dès que je l'aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon cœur qui bat
Des nuits d'amour à plus finir
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place
Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent
Heureux, heureux à en mourir
Nora looked on with a half faded smile. Seeing this beautiful view of Paris could do nothing but imagine her beloved Renny. She and him, dancing in the moonlight on top of the Eifel tower. A city of romance, gone to waste.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
As the view pulls back. A few tears fall from Nora's eye as she wished to share a moment with Renny, at least one last time. The view slowly goes black as the thoughts of Ren and Nora moved with the wind and music out the window into the night sky.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
Et dès que je t'aperçois
Alors je sens dans moi
Mon cœur qui bat
La la, la la, la la
La la, la la, ah la
La la la la
The next day in the 8th arrondissement
The view changes to the city streets bellow. Crowed of people touring a farmers' market near the Seine river just north of the Les Invalides. As they bought a multitude of freshly grown products, old family heirlooms, hand crafted furniture, and old books found in the attics, a few familiar faces walked on by. Nora now dressed in here summer flapper dress with her Coche mask on, pushes Oliver along. The two were escorted by the family Butler, Ceil Sebastian. It was honestly a lovely day. Nora couldn't help but imagine herself back in beacon. In the summer with her team. Training for the Vitality festival. By the gods she wished to go back to those days. However she knew that will never happen so she was enjoyed the peace of the moment.
They had collected a basket of tomato's when Oliver noticed a sketch artist practicing his craft. Eager to learn more about art he begged Sebastian and Nora to partake. Sebastian would rather get on his way but Nora insisted. Could be in good fun. They posed for thirty or so minutes, with Nora twisting her head so she didn't show her disfigured face. As she held her head in position, she noticed a young Moroccan boy racing by, with the police chasing after.
"Que quelqu'un arrête ce voleur!" (Someone stop that no good thief!) The Police officer shouted as he blows his whistle.
"Hé, je vais vous faire savoir que je suis un bon voleur! Je voulais juste faire mon exercice du matin!" (Hey I'll let you know I'm a good thief! Just wanted to get my morning exercise in!) The Moroccan boy shouted back as he cut's through the farmers market. He leapt over stands side stepped leaping police officers and caused one to trip on a banana peel. This all feels a bit familiar to Nora watching this. But she couldn't help but feel like she had seen this from somewhere.
He races by the group causing the up heave of the canvas and pencils. As he passes time slowed down as the boy turned to Nora and with a cocky grin he winked at her before time speeds up and he raced down the street with the police still unable to catch him. Nora minorly perplex shook her head loose of what she saw and quickly looked around.
"Is everyone ok?" Nora asked as she quickly helped up the artist.
"I'm fine." Oliver replies.
"I am… oh dear lord." Sebastian stopped as he patted himself. "I think that young rapscallion stole my wallet."
"It's alright Sebby. I'll go get it!" Nora shouted before chasing after the Moroccan boy. She quickly leapt from the side of the bridge, before anyone could even react she had pulled her Magnhild from out of a picnic basket and launched herself above from a bright pink explosion.
The Morricone Boy managed to hide away from the police down an alleyway. Now squatting behind a dumpster we get a good look at him. He was a surprisingly handsome young lad, probably in his early twenties. Wearing a white collard shirt tucked into a pair of light blue trousers. His sleaves were rolled up with a grey wool vest opened up and a decaying flat cap over his head. As he was going over his loot he had snagged he found one thing he snagged to be interesting. A strange white device that when opened would reveal a glass that had images on it.
"Quoi que ce soit. ça doit être cher." (Huh, what ever it is. Has to be expensive.) The Morricone boy remarks as he inspects it. As he does however a voice from behind nearly causes him to drop it.
"Non, pas cher, mais il a des valeurs plus sentimentales." (No, there quite cheap, but it has more sentimental values.) Nora said kneeling behind him. As he stumbles back Nora walks forward in with a pep in her step. "Même si j'aimerais le récupérer... ainsi que le portefeuille de mon ami." (Regardless I would like it back... as well as my friend's wallet.)
Play Johann Strauss II – "Wiener Blut" for comedic reasons.
