Greetings, my fabulous cohorts! Welcome to my brand new will-ever-be-increasing collection of short stories, featuring some of our favorite characters and duos. Now some of you might be familiar with my work..and will find this particular work of mine to be different from all the others, which is OK.

Just be warned that my rate of updating may vary significantly...it depends on whether my brain and heart will cooperate, because it's really hard for me to come up with original plots and I'm also kind of lazy. I have other ideas of fun, you know. So let us begin!

Paris

Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, wakes up to find that her husband have already had a head start. The vague impression of a body is still visible upon the surface of the mattress. Nothing unusual. Cautiously and reluctantly, she folds a heavy silken blanket off her body. Bringing up her fist towards her mouth, she stifles a light yawn.

The slender woman with dark auburn hair in a short boyish hairstyle, which had been that way ever since 1429, is wearing shiny and reflective purple silk pajamas. Pivoting her body off the side of the bed, she slips her tiny feet into fuzzy bunny slippers. On the wooden chair outside of the bathroom door, are a folded pair of fresh clothing. A tie-dye t-shirt and skinny blue jeans.

On the door is a sticky note. It said: Beautiful morning, darling! But not as close to being beautiful as you. Love, S.G. your loving husband.

An affectionate smile curled on Joan's lips as she close the bathroom door behind her. After taking a quick shower, Joan changed into the tie-dyed shirt and skinny blue jeans. Flinging open her closet doors, she picks up a pair of black boots with a golden floral design etched on to them. "Ah, they still fits!" she said delightedly, rubbing the tip of the boot with her thumb.

Then quickly brushing her teeth and combing her hair, she grabbed the keys to her car from the drawer of her nightstand and exits the room.


Going down the stairs, she caught sight of her husband, the flamboyant Saint-Germain. He is standing in front of an elaborately tall mirror, an antique that he had bought somewhere in the late 1800s. He is busy trying on new outfits for his concert tonight. There are hats, pants, jackets, and shirts everywhere.

"The more I think about it", mused Joan silently to herself, "it's true that opposites really do attract." She coughs to get his attention.

The startled young man with piercing blue eyes spins around abruptly. An elegant smile revealing misshapen teeth, formed on his lips at the sight of his wife. "Ah! Joan, you're just in time to help me decide about my wardrobe." He then becomes more serious. "Which one? The black suit with white stripes? Or...the white suit with black stripes?"

"Oh, how I wish I can help you, but...", said Joan in a false tone of sadness. She consciously twist the doorknob and begins walking out the door. "I'm afraid I have some errands to do, sigh."

Francis rested his hands on his waist with an offended look on his round face. "Well you don't have to lie to me, you know." Another smile broke upon his face, for he never could stay mad at her for long. The record for that is only two hours. How impressive!

Joan paused in the doorway with her left foot still on its toes. She looks back over her shoulder and scan him critically with huge blue eyes. "Well...the black suit. Definitely the black suit! White makes you look fat", she added teasingly before closing the door behind her.

The Master of Fire sighs dreamily. Even when she teases him, it's so cute. "Boy, am I famished!"

Saint-Germain walks into the house's now newly rebuilt kitchen. The floor consists of smooth marble tiles and the plaster of the wall have been covered up with wallpaper. They also got a new sink and installed a refrigerator. Looking at now, you can hardly tell that a gigantic ancient prehistoric monster have completely demolished it.

"Oh, how it seems like only yesterday that Nidhogg was rampaging through all of Paris", said the immortal to himself, taking a sip of some rich French Roast coffee. Then his advanced hearing caused his ears to perk up, when there upon the stillness rose an abrupt thud.

Leaving the glass of coffee on the kitchen table, Saint-Germain rushed for the door. He paused suddenly right before opening it, his hand firmly holding on to the doorknob. Quickly snapping his fingers together to activate his aura, small orbs of multi-colored flames popped into existence on every finger. Taking a deep breath, he prepares to open the door...and to blast whatever is on the other side with fire.

"One...two...three!" He flings the door open. "AHA! Huh?"

What he sees is not at all what he's been expecting. It turns out that the intruder is a...dog. Standing in the middle of the living room is a dog, a kind of mix between terrier and greyhound. It eyed him with curiously, it's stout head tilted slightly to the side. Saint-Germain's aura cooled and he noticed that the front door is open.

Taking hold of a nearby broom, he approach the animal. Joan have always loved animals, but Francis has resolved to always distance himself from them. "Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here!", scolded the immortal. "Shoo!"