The young man was caught off guard by Nora's sudden appearance but after a few moments he gave a cheeky grin before stating. "Je m'excuse, petite dame. Mais nous avons tous mangé. Cependant, si cela peut vous rassurer, je ne l'ai pas fait par malveillance." (I do apologies little lady. But we all got to eat. Still if it makes you feel any better I did it not out of malice.)
"Oh je sais. Mais ne vous en souciez pas. S'il vous plaît, rendez ce que vous avez volé avant que je vous casse les jambes." (Oh I know. But don't care. Please return what you stole before I break your legs.) Nora said in a sweat but sinister tone.
"Heh, Aussi mignon que ça soit de te voir essayer petite fille. je doute que tu veuilles te rapprocher." (Heh, As cute as it is to see you try little girl. I doubt you want to get to close.) The Moroccan boy remarks before pulling out a switch blade. "Spéailly voir qu'un côté de ce joli visage a déjà souffert. Peut-être une autre fois vous pouvez essayer." (Specially seeing that one side of that pretty face has suffered already. Perhaps another time you can try.)
Nora looked down at the switch blade. It was cute how he held it, still the way he position showed he had experience. Still it was just a knife. Nora looked up and with a smirk twisted her head and remarks. "C'est très bien. J'ai été battu par le pire. Je vais quand même vous casser les jambes." (Oh that's fine. I have taken beatings from worst. Still going to break your legs.)
"Oh, et avec quelle beauté mes cheveux roux?" (Oh, and with what my ginger hair beauty?) The Moroccan asked. In response Nora pulled out her Magnhild, twirling it around a bit before letting the hammers head crash down onto the cobblestone street. Cracking it under the weight of it.
"Hmmm, avec ça. je ne sais pas, tu penses que ça suffira?" (Hmmm, with this. I don't know, you think this will suffice?) Nora asked sarcastically without losing that childish smile.
The Moroccan gave a chuckle to which Nora also did. They did it for a few moments before the thief tossed her scroll and booked it in panic. Nora caught the scroll before chasing after him. Nora swings her hammer down as the boy dives out. She proceeded to chase the thief who managed to evade being swatted. The thief however had dropped his cocky tone and was out right panicking. He could easily out run the Paris police but her. This small girl… if she was in charge of keeping the peace, crime would drop… and bodies would pile up.
As Nora swinged her hammer and the thief evaded these strikes, the police took notice along with a crowed of spectators. Using the crowed to his advantage, the Thief dived through the crowd, escaping from Nora. However not two steps down the street, the hammer nearly slammed down on him. She had leapt over the entire crowed and nearly crushed him. Sweating bullets, he dived out of the way of a powerful kick. Realizing that she wasn't going to stop, he quickly changes tactics. And played dirty. He quickly got in close trying to grab her hammer. However he quickly found the absurd weight behind it and was nearly pushed to the ground, only for him to go under her legs. He then cut the back of her dress, exposing her right braw. He'd thought she drop in embarrassment but she continued on just fine. Realizing that she won't stop, he once more attempt to flee.
He'd notice some construction and quickly moved to it. Avoiding the mad lass and police constables he made his way to the construction zone before using it's various tools to escape this crazed ginger. Looking around he noticed a bag of sand attached to a rope acting as a counterweight for a piano. He quickly grabbed a fistful of saw dust and flinged it into her eye before cutting the line. The piano fell and the rope slides up. With him holding on tight. The lift flinged him up onto the rigging before he climbed up to the roof top. He turned around before looking down at Nora.
"Eh bien, c'était amusant petite dame. Mais je dois vous souhaiter fairwell. Était amusant pendant qu'il a duré." (Well, this was fun Little lady. But I must wish you farewell. Was fun while it lasted.) The Moroccan thief said with a bow. He turned around to make his quick escape when the girl leapt over him before twisting around. The thief was honestly gob smack. This girl was persistent. He watches as that hammer of hers transform into a strange barreled gun with a custom beanbag round made for it loaded. He then replied with a mixture of terrified and impressed tone, "Eh bien... ce n'est pas juste du tout." (Well... That's not fair at all.)
"Désolé, mais hey. au moins il n'y a pas de balles mortelles." (Sorry, but hey. Least there not lethal rounds.) Nora replies with some optimism as she fired off a round.
The thief ducks out of the way and the beanbag round hits an officer in the face, sending him to the ground. Acting quick the Moroccan man quickly bolts to Nora. Evading all but the last shot, that one hit's his foot as he jumps up into the air, tackling Nora over the side. The two fall down a grassy slope tumbling with the fall close to the Seine edge. After a few moments The Moroccan boy slowly pulls himself off Nora only to realize where he landed. His hands pressed against her breast as she too notice. Her look turned to annoyance as he slowly removed his hands.
"Pardon, petite dame... je ne voulais pas." (Apologies Little lady... didn't mean to.) The Moroccan boy apologies.
"Excepté l'appologie." (Apology excepted.) Nora remarks before wrapping her legs around his waist with superhuman strength. She then does a handstand tosses him into a nearby sewer great with the flick of her waist. As she dusts herself off she quickly found her precious hammer before commenting as she approach the Moroccan thief. "Je vais quand même te casser les jambes!" (I'm still going to break your legs!)
The thief lets out a small grown as he pulls himself out of the sewage water. As he does he noticed Nora was slowly moving towards him and he quickly crawled back. He reaches behind for anything to use to defend against this beast of a woman. As he reaches around he suddenly feels something large behind him and he quickly grabbed it. Waving it around like a stick.
"Reculez, j'ai un... bras!?" (Stay back, I have an... arm?!) The thief said realizing what he had grabbed was a severed arm. His eyes goes wide before dropping it. Nora herself was also shocked by this and stopped approaching the thief. The two looked deeper into the sewer grate only to find a body.
Horrifically mutilated by something large, the body was hard to recognize. Missing half it's face, limbs, and lower body. His eyes were plucked from its body and a rat had burrowed into the side of it's head. As disturbing as this sight was, it only got even more disturbing when Nora recognize the body. It was Detective Barbeau. Mutilated by something horrible.
Hello everybody, Wombag1786 here.
So, how about that. Ren had finally awaken and now on a quest to… *Before Wombag could finish he realized something was wrong.
… Wait a second. This ain't right. The next arc is supposed to be Fara Ö, not Le Monstre Dans Le Canal? Who changed the sci…
*Before Wombag could finish, a trap door opened up under him. Dropping the gasmask host down into the under stage. Following this were the stereotype cartoon falling noises. Bang's, bonks, frying pan whacks, Wilhelm scream, and a cat meowing. After a few seconds another person walked out on stage.
A familiar yet feminine looking crimson individual walks in wearing a smug look on his face. She then turns to the audience before remarking, "Ah, you had that one coming my old friend. Anyways, hello everyone, it is Crimson Weresloth. I've been gone for some time, hopefully I'll be back but for now I'm taking over Wombag's questions and comments."
From the esteem, Black cross0: Oh most certainly. But you have yet to see the worst thing they have done.
Oh yes, surprise nobody noticed the gills on her comic portrait. Granted Fanfic is not the place one should go to look at comic photos.
Oh darling don't we all. But I suppose little Schnee has seen more than most.
Love, she isn't just an heiress; but the sole survivor of Atlas kingdom… least one with any political ties. What a frightful thing, knowing you're the last of your people.
Ah city of lights, of romance, of terror. Yes Ms. Valkorie should fit right on in. Granted she'd more likely force herself into the tight structures of the higher ups. Just like in the chapter.
She has yet to come up with an excuse. Mostly because anyone who asked find themselves out a window head first.
Thanks for writing graciously for commenting, Black cross0.
From my gracious own self… Crimson Weresloth: Hmm, that was my first thought, before Nora tossed the annoying boy out the window.
Thanks for writing, to myself.
From Sir Carre the grand: 1. Your most certainly welcome.
2. Most likely Arkham is just a bus ride away. Families like that. Hmm, maybe the entity designated as SCP-3288. But unlikely so.
3. Hmm he does have a talent for the theatrics. And city of lights, though it looks like those lights may be a saving grace.
4. Oh my… so that's where he get's his pile of severed thumbs. Um, thank you kindly.
Thank you kindly for writing Sir Carre.
Thanks for writing .
"Well, it seems that is all. I'd trust you to read the next chapter but I'm afraid he may not appear for the next chapter." The woman said before approaching the hole. She then pulls out a grenade before dropping it. "The don gives his regards Monsieur Wombag."
The grenade goes off before the scene cuts to a technical difficulties scene.