Knowing when he's not wanted, the strange hound bit on to a leather boot and hurriedly speeds away out of the house. Saint-Germain immediately dropped the broom and runs out after it. "Hey! Come back here with my shoe!" He angrily shouted while chasing the mutt down the street.

The bubbly hound seems to ignore the immortal's cries to stop, and accelerates its pace. "Oh, no you didn't! Give me back my shoe now!"

The dog turns a corner, with Saint-Germain close on its heels. He would have caught it too, if it wasn't for a crowd of fans.

"Hey, Germain! Looking good! Can I get a autograph?"

"Germain I love you!"

"Do you have any of your albums on you right now?"

"Hey, can't wait for the concert tonight! Bet it's going to be awesome!"

Saint-Germain watched helplessly as the dog disappears farther down the street with his boot. Apologizing, he pushes his way through the eager fans. "Sorry! Can't talk right now! A dog just stole my shoe!"

Finally breaking free, he sprints frantically down the street, hoping that the dog haven't went too far. Somewhere along the way, he spots the mutt out of the corner of his eye. It's heading for a butcher shop! "Not so fast!" He yelled after it.

He follows it into the shop, and then out again. He follows it into the bakery, just to emerge from it covered in baking flour and frosting. He follows it into the perfume shop, and comes out of it heaving and panting, his eyes red lined and teary with the absolutely overwhelming odors spayed on him. He pursued that dog all over Paris in a mad hunt. Tourists with flashing cameras would all simultaneously turn to take pictures of the sweaty man chasing a dog with a shoe in its slobbering jaws. What a way to make a first impression of Paris!

They went up and down the Eiffel Tower, and all over the place before Saint-Germain finally managed to corner it in a side alley. The dog have unwittingly ran into it and abruptly stopped just a mere inches from the stone wall barring its way. Saint-Germain, upon catching up with it, stopped and placed his hands on his knees. He desperately needs to catch his breath.

"Give...me...back...my shoe!", he heaved out in between rigid breathing. The expression on his once cheerful face have become dark and menacing with the crazy almost visible in his eyes. He slowly and cautiously took steps to approach the clearly frightened dog.

"Nice, good doggy. Give me back my shoe so that I can perform at my concert tonight. I don't want to to hurt you."

Just as he came close enough and is about to pounce, the dog cleverly darted through under his legs towards freedom! The dog knocked the immortal off balance and he fell flat on his back. "Ugh! Why that little scoundrel! Me, the Comte de Saint-Germain, outsmarted by a dog!"

Raising up his upper body using his arms, he slowly worked his way up the ground. "Can this day possibly get any worse?" He fastidiously dusts the dirt off his designer jeans.

Saint-Germain ran out of the alley, just in time to see the dog standing over the waters of the Seine River. "You...wouldn't...dare!", he gasped.

The dog made a little bark, seemingly telling the count to try him. Then he just dropped it in there anyways and skedaddled yipping all the way.

"NOOOOOO!" Saint-Germain, in one final desperate attempt, dives head first into the waters of the Seine. Time stand still, before minutes later...

"Pfft thhaggg pf-ff!" He reemerges! Raising his recovered shoe high in the air, he exclaimed triumphantly, "Yes! Yes! Take that you mangy mutt!"

With a proud shake of his thick mane, the flips the hair off his face and eyes. Right in front of him, stands Joan with her arms crossed.

"Um...honey...why are you in the river? Perhaps I don't want to know anyways?"

Saint-Germain laughs nervously and replies, "Believe it or not, I was chasing a dog that had stolen my shoe." Joan's eyes widen in awe. "And it kind of dropped my shoe in here, and I kind of jumped in."

Joan only stared at him with a stricken expression on her petite face. "Now can you help me out of here now? The current is extremely strong today..."

Joan grinned sympathetically as she held out her hand to him. He gladly takes it and...SPLASH!

"Francis! Why in the world did you do that for!"screamed Joan, who is now soaking wet with her short dark hair hanging in thick clumps. She is so angry at Saint-Germain for unceremoniously pulling her into the water with him. She smacks him on the chest, causing him to grunt

The immortal count just laughs heartily as he gently wraps his arms around his wet and shivering wife. "Oh, just for fun. Even being wet in the Seine with you is more magical than without.

"Well I'm not feeling very magical", she murmured ruefully

The End

So how was it? Not so bad right? Right? Eh, I'll work on it. So please review!